Annals of Aman

[Walküre]

A blinding thunder of bright,
Piercing through ghoulish night,
A figure of pure sacred sight,
Veiled in mercy and holy light.

[Walküre]

The savour of friendship he brought,
Battling villains, a war he fought,
For the sake of his gentle companion,
Whom he followed unto the fell dominion.

The taste of bravery, the flavour of good,
Jolly spirit, buoyant mood,
To see clear, out of the wood,
Keen on labour and pleasant food.

[Walküre]

The spectre of the East,
Horrifying diabolical beast,
Desperation brings the haunting ghost,
Residing in mystery, to the many unbeknownst.

He serves his master of doom,
Round whom wraiths soar and loom,
Keeper of dungeons and wicked fort,
Concealed deep in woods of spook-sort.

[Walküre]

It shall breach the gate and crush,
Bequeathing nought but grievous ash,
To shatter hope, to take the sentry down,
For the end of the fair city, gem of the crown!

Then shall a devilish dusk be cast,
Waking dormant horror and fire blast,
Monsters howl and roar to the moon's red,
This may the Hammer, the Wolf's Head.

[Walküre]

Tales of yore are tales of gore,
Bloody contest tells the ancient lore,
Wherein the Noldo-king his silver blade wields,
In lays of fearsome hosts and broken shields.

Storm had called so evil winds,
And shadows swarmed at the behest of fiends,
Demons waving fiery whips,
Slayers of heroes whom the lone bard weeps.

Unto the arrival of the Western Lords,
Whose clamorous chant was potent words,
The Herald came to free the yoke,
For the sake of the rueful gentle folk.

[Walküre]

"Foolish forest of rotten trees,
The Eye storms in ire and all sees,
Wishing but tempest to sow,
As fell gales ever-furious blow and go;
It's time your wood served my sharp steel,
Always turn must machine and wheel,
To build the army which wars wins,
Sinking wheatgrass into drought and sins."

[Walküre]

Blessing of rare, under the stars born,
The clothes of moonlight thou hast worn,
To ride across vales and green,
On aiding the innocent thou art ever keen.

Go, now, a gentle's in peril!
In need of thy gaze and marvel,
Foe, nought canst thou do,
To stop the Eve-Star from passing through.

[Walküre]

The White Rider is getting near,
To free us from dread and fear,
Bearer of light and secret fire,
Potency of holy, power of prior.

He comes at the time of doubt,
Seeking not gain or vain clout,
For his counsel may do far more,
When acts fail and shadows breach the door.

[Walküre]

The chasm of doom spares none,
Atop the slopes whence one can't run,
There was misery forged and given fashion,
Another snare, another scheme to carry on.

One Ring, to rule them all,
For the end of order, for faith's fall;
An artefact to bind the same art,
Spelling a coming twilight, of horror the start.

[Walküre]

Three Rings to keep and care,
From time which all strippeth bare,
Which stone eateth with hunger,
As Orcs that dark infest and cities plunder.

Three Rings, worn by the chief,
Within fair vale or golden leaf,
Or about the tide of western sea
Where thou, deathless, art to be.

[Walküre]

Fallen by black hand and hammer,
The tale of fables and epic grammar,
Duel of doom before the Iron Gaol,
Whose victor we loathe and loser we wail.

Thus ended the tenson in grim,
When years get dreary and foul beseem,
Recall the contest of elder,
Of ages ruined by war and blessed by wonder.

[Walküre]

Beneath the solitary oak
Shalt thou find calm,
Merry spring just awoke
To sing her tune and psalm.

Beneath the lone willow
Bid two friends good-bye,
Not in gloom or sorrow
Knowing adventure is ever-nigh.

[Walküre]

Carry me away
From burning wheat and hay!
Witchcraft has come to kill,
And slaughter, in much nefarious will.

The longing of the vile mage
Who war against the heath is to wage,
Ardent is the desire to see the realm ablaze
As the horse-sire lacks wit and from right strays.

[Walküre]

Resilient bastion of northern times,
Sung in elegy and rhymes,
In songs of disgrace and decay,
That ever darken a joyous day.

Capital of the ancient North,
Chest of treasure and worth,
She fell woefully by cursed sword,
Drawn and held by some vicious witch-lord.

[Walküre]

Champion of Valinórë, come in the hour
Of ancestral strife, paladin and never bower,
Hither he travelled afore the rising sun,
Ere the Two Trees were even known to man.

Before the Western Shire shone
Of grandiose splendour and golden tone,
One great duellist defied darkness and vanquished the Foe,
The enemy past the night-gate he was thus to throw.