The Hammersmith

Weaponry forged of flame and steel
Long was the toil in the depths of Belegost
The labour, the blood, the sweat of the Naugrim

A waxing carcass tide, devastating stench

Fueled by ardent revenge, I wield thee
No finer craftwork can be found
Save for the tree-lit gems, or nauglamir

I advance upon the grey mountains
A thirst for the black blood of orcs
Drakes of the north, nightmare spawn of Angband
All shall crumble, both sinew and bone

A mighty swing to fell man or beast
At the base of the skull, a shattering echo
The goblin's flame extinguished

Atop fragments of jaw bone, I stride victorious.