When our dwarven lord marched with Maedhros to the lands of the bitter North
We were there when Angband emptied and the Dark Lord’s hordes poured forth.
It had taken months to prepare our host. We had set by a mighty store.
Belegost’s anvils rang out by day and night to construct all the gear of war:
Smithing falchions bright, linking coats of mail, fashioning spears then in bundles bound,
Grinding edges sharp on each double-axe – for which dwarves are so well renowned.
When we marched to war on that fatal day, we all made a splendid sight
With Lord Azaghâl leading the dwarf-host. We marched out in our armoured might:
Shields strongly bossed, metal helmets donned, coats of mail with their linking fine
And the war-songs sung by a thousand tongues as north wound our marching line.
Then we stood on the edge of the Gasping Plain, gazing north out towards Angband
Watching dust raised by feet of our countless foes as they marched ‘gainst us cross the sand.
Then the elves to the west flank broke and charged! Had the west Eldar gone mad?
Their defensive dikes lay abandoned now. Thus our fortunes turned good to bad.
Maedhros led us out – so we’d keep the line – and our foremost foes to slay.
We began to sense we could do little to retrieve affairs that day.
But we fought as we could – scything orcs like wheat! Then the Easterlings false we find:
Maedhros’ false allies had betrayed us all! They cut the elves down behind.
The east elves were trapped in a vice of steel: ‘tween the orcs and the Easterlings.
Many were hewn down just there where they stood. Such betrayals were a sign of things
Yet to come. Azaghâl saw what had transpired: we were ordered to face about.
The west elves were penned, butchered just like sheep. Then we dwarves gave a mighty shout!
On the Easterlings we then turned the axe – for the elves it did little good.
We revenged their deaths just as best we might – killing all those scum we could.
Though we came too late for most Maedhros’ elves – we did raise up a mighty mound
Of dead Easterlings. But those poor, brave elves covered all of the plain around.
Then we dwarves held firm as dark legions swept on towards us cross plains of dust.
Fast our shield-wall held – exacting high tolls from all foes come within spear-thrust!
We heaped up their dead: vile, black-skinned orcs, who outnumbered us three to one.
But we held our own – as their piles of dead testified, lying mute and dumb!
Later came the trolls with their sharpened fangs, and their crimson, merciless eyes.
First we lopped their legs into splintered bone – we soon cut them down to size!
When the wolf-packs leapt, ravening to kill, leaping over our shield-wall –
Their fangs and their claws raked our dwarven mail – as we gut them, and dead they fall.
So we stood like rocks against breaking seas – all around swarms of foes did roll.
And we threw them back, cutting many down. Every charge they paid a heavy toll.
Day by day we stood on that field of blood. When the sun sunk into night
There still seemed no end to those orc-legions marching south to engage us in fight.
We stood firm as rock – breaking every charge! There was nothing we dwarves can’t take.
With our axes sharp, and our spirits were high. But beware you don’t make mistake:
Never dream to outsmart all the Dark Lord’s wiles! When we thought our foes overcome –
We were wrong! For the ground trembled underfoot. Belched out smoke then obscured the sun
As the dragons came! Vile, evil wyrms, bred in darkness, in deep caverns fed
On the flesh of fresh corpses of Angband slaves. Dreadful terror all about them spread.
Other foes drew back, left the wyrms clear path as the dragons crawled cross the plain.
And I first knew fear as we waited them. Great Aulë! Then the dragons came!
Tolkien Tribute 