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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
We shall win through this


Shields may be shattered,
Walls may crumble apart,
Blades may rust and decay,
The tricks of the Enemy may cloud the judgement of our leaders and spread discord.

We shall win through this nonetheless, for there is no better shelter of courage than each one's resolution and will to withstand the worst which might befall, as we are honourable subjects of a glorious kingdom and not meaningless pawns.

Walküre:
Swift and lethal


Less wise they are and more dangerous,
May you be aware of the peril, should you tread that path,
Hidden they rest and on the alert remain,
One should not blame such secretive attitude and fierce defence, having them been used to harshness from the dawn of their age.

Long, wide and broad have they been patrolling those untrodden forests which are for most forgotten,
Their king moved his seat to the northernmost woods, at the coming of new wicked shadows in the world,
Now, they reside in halls carved and shaped into the stone,
Strangers they like not, and hostile acts or threats will be met by volleys of their darts, swift and lethal, of which they are renowned masters for sure.

Walküre:
The ending foretold


Voices had spoken of ominous signs, unbeknownst to the most, according to which ill our story was to turn,
At the end of the mighty alliance that closed the chapter of an age, in times buried and entombed deeply in the conscience of this continent,
The Enemy had been fended off from our merry lives of joy and honourable deeds, and content was everyone with the epilogue of such strenuous fight,
Solace was again and sunny days ahead of all were, if not for the calamitous choice of the human king, for the Evil was granted the disgraceful chance to linger still, and the silent menace crept out in truth from gloomy woods, by ghosts haunted, after much had been passed since the Tyrant's demise, to set wicked schemes in motion and prepare the ground for that ending, foretold by the wisest and feared as harbinger of cruel killing.

Walküre:
Raised to defend


The exile, worst wound of such parting was,
The Smith longed to seek retribution and went after the Foe, unto the sad shores of the mortal world,
Thy blessed domain just had to be preserved and guarded for good, not only from the enemy gaze, but also from whom the order of Valinórë had elected to disobey,
Thus, thou raisedst a girdle of magical isles in the midst of waves, covered by spells of concealment and sheer oblivion, for the door had to be shut for any labouring or suffering beyond the sea, and those very islands were not means to harm, as they were raised to hide and defend.

Walküre:
Murder, solitude and insane torture


Piety one could feel, and even anger, fear and profound dismay,
Buoyant dweller along the river he once was, until trapped he was by horrible chains and always in darkness thereafter he lay,
It began with murder and solitary exile, as his life too long for nature's laws was spanning and his very doing from human composure slowly turned into the one of a beast,
There, in caverns hidden under mines and reigns, his foul treasure consumed the sane remnants of his being, deep in dungeons of stone surrounded by mist.

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