Oh, gather the Orcs and pour a few
For the Master of the land;
For in Arda there is no finer brew
Than we drink here in Old Angband!
Let us drink to the fall of Ilúvatar
And the Valar that praise him so;
And to kinslaying, greed, incest and war
And all else that will bring Elves woe.
Let us drink to the fall of Fëanor
And the rest of his stupid folks;
Though he made me some jewels that I adore
On his lembas I hope he chokes.
Let us welcome the men and bid them drink
For their hearts are as black as mine;
They may look like the Elves but I do think
I could bend them to my design.
Let us all raise our glasses in a toast
For our future indeed looks bright;
No this isn't a brag, it's not a boast
All of Arda will cringe in fright.
So lets drink to the falling of the West
When together we all shall stand;
And shall sing of the brew that is the best
In the Halls of Old Angband!
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.