Author's Note: This is a poem written by an unknown author, identified only as 'of the House of the Golden Flower'. This version is translated from a Westron script I'd found when hunting through my attic some time ago. As the notes indicated that the Westron version was translated from the Adûnaic, which was translated from the Sindarin, which was translated from the original Quenya, I can only offer the excuse that it has no doubt lost a great deal of it's original beauty in the multiple translations.

Disclaimer: Obviously, none of the above or the below is true. My apologies to Tolkien, who apart from being a far better writer than I will ever be, was also a far better poet.

So it was that far across the sea
We saw the red light at Losgar,
Were betrayed by fire, by Fëanáro,
And wept, knowing ourselves lost.

Yet not repentant, else we would have gone
With Arafinwë - our choice was made
Our path laid; the Great ice awaited
Our coming, our appointed doom.

in darkness we went, in darkness wept,
Like insects crept across the ice,
in darkness mourned, with frozen tears,
For that we'd lost and left behind.

‘Twas bitter pride that lured us on,
The cold we matched with Noldorin fire,
And Nolofinwë knew not doubt,
For him we cast our fears aside.

And thus survived; when Rána rose,
We saw Ennórë by his silver light,
The home we'd bled for, and we swore
We would be all the stronger for it.

We who have known winter,
Shall love summer all the more for it,
We who have known darkness
Shall be heralds of the light,

We who have fallen
Shall rise; sound the drums!
And Morgoth in his dark heart shall know fear:
The Noldor are come!

Author's Note: Quenya names/words:

Fëanáro=Fëanor
Arafinwë=Finarfin
Nolofinwë=Fingolfin
Rána=The Moon
Ennórë=Middle-earth
Helcanyérë= ice-sorrow.