maia-a-maia

At terminal velocity, they clashed
the Balrog and the Wizard, undeterred.
The Elvish sword, the many-stranded lash--
What none could watch, the deafest cave troll heard.
Far under Moria, the utmost shaft
that wakened from deep slumber Durin's Bane,
now bore them to the peaks of Aule's craft
Resuming combat in the storm and rain.
The Endless Stair no living dwarf had trod,
persisting only in their griots' rhyme
succumbed to combat of these demi-gods;
it's rubble-shuttered 'til the End of Time.
Tivaldo may land graceful as a cat,
but balrogs hurled from mountaintops, still splat.