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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
White that never fades


Upon the peaks of those secretive bastions of might,
Adamant ramparts and eternal wall of the Good,
Atop this impenetrable shield lies white that never fades, on the major altitude of the earth, where dwell those who are ever-right,
White as your face and light, Queen, as imperishable star in the world and kindler of nobility for our requesting mood.

Walküre:
Do you pity him?


Do you pity him also? His tale is a sad one in the annals of modern times. A rare and terrible case, akin to very few others in our knowledge and remembrance of what once was. He was not much different from the people of your Shire, at the beginning of all. A merry existence along the course of the river; spirited chanting and fishing would fulfil his heart and make his mind serene, taking from life no more than the very life could offer indeed. And then we come to the passage of marring and somber descent into the obscure path: an old treasure was retrieved from the depth of a common pond, which differed not from other ones of kindred fashion, the likes of which we are very used to. It was thought to be a jewel of luck and prosperous fortune; it was not, alas.

That uncanny shape of gold was conquered with murder of the most vicious sort in the world, when human will fell captive of desire and friendship was made into naught. The horrible heirloom from the past had its own conscience that commanded its acts. A malicious nature and unknown one in equal terms. Time passed slow as an atrocious torture, exceeding what is the natural norm, until the very owner owned had been, bound to servitude and tied to the ruinous fate of the Ring.

Walküre:
Tides that need governing


Among the southern ways, embraced by the largest bay,
There waver waters wild that rage may,
Infested by pirates who spoil and raid,
Those are tides in need of government, whose power emanates from whom the first fortresses on the shore made.

Walküre:
Inaccessible ice


To the North, beyond the measure of mind,
Surfaces of ice, in space broad, far, hostile and of hazardous kind,
Here, perennial cold has always resided and forever it will rest still,
In no way shall your foot tread this path of death, lest buried you be in a grave of freezing chill.

Walküre:
Fly, thought of mine


Fly, thought of mine,
To all rejoicing and to whom in dark halls is to dine,
We shall fight another day,
Good luck will pave the just way.

With happy chanting our mourning is to mingle,
May memory the upset spirit kindle,
I send my deepest love to you, resting near the hearth,
In the famed words of old: be joyful now and give up the gloom, for good merriment is and doth.

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