Aglarond

His folk are not tall and graceful, brimming with music or pretty words. Aulë’s children make their poetry of metal and stone.

Singers and bards will ponder for hours, searching out that perfect phrase. He, with cautious skill, will consider the placement of a single tap – a small chip of rock and no more, in a whole anxious day, his artistry no less moving than theirs.

Love flowing from his hands, he tends these glades of flowering stone. His hammer is his pen: he writes his poem in living rock, and in his own mind, he sings the name: Galadriel.

For the "Poetry" challenge at LiveJournal community tolkien_weekly.