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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
The 400-year prison


Thus it happened, of the Noldor the mighty leader was killed in strife,
Amidst shadows and flames, the one who longed to avenge his fate and his art to get back,
If not that the dreadful lieutenants of the Enemy proved themselves to be beyond the immortal kind's skills,
And so the Smith now mourns in grey halls far from the common world, not finding joy nor rest for his grief's flames.

Yet whom he led to the Hither-Lands now established in those adventurous paths,
Long and much they wailed, but to conclude the quest always staunchly convinced,
Dividing territories and the shires of those lands as their just domain claiming,
For naught greater than ruling the Noldo's concern attracts.

A new High King from sorrow arose,
The resilient head of his House and with the noblest heart endowed,
Ñolofinwë, of the undimmed glory you walk the ways,
Firm and valiant, the hosts of darkness you drove off and inside a 400-year prison the odious Vala you have caged.

Walküre:
Only joy and a no-regret demise I fain would long for


They say this artefact granteth thee the widest sight,
And that one before deep desires findeth oneself,
Then, what doth the Lady desire? What would a queen ask?
(Galadriel) Only joy and a no-regret demise I fain would long for.

Walküre:
The Earth's Grudge


How much dost thou have to wail and for the death toll despair?
How much for the poisoned fields and the radiant plains a silent graveyard made?
How many the bones and leavings of whom these ways once would tread?
How many the corpses of brave warriors, far from their green home and the lovely sea?

How much, vast Arda full of all that merrier life maketh?
Thou bearest fire, ice and the bitter desert that anything alive devoureth,
Alas, fate made it like that the Enemy into thy roots all his might poured,
To sustain his horrible beasts which of true life are the marred reflection.

Walküre:
The Last Song


Dost thou remember thy last song within the ramparts of Valinórë, Princess?
When the greatest choir of all the Immortals' voices joy and solace would bring,
To please the Powers with the splendid melodies of thy kind,
When all was sunny and little did we know, that the illness was secretly growing and that the bliss would soon vanish away.

Walküre:
Young Kind


Young and mortal kind,
Plagued by sickness, feeble and the sad death,
Some might say that weakness shall not guide you very far,
But we know that the noblest valour resides in your heart, which only needs apt words to be rekindled to the glory of old.

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