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Description
I painted Fingolfin and Morgoth already not long ago but there are so many inspiring passages in this short fight that I wanted to do it again!

oil on canvas 40x40 cm

“He passed over Dor-nu-Fauglith like a wind amid the dust, and all that beheld his onset fled in amaze, thinking that Oromë himself was come: for a great madness of rage was upon him, so that his eyes shone like the eyes of the Valar. Thus he came alone to Angband's gates, and he sounded his horn, and smote once more upon the brazen doors, and challenged Morgoth to come forth to single combat. And Morgoth came. (...)

But at last the king grew weary, and Morgoth bore down his shield upon him. Thrice he was crushed to his knees, and thrice he arose again and bore up his broken shield and stricken helm. But the earth was all rent and pitted about him,and he stumbled and fell backward before the feet of Morgoth; and Morgoth put his left foot upon his neck, and the weight of it was like a fallen hill. Yet with his last and desperate stroke Fingolfin hewed the foot with Ringil, and the blood gushed forth black and smoking and filled the pits of Grond".

JRR Tolkien, The Silmarillion

Prints available here
or here
Instagram

Description
I painted Fingolfin and Morgoth already not long ago but there are so many inspiring passages in this short fight that I wanted to do it again!

oil on canvas 40x40 cm

“He passed over Dor-nu-Fauglith like a wind amid the dust, and all that beheld his onset fled in amaze, thinking that Oromë himself was come: for a great madness of rage was upon him, so that his eyes shone like the eyes of the Valar. Thus he came alone to Angband's gates, and he sounded his horn, and smote once more upon the brazen doors, and challenged Morgoth to come forth to single combat. And Morgoth came. (...)

But at last the king grew weary, and Morgoth bore down his shield upon him. Thrice he was crushed to his knees, and thrice he arose again and bore up his broken shield and stricken helm. But the earth was all rent and pitted about him,and he stumbled and fell backward before the feet of Morgoth; and Morgoth put his left foot upon his neck, and the weight of it was like a fallen hill. Yet with his last and desperate stroke Fingolfin hewed the foot with Ringil, and the blood gushed forth black and smoking and filled the pits of Grond".

JRR Tolkien, The Silmarillion

Prints available here
or here
Instagram