Heget's Blatherings

and felt the blood from the cut on his brow, 
the missing stone from his crown, 
saw the sleeping forms 
of his army around his feet, 
great was his rage, 
loud was his bellows. 
Lighting did he cast, 
great bolts aiming at the fleeing shapes: 
the one that had looked like 
a great wolf 
with long pale tail and 
had crouched behind his heels 
and was not his - 
and the chit, that cunning maid, 
who had come in the shape of 
his bat servant and 
betrayed and lied. 

And when his lightning hit not 
the two for which he aimed, 
greater still was his rage. 

Weak and untrustworthy 
were Thuringwethil and her brood, 
like the spider they came only to betray him. 
With his anger he should smite them all, 
thus were his thoughts. 

And thus did they bolt, 
the little shadows, the skittering wings. 
All the children of Thuringwethil fled 
before the lightning of their former lord, 
shrieking above the crash of thunder, 
ducking under the great gusts 
kicked up by the wings of Manwë’s eagles, 
flying on the southerly winds sent 
by the Lord of the Airs, 
away away they flew. 

Safety and solace they found, 
the tiny shadow children of the night,
and learned to reclaim 
its darkness from cruelty and rage. 
Beside the dancing figure of greatest voice that ever was 
there flew this multitude of high-pitched singers. 

Bats lived on the island of Tol Galen with the Dead That Live.