This is a poem that I wrote recently and I decided I would share it with you on my blog.     THE SPIRIT OF FIRE      Dedicated To Alatariel   Of Feanor In the golden days of Tirion, The Elven-city of the sea In the golden days of the Blessed Light The Trees still shone and the stars were white And all of the world was fair and free.   There was born of Miriel Upon the hill of Valinor Curufinwe, the Spirit of Fire And he was the son of her heart’s desire And she called him Feanor.   But the strength and life of Miriel Passed to her beloved son Her spirit was silently borne away And great was the sorrow of Curufinwe And he wept alone in Tirion.   Then Feanor sought solitude And he labored and learned alone, He gained the knowledge of many things And the understanding that wisdom brings And he was the heir of the Elven-throne     Of Nerdanel The years passed on in Valinor And Feanor wandered in the evening On the shores of the sea his eyes beheld The beautiful image of Nerdanel And a song of Valinor was she singing.   And he watched her dance in the pale star-light, Her tresses swirled in the rushing winds And she was fair beyond all words But on that night doom fell on her And silently she came to him.   And as the dawn of Laurelin shone, Feanor rose and clasped her hand, Before her knelt and kissed her brow And he set upon it a silver crown; But later that crown was lost in the sand.   Of The Silmarils   Upon Valmar was Telperion The Elder Tree of divine light, The first of the works of Kementari That shone with light of the silver sea And covered the land in radiance white.   Also was there Laurelin And she was blessed by Elbereth Fair was her golden crown of light And fair were her beams that pierced the Night Before her beauty was marred by Death.   But ever was the heart of Feanor Troubled with a sense of great unrest A thought that in ages yet to come The work of Yavanna should be undone And the Light of the Trees forever be lost.   In secret he forged three glorious gems Unsurpassed, three wonderful vessels In them imprisoned the Light of the Trees More fair than the stars on the western seas And he called them Silmarils.   He placed them high upon his brow And bore them in pride in Valinor And he showed them forth that all might see And they were hallowed by Elentari And he cherished them the more. Of The Unchaining Of Melkor Now it came to pass in Valinor That Three Ages of Doom came to a close The Three Ages of the doom of Bauglir Melkor And he was released from Angainor; Came forth from the Judgment Halls of Mandos.   And in Valmar, before Taniquetil Came Melkor from the Halls of Doom And sued for pardon before Manwe’s throne And feigned sorrow for the evil done And for Middle-earth, laid in ruin.   And Nienna aided his deceitful prayer Unaware of the purpose of his thought And Manwe hearkened to his words And his promises to heal the world And thus his freedom Melkor bought.   Then Melkor went free in Valinor And wove dark evil into his speech  And Curufinwe, in all his might Fell prey to Melkor’s hidden lies And in him woke a yearning to be free.   Thus Feanor hearkened to Melkor’s words And his heart grew bitter and proud And he forged for himself a deadly sword First of the weapons in Valinor And he fell into shadow.   And Curufinwe spoke of rebellion And battle against the Powers He spoke of the freedom of the Northern Night Of the dark wild lands beyond the Light; Of cities and strongholds and towers.   Of The Death Of The Trees Then Melkor lusted for the Silmarils And coveted them from afar But Feanor perceived his mind And closed his doors on the Lord of Night And Melkor went from Valinor.    Hidden deep in the northern cliffs Ungoliant the Great dwelt in the dark To her Melkor came in the dead of night Wove about them an evil Unlight And in secret they came unto Valmar.   Then Melkor drew forth his black spear And pierced the Trees of Valinor And their blood flowed onto the Ring of Doom And their light was quenched and laid in ruin. And Melkor fled to Middle-earth.   But his Darkness went first to Formenos And he slew there Finwe, Elven-lord And the Silmarils he took for his own But in his dark hand the Light yet shone And he set them in his Iron Crown And Feanor cursed him and named him Morgoth.   Thus Night came upon the Blessed Realm And Tirion fell into Darkness And Valmar sank in a sea of fear And Nienna washed the ground with her tears And the Shadow entered the West.   Of The Fall Of Feanor Then anger overcame Curufinwe And he went in wrath to Tirion And the Seven Sons of Feanor Swore an oath of eternal war Against Man and Elf and immortal Valar Who withheld from them the Silmarils.   They summoned to witness Illuvatar And Mandos and Manwe both And Elbereth, Queen of Stars And called on themselves Everlasting Dark If they failed to fulfill their Oath.   Thus in the madness of their wrath And the folly of their anger They set to pursue Morgoth Bauglir And wrest from his grasp the Silmarils Defying Valar and Valier.   And so it was the Noldor came, Through the vastness of the waters Came to the land of Middle-earth Immersed in Darkness since its day of birth The Darkness of the Great Lord.   And they hoisted their banners in the wind And sounded their silver horns, And Lammoth echoed their battle cry And their spears shone like stars against the sky As they marched into the North.   Then driven by the fire of his wrath Curufinwe passed o’er the plain Passed over the plain like the Jaws of Death Swift as the winds of Manwe’s breath, And his foes fled before his name.   He came to the Gates of Angband And struck the iron doors And forth from the gates came a spirit of flame Gothmog the Great, Curufinwe’s bane Went forth to do battle with the Elven-lord.   Long they fought before Angband And Curufinwe fought as one that is fey And he strove against fire and shadow Driven by his anger and his sorrow And many fell beneath his blade.   But on that night doom fell on him And at the last he was stricken down Curufinwe, Feanor Fell before the Shadow Lord And he was cast upon the ground.    And there he ended, lost in darkness, Far from the Hill of Valinor Curufinwe, Spirit of Fire And he was the slave of his heart’s desire, Thrice accursed, Feanor.   And lost are the days of Tirion, Elven-city of the sea, Lost are the days of the Blessed Light When the Trees still shone and the stars were white And all of the world was fair and free.   - Legolas