Telchar
by Arnow Thunderstruck
A forge burning bright
Heating hammering folding
His beard smoking
Again and again
To the forge and the anvil
A score times no more
The blade glows red hot
White steam hisses from the quench
Grinding now with stones
Polished sharp and proud
Hefting high behold Narsil
Sword of the First Age
Zirak's apprentice
Forging all our destinies
Now the master smith
Telchar
