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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
Of no common lineage


She is of no common lineage, not of this age which grows bored and numb with love,
The only great immortal maiden who considerable difference does make,
Born in shires of holiness, across the vast sea, and she's testimony of a radiance before the very Sun and Moon,
As the Elven Queen of this era, she is regarded with such title of prowess, for by the name of the fairest and mightiest immortal, in this manner scholars and singers recall the legendary Princess of Kôr.

Walküre:
Through these shires I roam and wander


Free I am, and ever-content I feel to breathe the breeze of the open air,
Malice and the ashes of war have forsaken our lands, for now our lives we conduct in peace and serenity,
Those of the Loyals who served and strived, by the western authority a fertile island of joy they were gifted,
The dwellers of this one-time somber continent may be relieved, because menace has parted from here and the immortal race, the ones whose love for the halls of mortality was too great to do without, tells that the entire earth they might heal once again through the arcane arts in their possession, and I thus roam and wander hither, merry and confident in a fate finer and better.

Walküre:
A new age and antiquarian longings


After massive chaos and deep shattering of this world's pillars, we gaze at a new era, promising as we deem it and, hopefully, free and loose from the deadly chains of fear,
Because dread is harbinger of captivity for all decent souls of the earth, which are harmless and feeble, unable to resist and stoutly stand,
The First Enemy is gone for the good, we have been told, exiled and trapped in the prison of void and non-being, which is terrible fate for whom law tries to battle and useless render,
The ones who first were born, the immortal kind of the kindred of the mighty characters of the elder tales; they are to bring about the course of a newer story, and to set up the foundations of a purified continent they are well resolute in equal manner, although their spirit grew, we may say, antiquarian and much they yearn what they had in past ages forsaken, for the sake of their pure art and noble means.


Once the glorious yet somber First Age of Arda had eventually come to an end, the Elven kind was confident that new possibilities for redemption and magnificence were at hand. Most of the Eldar had been gently and strongly suggested to sail back to the Undying Lands, as the Valar had pardoned the perpetrators of the infamous kin-slaying and those who had taken the suffered path of sedition. And another fundamental fact was known by the divine intelligence of the westernmost lands: with Morgoth gone, the world could breathe a sigh of relief, but all the snares of the Evil and the poison that had been thitherto spread could not be erased completely from the annals of history. New menaces would later torment the people of the mortal ways; this the Regents of the World knew very well.

The majority of the Elves followed the advices of the Powers and returned to Eressëa, and then they were finally reunited with their relatives and friends within the realm of the Archangels. Some decided to remain in Middle-earth, though. Not for arrogance or negligence towards the opinion of the Valar, but because their love for the wild mortal world had grown too profound and ardent. There were some of them that had never dwelt in Aman in the first place; too hard would have been the parting from their beloved land. Those were the noble Noldor who elected to stay, in a continent full of ever-new chances of greatness and splendour, yet made dim by the constant uncertainty derived from the fear of evil forces. And these Elves and their superb arts grew antiquarian, for they started to perceive that Arda would rapidly change (prelude of the future dominion of Men) and thus longed to embalm the present as it was, halting the inexorable passing of time and its ill consequences. Their art was all about conservation and preservation; they hope to maintain what was created by their hands ever-young and untouched by decay. This was the prime issue in the mind of most Elves and a very insistent of a theme.

Therefore, some began to imagine an improbable scenario: that the world could be repaired and healed via their labours, to the point of recreating the forbidden bliss of the shires that lay beyond the seas. An impossible eventuality, but it's necessary that this be mentioned: many of them did not like the prospect of coming back to the immortal lands, for the Elven survivors of Middle-earth, amidst lesser Elves and Men, shone of a bright light of majesty and grandness. While, should they have returned to the West, they would have been at the bottom of the hierarchy, below the Maiar and the Kings and Queens whom the very Angels served. A pivotal theme in Tolkien's narration. Longings that would later be cunningly exploited by Sauron to sway the Elves towards his plans, as he did equally in regards of Númenor (even though the centre of the dispute was the yearning of immortality, in that case).

Walküre:
Whatever happened to the former one

A quite spirited composition, embellished by a humorous touch, telling the grievances of a few citizens of Gondor that weren't satisfied with the constant regime change after the arrival of the Stewards. It is also an occasion to reflect on the responsibility one has when power is given to him. There are people who abide to what they ought to do, whereas others flout their honourable task and betray the trust they had been generously given. A very relatable of a theme; not just for Middle-earth, probably...


Whatever happened to the past and former rule,
Whose tenure many crave and want to render secure,
The valour of old, much sung and throughout books told,
Ability to impose oneself and for each subject eventuality of gold,
This is how it should fare and fare well,
Aye, the diligent governs consensus and forever he shall,
Although prowess seldom comes without duties and the latter are surely of grand note,
Unless one is to be chastised for one's sins and to the bar of trial brought.

Former one, what is it that you do now? You had been given a mission plain and sure, yet you gave up your honour and stumbled upon the common contempt, of which you are much frightened, am I right? But fool is not who points at you in discrediting manner; you are, love, and to negative judgement you have to get used, for several in your hands their industry had entrusted, just to be laughed at and appallingly betrayed. And spare us your two-face wit, erstwhile ruler, because you are but a shame in a long lineage of glory. May you rejoice at your disgraceful confinement, for it is what befalls for your kind and the venom of your phoney advices we would fain hereafter do without. Thank you, former menace and mess, and be you well aware: you we remember and your sins despise as well.

Walküre:
Vastness of deadly kind


Scholars know where skies lie and in which oceans of ether stars were placed to make the world bright,
A vastness of air indeed, yet deadly for whom dares seek for adventure in those forbidden spaces,
Be it mortal or gifted with life that never ends, such infinity of desolation he is not to resist,
The Powers were the sole who in those obscure halls much laboured, and those very halls of night the Blessed Realm from Arda divide, because such was the command of the One and naught against its will may exist.

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