JRR's groundwork

The pride of Denethor was Sauron's tool
to broach the citadel so stoutly built.
The fall of Faramir was doubly cruel
increasing as it must, a father's guilt.
John Milton resonates through Tolkien's work
his highest praise is saved for humble Sam.
While no one--quite--calls Boromir a jerk
Galadriel--for one--accounts him damned.
His outcome's dicey 'til his final breath
defending Hobbits under Amon Hen.
Unworthy life, redeemed in noble death
A Catholic author's jaundiced view of Men.
Rejecting allegory out of hand,
he can't transcend the world he understands.

Pellenor

The breaking dawn lights silver tree on black
that lady Arwen'd wrought in mithril thread.
Lord Aragorn, with legions at his back
rides into battle, 'though his army's dead.
As Theoden gave up his final breath,
king Eomer sweeps up the pennon green.
Rohirrim roared in unison for ''Death!"
Their blood is high, their lances long, and keen.
The final die's cast at the Crack of Doom
by Gollum in his deathgrip on the Ring.
But such maneuvers need the sort of room
that's only purchased with the deaths of kings.
Great warriors and small, show each their worth
in Tolkien's epic tales of MiddleEarth.

oermatched

His vambrace showed the faintest smudge of breath,
and Imrahil felt hope leap in his breast.
The maid who'd seemed so parlous fair in death,
now waxed heroic in her martial quest.
The terror that has served the Morgul Lord
as shield and armor in a changing world,
availed him nought when facing Dernhelm's sword;
he'd never faced the equal of this girl.
Despairing of the only man she craved,
she'd sought at least an honorable end.
Where only menfolk could be seen as 'brave'
a fiery soul horselords can't apprehend.
The worthy death fair Eowyn desired
deferred when Faramir was spared the fire.

The Will to Power

The balrog's motives nowhere get explored
could he aspire to wield this parlous thing?
He's no mere worm, to stash it in his hoard;
a maia'd be a monster with the Ring!
Olorin'd held it once, but let it go;
he wasn't hither-sent to dominate.
The One's not his to wield, or to bestow.
This Age, it's little folk hold their world's fate.
While Gandalf fell, ring-bearer bore it East
through Lorien, where Time seemed not to pass.
unwitting how the mage threw down the beast
returning through his darkness, at the last.
Of all the characters to face the test,

for Tolkien, humble Samwise comes out best.

Or zarua l'tzadik

Eärendil and Elwing brought the jewel
that Feanor'd begrudged when he fled East.
Incensed in Valinor that Valar ruled
while Morgoth ravished Middle-Earth in peace.
Yavanna'd speculated She could mend
with such a boon, the luminescent Trees.
But even should the Ban on Noldor  bend,
She's now implacable to all their pleas.

Supernal glow pre-dating moon and sun

is henceforth only present in the sky.

While heroes'  journey at great peril's done,

their tots are fostered on the other side.
'Til Feänor himself proffers the gems,

not even Valar have clear claim to them.

the object of desire

Eärendil saw Gondolin destroyed
last bastion of the way life'd been before.
No opportunity to be a boy
as Middle-Earth's configured for more war.
This half-blood princeling grew, and took a bride
with lineage as quirky as his own.
Each, Elvish royalty on mothers' side
and she's the heir to Elu Thingol's throne.
The twain defied the Ban, to bring the Gem
Yavanna'd called for to restore the Trees
of gilt-edged leaves and burnished argent stem.
But she's contemptuous of Noldor pleas.
One nova in the skies of Middle Earth
is all one salvaged silmaril was worth.

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.

fireplay

Two Maiar clash in flame on Durin's span
who hadn't met in Middle-Earth's Third Age.
The fearsome bane of Elf, or Dwarf, or Man,
was unprepared for combat with a mage.
Utumno fell, most balrogs went to ground
disdaining leniency in the far West.
There dozing deep, 'til Durin's folk delved down
insatiable in their mithril quest.
Istari'd played no part in Eru's scheme
as first enunciated long before.
But this old swordsman's tougher than you'd deem
he'll need an entry in Ents' rhymes of lore.
Grey bearer of the Elvish ring of fire
dispatched his foe to the infernal choir.

playing the role

The balrog that contested Durin's span
had slept through the best part of the Third Age.
Proud bane to any dwarf, elf, ent or man
was wholly unprepared to fight a mage.
Olorin--for his part--knew what he faced
debriefing Melian on the far shore
He knew that foes of his own Maia race
survived another generation's war.
Exactly why Iluvatar dispatched
Istari isn't anywhere explained
To Sauron, such might seem a fitting match
a Maia designate as Maia bane.
Earth-rending combat wouldn't mean a thing

except to rear-guard Frodo, and the Ring.

foul air

Olorin hoped a pipe might help him think;
no memory could guide him at this fork.
Some fragrant smoke might purge the evil stink
that couldn't be attributed to orcs.
The caves of trolls had their unwholesome smell
but something worse offends the wizard's sense;
What Pippin wakened in the guardroom's well
predates the coming of the Elves, and ents.
Each option leads to leagues of lampless gloom
without a stick of fuel to catch a spark.
If anyone's to get through Khazad Dum
one mis-step could be parlous in the dark.
Staunch friend and guide to dwarf, man, hobbit, elf
shows no regard for safeguarding himself.

