Water and Flame

Some say the West will end with water,
Some say in flame.
And if dear Atalante's slaughter
Should foretell, I hold with water.
For as the wave from furthest West
Ascended Meneltarma's height,
Gift once possessed
Proved then our plight.

But fate denies an end so grand
To Western sons;
Orodruin's ash expands
And e'er we start, the East has won.
For I have seen it in my stone:
The burning plains, the Cruelest Eye.
We stand alone;
The West shall die.

[A/N: This was written in response to the HASA Challenge to write fanfic in the style of classic literature. It is in the form of Robert Frost's poem "Fire and Ice," which is available at http://www.bartleby.com/155/2.html]