Annals of Aman

[Walküre]

Middle-lands made of ore.
Middle-earths to the core.
Finer place thou hast not,
Fraught with mighty gallant lot.

Shadows too partake in tale
That we oft recount in wail.
Telling ruins of afore
In the shires made of ore.

[Walküre]

Darksome King, thee woe betide!
Thy grievous name I herefore cried!
Tenson I shall have in just,
Or my blade be torn and rust.

Hark my vow! Hark my oath!
With but valour deeds I clothe.
Nasty Fiend, depart avaunt!
This my Light thou shalt not daunt.

[Walküre]

At last thou givest way to Power!
Thunder roars. Heavens glower.
Fairest Queen I will be;
Dreadful omen bards foresee.

Savage seas I shall command,
By the shore, along the strand.
Weather I will bid to fight;
Fear the Lady's ancient Might!

[Walküre]

Away with thee,
Vile faithless mage!
Thou art to see
Thy kindred's rage.

White am I gone back,
Sent to end this war,
Which evils sowed, alack,
And stained the stone with gore.

[Walküre]

Five they are, ye gods!
Faring oft and wielding rods.
Age is not to mar their being;
Wit is fresh and always keen.

Unknown is wizard's utter goal.
Prime is act and worthy role
To keep the straying tides at bay,
Choosing right and arduous way.

[Walküre]

One potent King of old
Ruled joyously and bold,
On marble-cloven throne
Inside the mountain's bone.

Above lay bright the Stone.
Of many hues it shone,
Well fairer than mere gold,
Though bearing doom to unfold.

[Walküre]

Vanya, fairest sprout!
Skilful sage and fain devout.
Soothing verse thou shalt sing
Before the Vala's Fateful Ring.

Hither thou art come to bathe
In the Lights that ever swathe,
Behind my olden mountain-wall,
Where the Tempest shan't befall.

[Walküre]

These cloven halls I built.
My wooden throne thou wilt
Defend to last hazard,
My gallant mighty guard.

These caverns I have filled,
So much as I had willed,
With joy and glinting treasure
To cheer my regal leisure.

[Walküre]

Rotten lies my City now!
With valiant ones we used to endow
This faulted stone afield
And ever-high was drawn the shield.

Shreds and tatters speak of woe;
Burnt were keeps and buried low.
What might braveness wherefore yield
For the shattered mannish shield?

[Walküre]

A song; a jolly rhyme.
Music knows to ease the clime.
Storms outside may never stay,
So do ills in elder lay.

Neither shall the Master will
Relinquish brook, dale or hill.
His is might very old
Of a time mostly untold.

[Walküre]

The King is faint,
Yet fared a saint
So farther hither,
Where brigands slither.

A light-clad stranger
Beside a ranger,
Who brings some news
To lift Men's rues.

[Walküre]

Fury festers wide.
Dreary chance to bide.
Battle draws so close,
Be they friends or foes.

Hearken to the cry,
Uttered very nigh
Flames and scorching ash;
Shall the blades slash!

[Walküre]

Hark and well behold
Songs of manifold!
Spread my tiding vast
Past the roaring Blast!

Be ye Light and Hope,
Wrights of pool and slope!
Be ye Shield and War,
Guardians of my Lore!

[Walküre]

Golden Hall, wake astir!
Rid thyself of stain and blur.
Gird thine arms with kingly stone!
To brave deed are monarchs prone.

Guileful counsel, hence thou goest;
To the snare thy vileness owest.
Traitor-mage, I shall win
Over joyless nights and sin.

[Walküre]

In the midst of green,
Be it marred or clean,
Hides the stealthy sentry
Of the marble-gentry.

Arrows fly aloft,
Which the breezes waft
To and fro the air,
At the morning's glare.