heirlooms

"As weregild for my father, I'll take that"
Quoth Beren as he clasped Barahir's hand
from orcs struck dumb with wonder as they sat;
his motives were too much to understand.
That ring of Felagund can open doors;
An oath like Finrod swore, no Elf forgets;
'though Melian'd foreseen the coming wars,
to Thingol, mortals seemed mere useless pets.
The Oath of Feanor grants no respite
'though Elu Thingol never took the vow,
Dark Elves, no less than Noldor of the Light
are compassed in its mischief, anyhow.
Late-comers play our part in Eru's scheme
however frail--to Eldar eyes--we seem.

choices

Olorin hoped a pipe might help him think;
no memory could guide him at this fork.
Some fragrant smoke might purge the evil stink
that couldn't be attributed to orcs.
The caves of trolls had their unwholesome smell
but something darker stings the wizard's sense;
What Pippin wakened in the guardroom's well
predates the sun, and moon, and lands, and Ents.
The mithril shirt that stopped a orc-lord's lance
that might have drilled a boar, or buffalo
against a balrog wouldn't stand a chance;
a maia--once gone bad's--an awful foe.
The friend and guide to dwarf, man, hobbit, elf
shows no regard for safeguarding himself.

ka-chinng!

From Glorfindel, the Nazgul wheeled and fled.
A Noldo incandescent in his rage,
this balrog's bane, too puissant to stay dead,
was taking zero crap in his old age.
Defending Gondolin, he'd made his name
with Mandos, who was quick to send him back.
Each balrog slayer gets another game;
the deaths of elves are less than white and black.
Olorin knew this history full well;
his balrog wasn't gonna slip away.
Tenaciously embracing as they fell
the flame of Udun's bearer had to pay.
They're Hell to slay with battle-ax, or sword,
but killing balrogs wins a life's reward.

arcana

The IFF Celembrimbor devised

to keep the riffraff out of Khazad Dum,
in later days, defied the great and wise
who sought security in starless gloom.
Olorin knew the author by repute;
the son of Curufin left reams of lore.
But dwelling still in Bliss through this world's youth;
he'd never had to enter through this door.
Too late to sway Isildur from his fate
great Gandalf came to midwife the Fourth Age.
But first, at Moria, this mute West Gate
posed quite a barrier to one grey mage.
While archers shoot; while swordsmen slash, and hack
Mithrandir slew his Balrog, and came back.

the real thing

Wolf-Sauron met the Hound of Valinor;
sham canine pitted 'gainst the Jaws of Steel.
Despite the form, he's plastic at the core,
while Huan--Platonically--is quite surreal.
By special dispensation, a pure Form--
sent hither to the lands of Middle earth--
for newfoundland or whippet set the norm,
however one would measure a dog's worth.
A Craftsman schooled in Aule's atelier,
ambitious for dominion over Men,
where others have a spine, there's only clay,
to fashion a new face each day again.
Faux wolf shifts shape to flee on vampire wings
unable to contend with the real thing.

the team

Of Ents Yavanna sang, and Ents there were
'though dormant, until Durin rose and walked.
Green guardians of all that's dear to Her,
but--at that time--they neither sang, nor talked.
Age-long, their thoughts were only for themselves
and sessile Olvar, sprung from Aule's soil.
The gift of language came to them through elves,
and for that debt, they're everlasting loyal.
Olorin showed up late in Eru's plan,
inserted as Dark Powers spread and grew.
As shepherd not to trees, but mortal man,
he guided much that others were to do.
'Though Hobbits joined the narrative quite late
on "Gandalf's pets" depends all Arda's fate.

Temptations

Galadriel held each one with her eye
inquiring what could make him shirk the quest
as goddesses probed Paris with their bribes
to say that of the three, he loved her best.
Proud Boromir was keen to try his hand
at playing hero to all MiddleEarth,
astride a continent at his command,
but over-confident in his own worth.
Wee folk displayed what bigger players lack;
humility to bear, and lose, the One.
With Gollum's aid, they pitched it in the Crack
of Doom, because that's what had to be done.

Stout hobbits made an end of the One Ring
while Sauron's gaze was elsewhere on a king.

old debts

The heir of Isildur called back the host
Who'd turned their coats an Age of Man before.
The Dark Lord's minions fled before such ghosts
belatedly reporting to wage war.
This Shadow Army came with sword and spear
but never got to demonstrate they'd bite.
Their enemies that didn't die of fear
cast down their arms and ran away in fright.
The ships of Umbar bore them all aboard
to turn the tide when everything looked grim.
When Dernhelm's thrust unstrung the Morgul lord

few save the Hobbit spared an eye for "him".

For those who long ago had broken faith

the call to serve's atonement for a wraith.

emmisary

Age-long, the balrog fell and Gandalf clung
in mortal combat under MiddleEarth.
An epic too few minstrels would have sung,
out of proportion to the subject's worth.
Sent back to do Iluvatar's behest,
reborn, a wizard greater than before,
distracting Sauron from the Hobbits' quest,
flamboyant general of the sham war.
Faux-elf, who wields the greatest Elvish ring
diverting Mordor from the Free World's bet,
wise midwife to the Fourth Age and its King
lured armies far from Frodo and his threat.
In Moria, he fell to rise again
This subtle author of the Age of Men.

Treacherous

"Bring Hobbits!" Saruman adjured his scouts
"by guile, or force, as best you may contrive"
without explaining what is all about
"but bring them now! And bring them here alive!"
The secret Sam let slip can't be allowed
this House of Cards would instantly go bust
his treachery must not be voiced aloud,
no minion in his pack deserves such trust.
No messenger came to Nan Curunir,
he's left to speculate how they'd forget.
he orc battalions that he'd held so dear
the Rohirrim had served up en brochette.
He'll find the bed he's made both strait and hard
now Fangorn wood hast marched to Isengard.