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Then Gothmog hewed him with his black axe, and a white flame sprang up from the helm of Fingon as it was cloven. Thus fell the High King of the Noldor.

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Her bright hair, released from it's bonds, gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders. Her eyes, grey as the sea were hard and fell, and yet tears were on her cheek, and a sword was in her hand.

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The orcs made no boast of that duel at the gate; neither do the Elves sing of it, for their sorrow is too deep.

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Gimli: Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.
Elrond: Maybe, but let him not vow to walk in the dark who has not seen the nightfall.
Gimli: Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart.
Elrong: Or break it.

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But for thy prowess and they pride, still I should have love and life, and Nargothrond should yet stand a while.

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for his father was dearer to him than the Light of Valinor or the peerless works of his hands; and who among sons, of Elves or of Men, have held their fathers of greater worth?

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I would not take the thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so using the power of the Dark Lord for her good, and my glory.

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But she was not there, nor was it ever known whither the cold waters of Teiglin had taken her.

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Not a mistress of many slaves, not even a kind mistress of willing slaves.

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'Thou shalt lead and I will follow. May no new grief divide us.' 'I hear thee,' siad Fëanor. 'So be it.' But they did not know the meaning that their words would bear.

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For the rocks rang with the shrill music of Fingolfin's horn, and his voice came down keen and clear into the depths of Angband, and Fingolfin named Morgoth, Craven, and Lord of Slaves.

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I do not love the bright sword for it's sharpness, nor the arrow for it's swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.

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But grass came there and grew again there, long and green upon that hill, alone in all the desert that Morgoth made;

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He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.

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And they beat him into the dust with their maces, and his banner, blue and silver, they trod into the mire of his blood.

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the Grey-elves still wandered far and wide without settled abode, and they sang as they went.

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Valour needs first strength and then a weapon. Let the Ring be your weapon, if it has such power as you say. Take it and go forth to victory.

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and ere long she would leave the world for ever, and her beauty become only a memory in song.

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Go now, lord, while time is! For in you lives the last hope of the Eldar , and while Gondolin stands Morgoth shall still know fear in his heart.

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I remember well the splendour of their lances. It recalled to me the glory of the Elder Days, and the hosts of Beleriand, so many great princes and captains were assembled. And yet not so many nor so fair, as when Thangorodrim was broken, and the elves deemed that evil was ended forever and it was not so.

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Yet with his last and desperate breath Fingolfin hewed the foot with Ringil, and the blood gushed forth, black and smoking, and filled the pits of Grond.

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But my memory reaches back even to the Elder Days. Earendil was my sire, who was born in Gondolin before it's fall; and my mother was Elwing, daughter of Dior, son of Lúthien of Doriath. I have seen three ages in the West of the world, and many defeats, and many fruitless victories.

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Among the tales of sorrow and of ruin that come down to us from the darkness of those days there are yet some in which amid weeping there is joy, and under the shadow of death, light that endures.