Poetry > Hoegard Harfoot's Poetry > The Dwarf Smith's Gift

The Dwarf Smith's Gift

by Hoegard Harfoot
July 22, 2010

Hammers do ring as the forge irons sing
As do dwarf smiths so bold
Bellow's hot breath is the coal-stone's death
The forge masters do scold
White hot flame does the iron wright claim
Ere the forges grow cold
Bearded pride shines by the forge's side
As metal they do mold
Stout are dwarf-made tools of battle trade
Pride of the Durin’s fold
Richly are bought crafts dwarf smiths have wrought
Though never are they sold
That which spurns the spear and sword blow turns
The legends to uphold
Beyond all compare dwarf armors are rare
Worth more than any gold
Dwarf smith’s gift won brings victory swift
So say the tales of old