In city white of Eldar days within the seven gates,
A maid there sang in garden gay of sunset colors bright,
The moon did then in silvery path the streets illuminate
And strains of strings from golden harp adorned the moonlit night.
Then draped wisteria's purple grace and dropped his sweet perfume,
And opened primrose golden-soft as rain filtered sunbeams.
The gardener played and in her song rejoiced the starry blooms,
While fountains laughed to chorus join and bright the lanterns gleamed.
But then there came a-wreathed in wrath, of fire were their cloaks,
The balrogs tall and in their smoke marched hordes of fetid orcs,
That gaped in hate at city fair, the flowers withered and choked,
And walls yet firm of Elven craft beneath the onslaught shook.
One last long look the gardener cast at these her living gems,
Leaves that shone as emerald, and blossoms gleamed as gold,
Where once as proud and graceful shapes, now cowered supple stems
And Nandiel wept to garden leave in Gondolin of old.
She came at last to river's mouth and there beside the sea,
She ceased at last her weary flight in fair Arvenien.
And there her songs began again beneath the swaying trees
That sighed to hear but taller grew and branches did beckon,
To Elvish heart to rest and ease the grief of evil’s blight,
That twisted ‘neath the deeds and works of Elves in marring caught.
But from the line of Lúthien, aloft the holy light,
And by its brilliant radiance, the land it blessing brought.
But woke the oath and driving on against the haven there,
Came cruel advance of those whose swords already kin-blood spilled
For those who sheltered gem they claimed they would not pity or spare,
But death to deal came they on to see their oath fulfilled.
And Nandiel took up then her bow with determined hands and strong
Not now to pluck upon the harp but pull the taut bow-string.
She would not see her garden burn nor silenced be the song
Of birds in branches stretching green that over flowers winged.
But one there was, Carenion bold, long had Maedhros he served,
Now horror froze his gleaming sword his heart was stricken sore,
“I cannot shed blood of these my kin nor slaughter foul observe,
Not for this my sword shall rise, not for this our wars.”
To Orosser he bowed his head for long in friendship they
Together had fought Beleriand’s wars and together drawn their swords.
But not for friend nor loyalty would he do this deed that day,
Orosser grieved but steady stayed to orders from his lord.
Then darkness fell on Sirion, that flowed to salt-teared sea,
And in the streets, there men and Elves did desperately contend.
And Nandiel with quiver full on garden wall ready,
A deadly rain of arrows keen from bow of yew to send.
And pierce the wood of shield broad, Orosser turned to gaze,
To wall where crouched that archer tall who drew again her bow,
To fell the warrior below, but swift his shield he raised,
And leapt to tree and thence to wall, sword drawn to face his foe.
“No further step now shalt thou take unless thou first me slay,
For not shall we who twice have lost our towers tall and fair,
To treason’s greed shall yield swift or weapons aside lay.”
She drew her knife and left no time for him to now prepare
But back and forth their weapons clashed upon the garden wall.
Until at last a mighty strike and slipped her Elven blade
And spinning as an autumn leaf to earth beneath it fell.
Then river wept and trees did droop in Havens great dismayed.
Defeat lay then on Sirion and the stones were paved with red,
With desperate anguish but broken not, Elwing did defy
The oath-sworn princes with stained swords, and looked to sea that spread,
And in the crashing roaring waves their prize was then denied.
And sorrowed waves and called the gulls along the stretching beach,
For seemed it there beyond all cure that every hope did break.
And holy gem forever gone from their grasping reach,
No hostages save Elwing’s sons did Maedhros care to take.
Orosser came to captive free, but paused he and implored,
With voice that trembled as he pled before that archer maid,
“No cause have you to give me heed, no trust can be restored,
Yet one there was who lord betrayed and to your side was swayed,
His sword he turned against his oath and traitor turned to liege,
Yet which of us the treason worse in this twisted age?
I beg you for Carenion speak, and let not hatred reach,
Our charge lay not to his account, and his deeds this day acknowledge.”
