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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
The Grey is more of this earth


Fast now the White Rider rides and defiant faces the approaching contest that is to end this long age and determine the final winner,
He is of the world of the Angels which lies afar in the westernmost continent, being its composure noble and majestic as naught other in the ways of this world,
Many remember his past visage and fashion, as an old traveller and pilgrims interested into enquiries of all sort, instead of a saviour from havens not of the mortal shires,
And the Grey the joys of life appeared to fancy a great deal, enjoying the warm savour of wine, food and tales of gallant quests along the common people.

Walküre:
Digging too deeply


Do you fear those mines, Gandalf? Are you afraid of what Dwarven greed has discovered in the abyss which never before by living hands had been reached?
You fear and you do well! The Dwarven kind was too reliant on its mastery and knowledge of stone and crafting,
Long into unknown caves they have dug, and deep, and much deep, for the gems of the old world with unceasing desire they yearned,
Yet misadventures only befell, dragging all in darkness and flames which no common art may extinguish.

Walküre:
The maidens of the heath have since long ago the sharpness of swords known


May your eye not be led to deception, traveller, for the maidens of the heath have since long ago the sharpness of swords known, and blades they utilise too, because many of their men fell and by the slaughter brought to us perished in sadness and tears, as no common person the dreadful effects of war should ever know, as we are very fond of our daily occupations and struggle to combat the harshness of these cold lands,
We shall nonetheless do whatever it takes to fend off the aggressors and the life of our kin to spare from carnage, being our resolve the last shield we may dispose of in the hours of agonising anticipation that await the people of this mead.

Walküre:
A fiery eye that never has rest


This fashion the Deceiver has taken in this last age, when much of his prowess is lost due to past defeats and the physical appearance of his might he longs for as anything else in the world, and the sole possession of his terrible artefact the past memory of his rule might make true and real again, as in its gold the tyrant had poured his essence and will to subjugate us all in a new era of desperation, of which shattered remnants and desolation would be the most apparent of the evidences.

Alas, even in weakness and lack of a body of matter, his spirit has outlived time and still lives in this world in a never-ceasing obsession to gather his lost treasure from the hands that had unfortunately seized it, and to go in search of the One that his power can renew another time, and this would be terrible for us to know and hear, that the Dark Lord on his throne has truly returned, ready to chain the free who dwell in this world, yet for now he lingers in wait and patient planning, gazing and staring at all that moves across land, water and flesh.

Walküre:
Premonition


I had a nightmare the other night, very worrying and of terrible content, populated by fell spirits of diverse sort, which naught but terror in decent minds could bring,
I saw the most dreadful of the images before me,
Appalled I stood while a white-marble city was dying and agonising in flames and sheer chaos,
A white tree was burning in the heat of the horrible carnage and the creepy voices of Orcs seem to cherish that spectacle and at such murder rejoice, for the capital of Men was not anymore, and the Good had then lost its shield and for the inexorable defeat it was mournfully preparing.

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