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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
The finest hand wielding a blade


At the apex of the Holy Mountain,
Where the ruling thrones lie, pure fountain,
There is a servant residing there, emissary of law, finest hand wielding a blade,
Envoy of imperative decree, which naught may turn and each poisonous well bare has laid.

Walküre:
Together, one last time


Together, one last time,
We stand beside each other,
Unto the closing chapter, as fell rocks we climb,
In the comfort of our green dwelling we would fain be, rather.

Walküre:
Another quality


Captain, do not despair or seek the utmost praise of your faltering father,
He's not to know the troubles incoming in his kingdom,
And his kingdom is verily not, being him of the lineage of Stewards,
He should watch over lands and make the region secure,
His mind is absent for unfortunate fate, longing to chase improbable dreams of renewed might,
Now, when the shield begins to crack and give in to outer pressure,
Now, when a long tale just has to reach its definitive end,
When smoke we may see again from beyond those eerie mountains,
Something is again at work, for certain many are about it,
Your brother was sent for a mission of prime scope, but you shall be required to take up arms on behalf of your weary leader, and your own quality is another from common strength.

Walküre:
Across one's terror


You must journey whither your path will lead,
Young Hobbit, humblest hero, alien to pompous deed,
Beside your companions of gold, precious as that bright ore,
The perilous voyage that is set to mark the ending of old lore.

Be valiant, we beg,
Firm hand and swift leg,
The road ends in front of sheer horror,
Thither shall you go, across one's terror.

Walküre:
Vile laughter


At the heart of the ghoulish mount,
There lies dreadful death,
Which all dread and fear,
Which haunts anything that is near,
Remembrance of hatred,
Regret and dark grudge,
Stain on the honour,
That naught might sweep away,
But the blessing of the Heir,
Coming in haste, when the tide turns,
He seeks a forgotten oath,
And betrayed as well,
So that the unfaithful may redeem,
So that the Good may breathe a sigh of relief,
For of a host they are in need,
And a host does reside behind that wicked stone,
Yet one-time worthy of kingly trust,
It lies now silent and cursed,
Waiting for the proper time to undo the chains of the torture,
Their lord might fight for the just cause, accepting the offer with vile laughter.

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