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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
Sayings of Stars (III)


Guardian of hope, Star-kindler,
Thou hast lit what was void, space-wanderer,
May thy wrath rage as loud waters, furious wind,
To sweep and blow away the enemy, foul and fiend.

Thou wast there, in distances far and wide,
Across the empty halls, amidst the sidereal tide,
Queen of Evergreen Fields, eternal and fine,
Fair as diamonds, holiness of thine.

Walküre:
What happened to the great North?


Northwards would the voyager head,
At the dawn of our story,
When these paths were not enough green,
Not joyful as they are today,
Murmurs still reach one's ear,
About a grand kingdom,
Northernmost end,
Solid walls, hard stone and royal gentry,
So akin to the tall ones of our age,
Men of honour and deed, this we are told.

Alien to the merry gardeners,
And to buoyant farmers too,
Sedition spread as a festering disease,
The same malaise that pesters plants and pets,
Poison for the gentle mind,
A shadow was anew born,
Among thick ice and fiend beasts,
Angry and scheming revenge,
Against the fine kind of Men,
Gathering wicked magic and trouble.

Aye, the things that make one be late,
That make the laborious Hobbit miss his meal,
That make us worry much,
Though we went past such evils,
I may say, love,
For so distant are we,
From those events,
Memory of a past we might do without,
Pain we like not,
Tragedy which saddens the party.

Dear, I ought to continue the tale,
To tell the ending of the war,
That broke out soon,
As the realm asunder was torn,
By envy, greed and vicious thought,
And the door was thus left open,
For a nightmare to come and seize the land,
Rule of terror and sinister arts,
Of which only ruins remain,
And noble guards became rangers, used to woodland life.

Walküre:
Awaiting fate


Awaiting fate,
Keeping the haven, on the shore,
Resolute to staunchly wait,
Very old, master of lore.

Legend of the sea, without fear,
He gazes yonder, place of good and reason,
Close to the western edge, much near,
Immense knowledge, immune to treason.

Walküre:
Tenson of death and misery


Among the fables of the Elder Days,
There is one, recalled in sorrow,
When light and darkness battled each other, in grander fashion,
During the major quest of all eras,
Of the Two Lovers, heroes of those times,
Confronting the ruthless yoke,
That chained and choked the earth,
Mission of doom, destined to be,
Which changed the course of things,
For everyone, everywhere.

A company of valorous ones,
Whose leader immortal was,
Not a mere member, to be fair,
Yet, one of the exiled court,
Wise son of a king, ruling over undying soil,
Skills beyond reckon and knowledge of ancient sort,
A very prince of glory,
Who equally partook in the tale,
Because he had promised, to come to the hero's aid,
Whenever harm was done.

Alas, my brave companions,
Trapped and caught you were,
Brought before an evil lord,
Cruel and foul sorcerer,
Commanding hungry wolves and bloody wings,
Fangs, claws and dreadful ghouls,
Versed in the control of demons,
Devilish servant of the Iron Throne,
Cursed and hated,
Keeper of hopeless gaols.

But goodness was not to surrender,
Not lightly, at least,
And so the prince asked for justice to be made,
Challenging the thrall-master of the eerie castle,
In a contest of rhymes and spells,
To crown the winner of that deed,
The fair Elf started and sang prodigious words,
Regarding the marvel of Arda, its water, stone, sky and woods,
Then, it was the turn of the night, chanting the wounds and ruin of the world,
Until the foe spoke of the slain brethren, at the Havens of Swans, stained with kindred Elven blood, so that the radiant prince fell and his dark adversary won.

Walküre:
Night, renew the day and evil wash away


Night, often mistreated and feared, as a token of hell, as a token of desperation that swiftly comes and hardly leaves one's heart, in the guise of a veil which anything may conceal and make evanescent,
Vanishing as a soul ready to part from the halls of daily existence, bound to voyage across time and infinite space, whither we do not know and ignore,
Absence of light, looming over the regions of Arda, and folks speak much and bad about the arrival of her touch, gentle yet dreary,
Of the night, deemed desolate signal of shadows, that gives monstrous creatures force and bolder intent to pursue evil in the world,
That is sham parlance, though, for things shall fare as they always have done, since the dawn of modern times, being the perennial cycle a natural law, will of those who sit on diamond thrones,
Prior the Elder Days, all used to dwell under her sombre wings, for radiance was a privilege of the Immortals within their glad continent, in which wonders were made,
In which beauty died not and lasted, like a flower, ever-green and vivid, shielded from ruin and sad demise,
Until the order was broken and marred, so that two other lamps were raised in the vast sky, for every land to enjoy and bath in sunlight,
But merry brightness was not to be forever, in that the bearer of such flame had to rest and recover her strength, passing through the heavens of Aman, down beyond forbidden waters, while another Angel carried a feebler flare, quiet and colder, yet apt to kindle hope in those who had lost it,
The Queen of Stars had nonetheless placed her craft along the void of emptiness, remote and not reachable, to let her might shine always and in spite of other snares, endless and never-faltering, rendering night what renews the day and anything foul washes away.

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