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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
At the council


At the council we were summoned,
Held in the merry valley,
Where the door remains shut,
For anything wicked or cursed,
Given the guard of its keeper,
Ever he battled the Evil,
As the fiercest of its enemies,
Kind lord, wise beyond measure,
Purest soul in a dirty world,
Lineage of legend preceding him.

Compelled by the events,
Every race advice needed,
Grave news they had to reveal,
The One Ring came to the light,
Borne by unusual hands,
Humble, though, and never eager,
To seek dominion of such power,
That all corrupts and none spares,
Grievous lesson from days before,
The Second Age, of the Alliance.

The Keeper of the shrine knew,
They had to undo such thing,
How could one's craft succeed,
In breaking such malice of old?
Naught of common forging,
No known weapon at hand,
Useless knowledge for the case,
The answer was easy to guess,
That cursed gold, omen of doom,
It would have ceased to be.

If in the fire it had been cast,
In the original chasm,
In the land of the ashes,
At the slopes of hell,
Before the throne of the Tyrant,
In which hope is caused to fade,
Terror of ancient memory,
Stain on a free continent,
The Black Land of Mordor,
Of which Sauron is fell emperor.

Thus, fate made it so,
That a Fellowship was born,
Guided by a tiny being,
Yet resilient as very few on earth,
Bearing the worst burden,
Alone, in the voyage, in the end,
Though some companions he had,
For the common and sole goal,
Sharp sword, rapid bow and an axe,
Fellowship of the Ring, we pray.

Walküre:
I'll be singing joyful chants


I'll be singing joyful chants,
When the wound is mended,
As war is made end,
When the bell of victory rings,
Finally, at the closure of things,
The Black Throne shall fall,
His black heart will be pierced,
From one side to another,
The menacing cloud is blown away,
The stronghold of Men is definitely safe.

Aye, the contest we won,
With sacrifice and grievous toll,
Caught by surprise,
The assault was massacre and horrible carnage,
Led by hatred and ruthless will,
To kill human hope and open the door to a new night,
This is not be, however, for triumph belongs to us,
Let us honour the dead and pray for courage,
Now, we should head to the top of the Sentinel City,
Where the White Rider shall crown our new king.

Walküre:
The One you mirror


One of the first,
Beloved by the most,
To come to the light,
In guise of grace and might.

Despised by the hopeless dark,
Contrast was ever stark,
Clothed with hallowed majesty, for the One you mirror,
Clear and pure, away from error.

Walküre:
Blazing breath


As the strongest wind, slashing the air,
Catastrophe, come out of his lair,
He seeks gold, the treasure inside the mountain-realm, whose gate is torn down by blazing breath,
Descending the skies, a dreadful dragon much havoc has wrought, willing to sow fire and reap death.

Walküre:
Maiden of woods and forests


Maiden of woods and forests,
Of the kin of Ñolofinwë the Valiant,
She rejoices at the wonders of nature,
Swift and rapid among the gardens of Aman,
Even more through the green of Oromë,
Where she would go for hunting,
With the company of her siblings,
Long bows and apt blades,
And from her family she wished not to part,
Electing exile and pain, suffering in the lands of grief.

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