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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
In here, holy light was collected


Admire this antique item that I hold in my hand, Ring-bearer,
I imagine that it is of a fashion unknown and alien to your wisdom of things,
It is a phial, crafted by my immortal kin and the foremost purpose it shall serve, as I foresaw,
In here, holy light was collected and made to aid the one suffering and giving in to toil, for it is memory of ancient tales, when that light descended from heavens and saved our common fate.

Walküre:
Shelters of fortitude


One-time populated shores lie now silent at the western ends of the continent,
The old might that ruled them has for the most faded away, for all changes rapidly and this world seems not to suffer what was meant to last for eternity,
Yet, authority has not departed completely from these desolate borders of ours,
A keeper keeps decaying havens still, waiting for the moment of final disclosure and maintaining those routes safe, for the ones who grew weary and long to take the vast course of the sea.

Walküre:
What witchcraft did


It is clear and evident to grasp and see, is it not?
A ghoulish monument that should warn and teach, in the guise of the tombs and graves of old,
And a grave for Men it has truly become, and a stain in our legacy of glory,
It is what witchcraft did to our fair stronghold under the Moon, replacing gallant subjects with demons of the most diverse uncanny sort, serving none else but the sorcerer of that deathly altar and his master who always vigilant rests within the heart of hell.

Walküre:
We are the masters of our story


Masters of our story we are and never should acts of valour be delegated to others, when it is our time to head out and fight,
You shall face the worse getting worst, twilight getting grimmer and turning into the darkest despair,
It depends on you and your temper, for adamant necessity requires you to be,
At the gates of doom you are to be summoned, gentle man, led by hope that has risen among us and grief, and this ray of light shall pierce all snares being thrown at our valiant ranks, being it a new dawn of the era awaiting the survivors of the war.

Walküre:
From the East


Dwarf-lords, you had your halls back and the past offence was avenged for the good, via iron and gore,
Retribution was then given and those gems, produced by your laborious hands, returned in possession of whom was their just keeper,
Yet, you ought not to sit on gold and deem yourselves safe behind such grand walls of stone,
War shall reach all and in every corner the wind of ruin is to blow, bringing peril to the doors of your domain, from those remote places in the mysterious East.

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