The Bitter Glass by Himring

Chapter 1

Do not look in the bitter glass
or, if you look, look not too long,
the Lord of Werewolves with his guile
will twist your memories and fears
into a deadly image.
Deep in the glass a darkness grows:
blood drips into salt waves;
white ships are charcoaled;
ice unburies the dead;
under hills of iron
minds are chained beyond freeing.
Tear your eyes away.

Has time not taught us:
what is wholly bitter
is never wholly the truth?
Beware the raven’s cry,
the deceit in the howl of the wolf!
What seems broken and withered
yet persists
and may put forth leaves again.

Listen closely: in your heart
the sea is still sighing over the sand;
in Nargothrond, there is one bird
still singing.