Note: I've been reading Beowulf lately in my Medieval English lit class, and felt inspired to try something in the Anglo-Saxon (Old English) poetic style. So this is a small fragment of the Rohirric 'Lay of Frodo of the Nine Fingers,' in translation, of course. ;) There are supposed to be caesurae (or poetic line breaks) in the middle of each line, but the formatting won't cooperate...

Mount Doom

Fire-bright, gasping, the dark ring-hold shakes,
trembles in moorings, shadow dark hall,
abode of flames. Fiends fall shrieking,
ancient night-flyers, hateful to men,
dread death-spirits, pierced by fire.
Weary they fall, the wanderers,
hard-driven, unyielding after mighty deeds,
great glory won, the praise of kings,
honor from spear-lords. Alone, broken they lie,
victory-defeated, the little hill-folk;
nine-fingered Frodo, the many-sorrowed,
fair in loss, in deadly ring-wound,
most noble lord, elven-bright way-farer,
and Samwise Stout-heart, best of companions—
no man may say that when dark the road
he acted faithlessly, broke oath with his sworn lord—
truest of thanes, most worthy of honor,
of many rich gifts. Few brave warriors,
great sword-thanes, would have dared that deed,
feuding with Sauron, dark shadow-dweller,
strong in sorceries, dread servant of Morgoth—
a halfling felled him, a hole-dweller brought him low,
humblest of All-father’s creatures. Now fallen they lie,
the fearless halflings, doom-shadowed,
ringed with flame, awaiting death, soul-release,
brave in the face of fate, cruel fire.
All-father saw, the One gave heed,
abandoned not the ring-bearers, his dear children,
to bitter fate in fire, flaming earth-wrack.
Through the lofty airs, bright-winged, war-brave,
the eagles came, mighty high-flyers, fierce in air,
bearing with them Gandalf, strong in wisdom,
wise in war-strength; he slew the fire-terror,
giant shadow-stalker, ancient enemy of Durin’s race.
Now he came hastening, riding on the wind, eager,
seeking the halflings, fire-weary, shadow-cloaked,
strong in weakness. Down swept Gwaihir,
wind-swift, silent in air, mighty sky-rider,
and down came Landroval, in flight no less swift,
skilled lord of upper airs. They lifted the halflings,
cradled in claws, borne out of the fire,
bitter ash-heap, and raised in air cold and clear,
weary and wounded, borne away in honor,
princes of the west, to well-earned rest.