Halloween Eve Weirdness: A Finrod vs Sauron Rap

This one was one of those projects that had sat idle for some time. Its origins are obvious enough – every Tolkien geek who has ever watched Epic Rap Battles of History wishes they themselves could one day do a rap interpretation of Finrod Felagund vs Sauron, in the same sort of style. On a much, much lower budget, of course, and without the skill and expertise. Or in my case, without any budget, skill or expertise, full stop.

In my case, I got a fair way through a draft script… only to shelve it some time ago. I was inspired to dig it out, and do something with it, by an interesting YouTube analysis from GirlNextGondor – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YjcjCi-lClU, which brought Tolkien’s most famous singing duel to my mind.

Well, here is result:

Please forgive my flaws. I’m pretty inexperienced at this sort of thing. The various copyright formalities are posted with the actual video – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAW24it006o

Addendum: The lyrics…


Mairon’s the name, when I’m preaching to the Choir

The greatest of the Maia, with a form you must admire

My skills, and my kills, are too numerous to mention

I’m Melkor’s great lieutenant, you’re a lowly mortal’s henchman.

I’m Lord of the werewolves, so beware!

Romancer of the Necromancers,

with thick and shiny hair.

I grift when I gift, as the harpists sadly sing

So bow, poor fool, and kiss my ring.

Dung-born Dungalef,

your tongue will soon admit

Your fundamental failures in this tower’s darkest pit

For I deem you are doomed,

your dreams will be consumed:

My spies and eyes are wise to lies,

and penetrate your fool’s disguise!

From the better to the fettered.

I can reverse the letters.


Mairon or Sauron, it’s just not on.

Call yourself what you will… I’m appalled and feeling ill.

You sprawl in my hall, you Morgothian thrall.

Yet, one day, you’ll fall… to the four foot tall.

Yes, I’m Finrod, you clod. You plodding God-denier.

You’ve milked the Melkor-talk, but it’s drivel from a liar.

I’m the hewer of caves, the teacher of Men,

You torture your slaves, and drag them out for Draugluin.

We crossed the Grinding Ice,

ere we came to this land.

Now it’s time for an Elf

to smack you back to Angband.

You can’t quench the Quendi,

oh Gorthaur the Cruel

Behold the boldest Noldo since Fingolfin’s duel!

I sheathe my teeth in werewolves…


I’ve thousands of pages since the dawn of ages.

And I do keep my prisoners locked away in cages.

But a Noldorin Lord is the tastiest treat

The blood-soaked hypocrisy is so hard to beat.

Curse me you may, you damnable slayers:

Ask the cinders of the Sindar

if swearing helps or hinders.

The Valar still scold you, golden Noldo, all the while

Your names and shames defile your Exile.

You’ve got the loving fandom. I’ve got the living phantoms,

Your words might be taunting, but I flaunt the haunting,

Your struggles mean nothing, your life even less,

So I’ll grant you swift death, if you only confess.

To my victory


The Doom lies upon us, it is indeed true

But a much iller fate is now waiting for you.

Your master was chained, and shall be voided again

With his servant abhorred by both Elves and by Men.

He lusts to possess, and you seek control

But neither of you grasp the entire world whole.

To swallow your lies, to follow your pride

Would leave our existence all hollow inside.

A mortal once saved me, and I gave him a ring

With a promise attached. ‘Tis no small a thing

For a Lord of the Eldar to give gift of his word

Maybe in time divine grace will be heard.

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