Antique Lyrics of Arda

[Walküre]

Valiant champion thou art and all fear thy sword


It was decreed that upon the halls of Eä thou wouldst descend,
For thy kindred fellows thee needed and fell deeds they were to avenge,
Among the mighty Archangels thou art counted, Tulkas the Valiant, to contest the ancient evil and relentless foes to fight,
Foes thou hast in grand number, yet never wilt thou flee the battlefield, as law thou shalt ensure and protect our right.

[Walküre]

Grand thou art and all to thee is owed


Grand thou art and all to thee is owed,
Glorious monarch of the Star-realm and resistant to time which hitherto much hath flowed,
Thou art to endeavour for a lost and impious cause, as Men now seem to yearn the endless life, forgetting the agony for which we have fought and mourned,
Thou hast been swayed by bogus parlance; a priest, or whatever he hath himself proclaimed, who truly knoweth whither thou shalt end thy voyage in tears and havoc for all.

[Walküre]

What say you?


Fell ghouls of traitorous sort,
What say you?
The imperative oath of allegiance you had elected to break,
Marred and cursed by the king, you rested with your choice,
From the trust of mortals you have parted in shame, one-time auxiliaries of a greater power,
Look at yourselves, dim figures of who you once were, don't you crave the mending of your sins?
There is the chance to make the wrong right again,
If sympathy you still have for the strife of the past ally, and then you shall depart from your eerie dwellings carved in the bewitched stone of the mountain, for in the mightiest contest of this age you must partake.

[Walküre]

They are phantoms of ghostly guise

Strangers and whatsoever pilgrim are strongly invited to keep distance from those woods of which arcane memories the people of the cold heath have. A millennium of silence, as it is told by the oldest wise men of Rohan, at the dawn of the foundation of the very kingdom under the Horse-lords' rule. Elven ghosts are said to tread those mysterious ways that apt to common peasants are certainly not; particularly from the establishment of a new realm within those golden forests. You might know the tale. A sorceress of prodigious nature reigns over wood, water and stone, and to her those Elves are ever-loyal and falter they shall not, as it seems plain to grasp. Have you noticed how everything fares there? No stormy weather or menacing cloud darken those heavens, nor is the sun made weaker or less radiant than it usually shines. It is sorcery indeed and we profoundly wonder whether an opposing host could make its way into the heart of the woods, in which we believe that the seat of such enormous might resides.

[Walküre]

Merry Tune


Aye, a merry tune I shall fain sing,
I shall fly above clouds and laborious people, as a fair bird of rapid wing,
The Shire, thither we moved and in jubilation there we currently dwell,
Land of joyful chanting, albeit secluded as some say, yet our buoyant life any spirited one shall suit well.

[Walküre]

Thy might is rendered useless


Fellow wizard, the wisest you were deemed by all, and the shores of this world as first voyager of hope you had reached. May you recall? A harbinger of redemption and trust; this you were supposed to represent. Versed in speech and in anything concerning the arts of metal that are to you much dear. Too bad, that your duty you made a horrible nightmare, for dominance you longed for and ready to obtain it at all costs you were indeed. I sense no regret in you and this is to make the punishment graver, I fear. Once the mission is finally achieved, you will follow in the footsteps of whom endangered the fate of Arda in equal manner. You shall thus walk the path of desperation and utter rejection, unto the breaking of the very earth. Piety and sham redeeming words will not avail your case, hopeless and forlorn. To the bar of history you have been brought and the final sentence is clear as the purest waters you tried to stain.

Saruman, hearken to me, you don't deserve the title you were originally given, as spirit of noble nature. The chief of your order condemns you for such shameful deeds. Thy might is rendered useless and your precious staff asunder is to be torn. Be it just trial and consequence for thee, traitor of light.

[Walküre]

Death, on rapid wings


Should the lost artefact be found anew,
Woes to all and to those resilient to subdue,
Death shall be spread, implacable and swift, across the shires to mortality used,
Lest ruins only we are to defend, under the radiance of our warm Sun and luminescent Moon, which enlighten lands that by the iron fist of the Orcs would never fain be ruled.

[Walküre]

Hidden roots of lost memory


Much was lost and even now we lose, suffering in the tumultuous thread of time that seems without grace,
Common destiny for each kingdom, land or race,
They murmur that in the mines of Moria great testimony of the past just waits to be unearthed,
Yet, we knew amidst fear and doubt, digging might bode ill for whom years the kernel, deep and by doom cursed.

