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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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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.

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