(©Emyn Muil 2013)

Shrewd and malefic, you father of the dragons,
by your enchantment, Nienor was bewitched.
On the treasure of Nargothrond you wait
for your vengeance, in the twilight of the day.

The time has come, you're ready to destroy,
by fire and flames the sky turns to red.
At nightfall near the shore you stayed for some rest,
but Túrin drew his sword, he gave you a painful death!

"Hail, Worm of Morgoth! Well met again!
Die now and the darkness have thee!
Thus is Túrin son of Húrin avenged."

He then wrenched out the sword,
But his flesh was set a flame
by the black blood hoard.
The venom burned so that he yelled in pain.

Dying in the night it told the truth,
of the doom he left behind.
He realized what he had done,
his pain led him to death.