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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
Lesser robes, yet gem of heaven


You and your akin souls,
Who dwell behind divine walls,
It was different, at the dawn of time,
The Angels were all light, original essence and prime.

Then, time was up for the coming to Arda,
Whither you too went, Varda,
To tread those ways of matter, yourself you have clothed,
With lesser robes, yet gem of heaven, of which wonders we composed.

Walküre:
Last lament


Departing the soul from flesh that dies not,
Which by blade is nonetheless wounded,
Sad Elf, you shall enter the halls of the Judge, where you are to wander a lot,
Lord of the sorrowful spirits, those grey shires he founded.

Though, may dismay not fill your heart,
For via thinking and waiting, to a sunny country you will rise,
A new existence of never-ending bliss, new life to start,
Until then, our last lament we sing for the Queen of the Stars and in your divine conscience the prayer lies.

Walküre:
Snakes and other troubles


''See you? I told you it wasn't good reason to make to that land, wild and sour. There is little to visit and even less to admire. A forsaken field of regret and miserable thoughts; and innocent ones, left without proper shield or blade to wield. What will happen to those unattended regions, should ill befall and we do see clouds advancing? Perilous ways to journey through and stay in as well, if one either wishes to pay the Golden Hall of knights homage and friendly greetings, or simply sojourn there for a while, being the route a tiny fraction of the entire travelling. And we're also told how the passage is sometimes barred; or, the most vicious beings hide in that realm, taking advantage of the feeble king.
What if it were the action of spells? Those who charm brave Men and turn them into useful tools...''

''Well, gallant spear of Gondor, you might be saying the truth, indeed. The glory of Horse Lords appear diminished and wailing, crying a desperate request of help. But too much we are busy with the fire being set at our border. Help them we may not, for now. Those chains of subjugation must be broken by them and them only. Only with the waking of their monarch shall they wake anew too, gazing at a changed world. A world in which judgement cannot be kept for oneself, because each of the free is asked to partake in the strife. And those troubles you hear of, they are vile snakes: ready to strike and halt your pace. That you have to care about, now that we still await the storm. Now that the skies are still sunny, albeit not for long.''

Walküre:
Remote, furthest, untainted


Remote, them thou hast lit,
At the dawn of time, with purest wit,
Lone, immersed in deep space,
Profound as thy crystal-eyes, and thy ever-radiant face.

Silent, they rest,
Furthest from Arda, as thou commandest,
In a remote infinity, sound from decay,
Untainted by venom, for the foe no wound may.

Walküre:
Bitter paradise


Kind ruler, magnanimous and a true saint in the darkening day, long have you served freedom and decency in the heat of the troubles occurring, for you know that time shall be up, one day, for doom to knock on the door of this age,
An age that is bound to end, as the others did in the preceding eras of Arda, because time concedes not, alas, and harmony is a luxury which seldom may last for innumerable decades,
There you were always, nonetheless, not often with a blade carried and firmly held in your hand, yet through the wisest advice and words of comfort, that never cause dismay and always give one the proper courage,
Many ignore that tragedy you have to undergo during your immortal existence along these ways, when your beloved half was tragically bound by the chains of captivity, so tight that salvation was not enough to wash away the stain, and so farewell you bade to your love, on the shore of the westernmost seas, and then you returned to your valley, shrine of science and solace, but also bitter paradise for whom left someone before the waves of the blue.

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