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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
A bitter farewell, yet hope is still


She was noble daughter of royal heritage that lives in legends,
And she then has married the Elven Lord of the greatest descent in all tales,
Their sons were blessed by their imperishable love, although this merry story by the most sorrowful of the events was eventually tested,
With grief being too much of a burden for her to sustain, so that she opted for the last voyage in the end, leaving behind her sad beloved ones in darkening times, and grey and ill for the immortal soul.

Walküre:
The forbidden privilege


How could that be a concrete tale to be told? How could that be in line with legends and stories of old that antiquity to us has left?
Every moment we have been told that death is not to be opposed by the arts of whatever mortal who deems the deed favourable,
For the sad ending is a fate that all human share in equal term, but an exception did occur in the forgotten past of ours, whose mystery I fear shall never be unearthed,
That a noble man took the way of the open sea, when the blue had been sealed and to all denied, yet his mortal soul passed the mists of those waves, and they narrate that the gift of never-ending life to him by the divine will was then granted.

Walküre:
A hue of good faith


Sam, the portrait of the quest looks obscure at the sight and every passing day fate is ill-boding, and grim and somber for each character of the tale.

Mr. Frodo, what we could do with in dark hours is just a hue of good faith, which ever-present stays and in the darkest night as a guiding star bright remains.

Walküre:
Indomitable in front of the dreadful king


The Maiden of the heath had dwelt in the royal halls beside the king,
To the manners of the noble kind indeed used,
Yet the fiery passion was an ever-burning flame and her resolve for the fight never could fail, for the harsh life of the peasant she knew well, along with cold winters and frozen lands that for food cannot serve,
And the shield she bore proud and bold, the sword wielded and ruin upon the fell ranks ready to bring, unto the time when destiny made it so that the Maiden the King of the Dead had to contest, and albeit his witchcraft of ghoulish type, her blade pierced through the flesh-less body of the cursed spirit, dooming the wraith and trapping him in void of misery and gaol.

Walküre:
The fury of the common one


You, common souls, are destined to bear the heaviest brunt in this sad world of cruelty and rage,
With you being the chosen victim on whom the Evil finds pleasure in inflicting grievous wounds, and the existence of many in unjust violence has been taken,
Yet the forces who never rest have committed the error which none should make,
To think that the weak hand never could be armed with blade nor shield, but the real fire that hope gives is within the adamant resolve, to protect whom we love and the land which with toil long we have nurtured and sowed.

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