One moment cold her hatred waxed one moment then it thawed.
For though the plea be brought by foe, Carenion indeed
Had spurned his bonds of lord and now must mercy find abroad,
And this the least of payment must have earned his valiant deeds.
And though it seemed all friendship must parched and dry now wither,
And though all smashed were roses proud, the gardens she had nurtured,
A dandelion yellow blazed from the stones broad fissures,
A flower small, bruised yet unbowed, from strife yet undeterred.
In recompense he sent to her news of Elwing’s sons.
Until in years of waning age as princes tall they came,
To Gil-Galad beside the sea. But she to wild regions
In age then new as scout did roam far from gardens tame.
And strong of arm the huntress grew, roaming ever further,
Not unprepared would she be caught, but vigilant her watch,
And now and then she came upon some unfamiliar flower,
And brought it back to Lindon fair in soil new to lodge.
But darkness came to Elvenness, and treason once again,
Did run the weeping rivers red and and lay to rubbled waste,
The darkened forge and silver gates piled with the slain,
And through their smouldering shadowed land forth they fled with haste,
And called for aid and looked to west each hopeless weary day
The Elves of far Eregion, Noldor skilled and proud.
But Elwing’s son did muster forth, and in his great array,
The huntress did then ride to war beneath the spreading clouds
Through groaning grass and shattered stones and the bowed holly trees,
The scout did search for hopeful signs that there still Elves did dwell,
And sought the orcs whose burnings fled before them on the breeze,
But long with silent step she walked the land in danger fell.
Until her hunt was met at last with faces worn but fair,
The leader drew his sword in fear, advancing to defend,
His armour stained though splendid make, and black his braided hair,
Until he saw her Elvish bow and dared to hope again.
But for her the past broke down the present’s feeble wards,
She saw again those doomed days, death and evil ends
Pursuing, still pursuing. Oh bore he the same sword?
That once she thought her breath would steal and houseless spirit send?
Oh where the days when roses in the dawn would wondering wake?
A refuge from the shadowed land now shadowed seemed he grey
In regret his withered pride, overcome by umbral ache
Of echoless laments throughout the wearing years he’d stayed.
The silence broke as down he threw his gleaming keen-edged blade
As if it burned still from its use by Elvish hand ‘gainst Elf.
But Nandiel watched as cold it fell and in the grass it lay,
And remembered then her task, but still her bow she held,
“From the herald of the king, Elrond, Elwing’s son,
Have I been sent to seek for news, for evil rumours we,
Have heard of fair Eregion and thus with haste have come.
I see ye lead a band, what news? For others there I see?”
“Once more we meet while cities fall, and fitting it may be,
That I who once you so did wrong, now taste that bitter grief.
But these for whom I safety seek from burning city flee,
Oh tell me if there yet be hope that still this charge I’ll keep?”
Then she did bend and took in hand his gleaming bright edged sword,
And held it out, he wordless took, and she then made reply,
“The past beneath us darkened lies but let us in accord,
Together fight our common foe his discord we’ll defy.”
Against the traitor’s wrath they fought and though the darkness deep
And woeful days and sorrow’s nights yet still one grief was mended.
Her bow was swift his sword edged keen until to hidden keep
The Elves fell back and to the valley in retreat did wend.
In Imladris they tended trees and she did plant the flowers,
There tulips and hyacinth bloomed and oaks did shade the fountains
And of a fortress they did make in those watchful hours
A haven to defy the dark and make of war a garden.
"The composer of this poem is unknown. Some have suggested that Pelilasel, sister of Orosser may have written it, yet this theory is not advanced by anyone who has met that former captain in Maedhros’s force. More likely it is the work of Vistare, whose position as one of the followers of Curufin who stayed in Nargothrond, and thus came after the destruction of Nargothrond and Doriath to the Havens of Sirion and beheld its fall, would fit the themes of reconciliation that run through the poem." -Gwetheril, Lore-keeper of the Dúnedain.
