Noldo by Himring

Chapter 1

In the waning of the year,

the certainty grows,

as your days shorten:

you will not see Valinor again.

Doubly doomed, within and without,

steeped in darkness and wading--

the shadows lapping your shoulders

might be hissing, whispering in your ears

that you were always theirs.

Hold fast, then!

This puny pen knife in your hand

is Ringil,

and you will fight the Dark for Beleriand,

every inch,

every step--

because the light in your eyes,

whatever they say,

is not a tired reflection,

it is the Light itself:

you are Silmaril.

Nay, more than that!

It is you, you who are Valinor.

Chapter End Notes

There is a reference here to the flame-eyed Noldor (in Sindarin, lachend or lachenn), whose eyes are said to reflect the Light of the Trees.

It is not the intention of the poem to underwrite any hierarchy or prejudices between Tolkien's peoples.
It is merely the case that Tolkien's obsession with light and its imagery resonates with me especially at this time of year.

(Oh, and Ringil is the name of Fingolfin's sword.)