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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
Two sides


A fierce war, waged to take back the item of malice,
Found in the depth of a pond,
The hands which picked it,
Now they resemble the gesture of feral beasts,
Indeed, of a pitiful captive, dragged into the path of a murderer,
The Tyrant longs for its ruling artefact,
So much sorrow it has hitherto brought,
And more it will still,
The Great Eye is never content,
Until all rests under his vicious thrall.

Two sides battle each other,
Summoning their finest,
Throwing their might into the heat of the fight,
Balance is broken, however,
Naught of the contest a wise one would deem fair,
Darkness gathers flames and ghoulish force,
Shadows creep out from ignorance and catch all by sudden surprise,
Light staggers and suffers,
Hope is doomed to perish, unless the chains of the past are undone,
And unknown powers are awoken anew, to the ruin of the evil foes.

Walküre:
Wit and craft


Wit and craft, he's the master,
Of industry and science, in his resourceful shelter,
Which is in truth a mighty mansion,
Safe from outer trouble and tension.

Noble he is deemed, for sure,
By powerful lords, in their realm wide and secure,
His mind is made of steel and motion, as the rapid machine,
Green he begins to loathe, wishing to make dishevelled all that is clear and clean.

Walküre:
Howl in the dark


May you hearken to such eerie noise?
Not of gracious beings, endowed with poise,
A howl in the dark, signalling threats incoming,
No surprise, as vicious lots we see through ruined spoils roaming.

Walküre:
This is Nenya, gift of the Stars

An address to the coming of the Fellowship inside the borders of Lórien, recited by a choir of minstrels.


Weary companions of valorous temper, we see your slow advancing to the heart of our kingdom under the branches of the golden forests, which all view as fairest than any other wood growing and living on this scattered earth. Your pace is burdened by grief, we may sense it; you lost the guide of your perilous journey and, alone, you fear the vain meandering in a senseless scope. Yet, you continued still and so should you for the rest of the quest, for the malice you bear is constantly fostering its strength, by the summoning of grand legions of death or the waking of past menaces which everyone thought were gone for the good. That doom is ever-pending upon our head, until a just conclusion will not have taken place.

We hope you shall find the rest of which you are desperately in need. Only, do not linger too much in the midst of our bliss, so that the reason of your doing might risk to be forgotten. You may not stay here for long, because we too have our woes to care about: conscious we are, regardless of the epilogue, that bound to bid farewell to our realm we shall eventually be. It is the fate which all Elves are ready to face, as long as the nightmare of this tale is ultimately vanquished, after millennia of unrest and unspeakable crimes, of which the Immortals always have memory.

These woods were charmed by spells and mighty prowess, under the rule of the finest Elf still treading the routes of this decaying world. Keeper of Nenya, gift of the Stars and treasure of old. Time it has rendered slow, unseen barriers raised and all agony within these borders erased.

Walküre:
Sword commanding storms


Blade of mine, avail my cause,
For the sake of the earth, lest it be withered rose,
The hour of clash hath come, after being bound by the mission to wander,
With thee I dread not fire nor devils from the past, for I command storms and rule over thunder.

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