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Three blades there were, born in the forges of Gondolin and lost for an age or more,
Orcrist, Glamdring, and one more, unnamed until it reached the hand of a burglar who was braver than he knew.
Christened with spider-blood, it was, and given a name too short for a proper song, but that made it no less sharp when the time came for a different battle and a different spider.
Glamdring has gone into the west, and Orcrist is still sleeping under the Lonely Mountain far away, but look you now, here is the third.
Sting! The Spider's Bane!
Orcrist, Glamdring, and one more, unnamed until it reached the hand of a burglar who was braver than he knew.
Christened with spider-blood, it was, and given a name too short for a proper song, but that made it no less sharp when the time came for a different battle and a different spider.
Glamdring has gone into the west, and Orcrist is still sleeping under the Lonely Mountain far away, but look you now, here is the third.
Sting! The Spider's Bane!
