Poetry Of Middle Earth-By Nubur Of Erebor During His Adventures Over Middle Earth

            The Blacksmith

The blacksmith hammers metal,

The blacksmith makes sure metal is not brittle.

The blacksmith controls an element,

The element of earth.

If a blacksmith thinks it,

 It can be done.

The forge must be lit,

The blacksmith must be fit,

Or he can’t produce enough force.

And I say without boast,

That dwarfs more than most,

Can create works of art.

Nubur of Erebor

 

 

 

 

The Forest

Trees rustling,

Ferns bustling.

Birds in the distance tweet,

While very near a coney meets its mate under a tree.

All around there are trees ripe with food,

And then I pick an apple, and sit down to eat it with a jug of brewed mead.

I am a dwarf,

From the mountains of old,

Where the winter bites icy and cold,

So this forest is unlike most things I’ve seen.

It is green as ever,

It looks like heaven.

And Even in the winter its cosy and sweet.

Nubur of Erebor

 

     The Great Forge of Erebor

The great forge glows red and yellow,

It turns hard iron into something mellow.

A hundred smiths work it at a time,

While the heat is worse than being hit with a hammer.

Only a smith of respect may use the forge,

While every smith has to inspect their metal,

With a keen and focused eye.

My home towns forge dwarfs even the biggest among men,

When they see it they look in awe of the great forge of Erebor.

Nubur of Erebor

 

 

The Mountains

I am in my natural domain,

The mountains and caves,

 With not a man to be seen,

 Only my brothers and kin.

I explore and then when finished I camp in a cave,

I cook some beef and sometimes crave some pipe weed.

The snow is white but in the night it looks unnatural and evil.

When I find a town,

 I ask a local where I can find a smithy,

 And when I find them I ask them what needs to be done

And then I create,

Some amazing and great,

Things for the man.

But at the end of the day,

 I wish that I could stay here for ever longer.

Nubur of Erebor

 

 

 

The Shire

Rolling hills

Spinning mills,

Running rivers

May give you shivers,

But there’s not a more peaceful place.

Peaceful place

And a marketplace,

The size of a large castle.

Food for all from a market stall,

That sells the freshest food.

A hobbits favourite place,

Is by a river or lake,

With a fishing rod in his hand.

Then when finished, must go home for dinner,

For their catch is family favourite.

Farmers work in their fields,

While they wield their spades and scythes.

If there ever was a place I would want to die, it would be here with my friends.

Nubur of Erebor

 

 

 

The Wealth of Erebor

The wealth of Erebor is unmatched,

A whole castle full of gold, jewels and precious metals.

All races come from far around to gawk at the wealth of Erebor, elves, men and hobbits,

 come to look at the wealth of Erebor.

We craft amazing pieces of art,

Which add to the wealth of Erebor.

Rune stones, jewellery, armour and weapons,

All these would not be possible,

If not for Durins sons.

Nubur of Erebor