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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
This inspiration in me


Now shall I tell the foremost cause of my lyrics and verses,
Is there anything on earth that replenishes one's spirit so well?
To sing and narrate what was, is and is maybe to be,
The pages of a blank book which need be read and surely have something to teach.

Aye, my gentle reader, we are all pupils of written words and wit,
Seldom may we be content with lack of knowledge, stories, heroes and valiant kings,
What if we knew that our part in the tale is yet to be made plain and sure?
What about us wanting to partake in the splendour of poetry and in the very wonders that are, to your heart, to be disclosed?

Kind minds and kindred friends,
Words shall still flow and flow impetuous as the old lays of a passed present,
Epic novels which ever let down or fail to amaze,
Nay, I will not part from my duty and sacred obligation to you all.

Folks, ye know the good and the bad, honour and malice, glory and grief, and I shall give you what to you is justly owed: valiant knights, mighty ladies, foul shadows and sundering seas that to never-ending life lead.

Walküre:
Fog of doom


Borne through the skies of a war-torn kingdom, weary and old,
Via the ways of the ether vicious clouds go,
The shadow of the Dark Lord casting its menace on all that is bright, free and bold,
His minions hate sunlight and any kind of warm gleams that is to us known.

Pray, may those who keep the bequeathed legacy resist, for the only shield they are of this unfortunate world.

Walküre:
In perpetuity, unto the ending of love


How long the guarding of the Archangels will last,
This is not to be fathomed, yet ever has it been so in the past,
Some say that their vigilance is to wane in time, beyond recognition and multiple measures of an age,
Unto the ending of love, when all to the final breaking shall be close, as the exiled in the Void returns and Arda hears of its holy Guardians the rage.

Walküre:
Let me go, I beg, for none any longer me here bind shall


Let me go, father. I am not to tread the path you have divined for me. A path of endless love and joy in the shires of the Powers, where naught is made to wither or die. Away from the sorrows and many troubles of this grey world; away from war and strife. Away from the closing of the era. You deem it just to sway me towards the choice of your caring heart and infinite gentleness along the many chapters of our common lore. You regard it as the finest prospect and you are right, in truth. It is the western realm that all Elves calls and to which all immortals are drawn; the finest shelter, indeed.

Father, it is not a fate mine. Thither I could head to and my love, there, untainted will rest. Ever-present and vivid will be the memory of what my electing has caused me to renounce. If I let it go now, I shall regret it throughout all the long ages of this world. Reminiscence that is to drain my soul and my spirit to wear off.

Love is a flame that burns. It burns, yet one makes lit, rendering one's life complete and fulfilled, even if it's burdened by mortality and by evil smeared. You might take love and embalm it in paradise, as a treasure; memory, never marred nor dim. But a memory it shall remain, in the guise of whom beholds the most splendid portrait, craving to experience and live those epic deeds of old, although such a wish is kept safe in one's dreams, meant to be recalled and not to be lived.

Walküre:
None whom I have hitherto seen


Who art thou, little thing?
Short as an Orc and slender as none I have hitherto seen,
Is this a trick of the White Wizard? A snare or scheme?
He was fair, once, and very wise, yet now he walketh the path of doom and from his mansion emerge always ash and wicked fumes.

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