Mandos - Keeper of the Dead - Ninth of 15 poems of the Valar

You keep the slain in your halls,
Yet you cannot cry,
When they ball.

Your Feanturi,
Your order,
You lie on the West,
On the very borders.

You chant the prophecy,
While Feanor marches by,
You tell it to the Noldor,
Before they start to die.

Feanor your oath,
Has doomed you all,
Mandos tells the truth,
Before your fall.

Finarfin the smart,
He retreats from the march,
He hears as Feanor sighs,
He goes to the borders to lie.

Mandos your halls,
The largest of them all,
The fortress, the Prison,
West, is where it lies on.

The encircling Sea,
The most you see,
With the slain,
Dead, from their bane.

Vaire your spouse,
Your halls grow,
When she is out.

The Halls of waiting,
The Halls of fate,
The halls the men and elves shan't hate.

The Elves you re-embody,
You let them return to Aman,
Yet the men, had different fates,
Ones far from the bay,
Yet only you and Manwe,
Know the true way.

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