[Walküre]

VARDA

A collection of lyrics

Thou mayest and always canst


Void and darkness thou makest bright,
As the wrong by thy sanctity is made right,
For the Good thou dost what is just the most,
Beside the King of Arda thou art the Queen and lone never thou wast.

There is naught for thee that is limit, for thou mayest and always canst.

[Walküre]

Them lit thou madest


Lit and blessed, secure and safe, behind your mighty wall,
Ye, Valar, your ever-green shire the noblest realm have made,
Thanks to the Two Trees, fashioned by nature, watered by grief and with radiance endowed,
Thou, indeed, Queen of Arda, them lit with thy force thou madest.


The Two Trees of Valinórë, subject of many legends and recurrent theme of loss in the tales of old, were given life and beginning by the deeds of the three mightiest Queens among the Archangels: Yavanna sang at the presence of all Valar, gathered in the immense fields of the plain of the Blessed Realm, and thus gave concrete shape to her divine thoughts; the shape of two colossal trees. Nienna mourned for the somber fate which had thitherto befallen and which would have yet to pass, allowing such creation to be nourished by her pure tears, made of grief and of hopeful resilience in the halls of Arda. It was then Varda who gifted her nature to the Trees. Light, the highest of the elements and sole physical remnant of the Timeless Halls. Ancestral dimensions, from whence the Valar themselves had had origin and had sung together the melody of the grand Music. Light is the only vivid testament of that arcane past, that none but the Ainur may fathom or recall.

[Walküre]

Ever-green and golden


All souls of the forest rejoice and merry are made, and never do the dwellers of Lórien lack songs to sing,
Heavens retain light and radiance even in the worst adversity, for no fell wind will ever darken those ways or render them withered, when the Lady is in government and all calms with her Ring,
Golden routes under the trees, warm and lively as life which doesn't want to fade,
Sad fate is verily ahead of those sacred woodland inhabitants, for any art made by Elven hands shall inevitably meet decay, in akin manner to how the Firstborns to some of their labours farewell often bade.

[Walküre]

To strive, to seek, to search, and never to yield


How could one be brave enough to partake in a quest and return richer in knowledge, wisdom and precious experience? It's not everyday that one is offered the chance and everyday ones are possibly likely to deny, for hazard is equally present when you are to seize the opportunity of your own life. It is not to know whither we are voyaging and via which way, and so the willing traveller might need rely on his wit and find answers alone. And one ought truly to remember, in utmost dedication and contemplation too, that treasures are seldom presented for free and along gentle paths, and who may assure you that foes and foul minions you are not to battle? Precious things are for the most buried and wrapped in the arcane mystery, waiting for the curious mind that could unveil their wonderful being. Imperative, aye, imperative it is that one be keen enough to strive, to seek and search, and never to yield. Only through labouring and enquiry can you dig deeply and pierce the hardest wall. Determined, resolute, stout and staunch.

[Walküre]

The obligated path


It would be a magnanimous gesture to entrust a mission to someone else's hands, yet honour of ours must in no case wane,
Can you recall? A queen, on the route of definitive demise, decided to stand up and the walls of the Eerie Fortress laid bare, prior to her return whither her true dwelling had always lain,
Cease your excuses and vain parlance, this world knows naught to do with people who wail,
We shall endeavour to prove the spirit we are made of and so for our shires we shall be of much avail.

[Walküre]

She weepeth


She weepeth, yet not in vain,
Grief hath too dwelling in the Powers' domain,
Her fate is beside forbidden seas, where always she hath lain,
To the fallen ones hope she giveth, lest souls see endless mourning and eventually wane.

[Walküre]

Betwixt war and ruin


Betwixt war and much ruin we find ourselves,
Appalling the spectacle, we never beheld anything of its grievous ilk,
Verily, thou hast much to lose and weep for,
It doth stir fear and terror within thy tender heart,
I know, fond of the comfort of thy home thou art,
And nostalgia for the warm hearth there is in equal manner,
Flames and iron shall reach all which one loveth and careth for,
Thou knewest not, my dear friend, and sawest not shadows renewing their strength and becoming vital again, in the far shires of the East, uncanny and hostile.