[Lachwen]

I don't see why not...

Boromir
To the shores of pale Nen Hithoel,
In the shadow of Tol Brandir,
Came one of courage, valor and might;
Faithful companion; Boromir.

Proud son of the Steward of Gondor
He came from Ecthelion’s White Tower
To be part of the last desperate fight
Against the Enemy’s power.

His worth was proven many times
On plain and mountain-slope;
And often did his courage hold
In times devoid of hope.

Until the shores of Nen Hithoel,
In the shadow of Tol Brandir;
Then did his will give out at last;
Cheated spirit; Boromir.

The battle of will he did lose
But the battle of heart he won;
And his spirit passed, free of fear,
In the warm tree-mottled Sun.

Rauros roared on as ever
As the Sun fell from the noon;
In Parth Galen three stood in grief;
Their friend had met his doom.

Nen Hithoel is clear and cold;
The Sun sinks behind Tol Brandir.
And over the falls rides a small Elven boat;
Lamented hero; Boromir.


The Fall of Gondolin (I have really imaginative titles, no? )
In the hidden valley of green Tumladen,
A precious emerald, veiled from sight,
Lay the stainless jewel, so fair and free;
O shining city, O haven of light!

O Gondolin! Fair Gondolin!
Ondolindë, Song wroght of Stone!
The lasting haven of the Noldor,
The bright mem'ry of Tirion!

Sharp towers of gleaming silver,
Flowing streets of pearl-white,
Lit bright by carvéd crystal lamps
Shining like the stars of night.

O golden vision of Laurelin!
O radiant image of Telperion!
O white and glittering fountain free,
And rainbow of your water thereon!

But the fairest jewel kept hid therein,
No silver fountain with sapphire fall,
Nor gem fair-wrought, but Turgon's daughter,
Bright Idril Celebrindal.

There ever craving for her love
And ever doomed to be alone,
Maeglin lusted and yearned unceasing,
His black heart cold as stone.

And when Tuor, Huor's son, there came
And captured golden Idril's heart,
Then Maeglin's wrath brought doom on all
And tore fair Gondolin apart.

For in his search for gems and ore
In the Encircling Mountains tall
Morgoth caught him, and for his aid
He promised him Celebrindal.

Thus on a night of festival,
The feast of Gates of Summer,
Morgoth's army came at unawares
To kill, and burn, and plunder.

Then Maeglin captured bright Idril
And Eärendil, good Tuor's son;
And Tuor batled him in the doomed city
As with fire the pearl-white streets did run.

There Maeglin came unto his end,
Cast far out form the city's white walls,
And his body strikes the ground below
Even as the King's tower falls.

Tuor and Idril, with their child and friends,
And all others that they could gather,
Took the secret way long in the building
And, sorrowful, fled the disaster.

But in Eagle's Cleft sorrow struck again;
There came a Balrog, a demon of wrath;
In the high place with him Glorfindel fought,
And they fell from Cirith Thoronath.

The refugees of Ondolindë,
With saddened hearts and lessened host,
At last found refuge with their kin
On Sirion, by the coast.

There they dwelt for many a year,
And sang there many a mournful lay
For their lost City of Seven Names;
Fair Gondolin Ondolindë.


I still really want to write one about Fingolfin's death, but I've tried several times and only have this to show for it:
And thus he passed, in years of yore,
When he took his sword Ringil in hand
And rode away on Rochallor.

Maybe the rest will come to me someday...