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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
Devouring the youth of your kin


You should not have gazed,
Into the lost art,
Of sight which fares beyond,
Shared by kindred ones, of great power,
Into a trap you were lured,
Sad demise awaits you,
From the pinnacles of the City,
Your noble kin you have sent to certain death,
You care not, behind decaying marble,
You sneer at reason and winks at folly, devouring red which seems blood, of your unlucky lineage.

Walküre:
Saddened Eyes


Deeply saddened by such decision,
They were not to know via thinking or clear vision,
That unrest will stir trouble in the dwelling of gods, here,
Rendering friendly ties cold and bonds mere.

What will be of us, without joy?
Now that the Trees withered, killed by venom and deemed useless toy,
Our Noon is to rest in legendary tales, told by myth,
The Queen gazes at the parting convoy, reflecting in gloom, while the Vanyar of Aman begin the mourning of bliss and on dead spoils lay a golden wreath.

Walküre:
Woeful Vessels


Summoned with draconian command,
As the clash infuriates,
In the heat of the battle,
To the worsening of war,
They sail rapid and sure,
Confident that his rivals will soon fall,
Open the gate will be, for the plundering of wealth,
For the raiding of havens,
One last stab in the back,
And the sea to Corsairs is to belong.

They thought wrong, though,
Arrogant and foolish,
They knew not whither their path would lead,
Not to prosperous shores,
Neither to rich settlement nor to trading camp,
Three Heroes they met along the way,
Of whom one was of Men the remaining hope,
The Heir had made a solemn pact,
Phantoms of the underworld came out from wicked stone,
Dead hands and cursed blades, which were the last thing that Pirates saw.

Walküre:
Anger


Anger grows ever-deep,
Are you prepared for the leap?
Into the fury of war,
For the White Wizard has lit the fire of machinery and wood desires more.

Traitor, your act shall come back around,
To punish whom we are at the mercy of, once the old spirit strength has found,
Anger causes roots to move and the ground shatter,
Trees shall come for the head of the guilty, undoing every trick and tearing apart matter.

Walküre:
To the ocean


To the ocean it must have been carried, in the words of our chief, the mighty wizard who's always fond of learning more about forging and crafting, in laborious manners and industrious is his mind, made of steel and grand machines which he ever imagines, longing for clout that spreads and goes forth,
He took that fortress as home, a fortified residence in the middle of sunny fields and gracious rivers, and the murmurs tell the ancient story of such mansion, raised in glory in the hour of splendour for that western kind of High Men,
The White Wizard is much versed in their lore, fascinated by majesty, in awe before past potency and as bewitched as he himself bewitches wood and stone,
The arts of speech he likes in equal terms, finding pleasure in the incantation of minds and in spells so powerful, able to move the ether and make clouds rage.

He thinks that the evil token was carried away by the waves of the sea, ultimately, unto the external shore of our shires, of which very little is commonly known.

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