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Antique Lyrics of Arda

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Walküre:
What lies beneath silence


We had not foreseen our realm crumbling,
Dim light and eerie mood, death came as the furious thunder rumbling,
Our grievous bell tolled, buried in the deep, in the guise of a fell drum,
Harbinger of mayhem, ruinous beacon for vicious scum,
Hell, drawn to the mines by endless greed,
Made worse, alas, for the gift of treason was accepted and to ill it was to lead,
Wanderer, you ought not to test hazard, be wary!
Do not gaze at the dreary void, terrible and scary,
Were you to pay homage to a tomb, don't linger or place a wreath,
Desperation and grievous silence are what verily lies beneath.

Walküre:
Sayings of Stars (VI)


Eternal white,
Just and right,
Atop the Holy Mountain,
Of light the sacred fountain.

Here, amidst perennial joy,
Splendour for each Elven maiden and boy,
We sing and chant,
Pure will, never bent.

Your majesty, forever,
Bond which we shall not sever,
No woe for going hither,
Where Angels are merry and naught is to wither.

In Aman, blessed by moon and sun,
Across which fine deers run,
And your Stars shine in the Void and such distance roam,
Reflecting on the broad sea, journeyed by the Riders of Foam.

Walküre:
That kind, immortal


Oh, love, what I would do for such a sight!
Silent pilgrims, pious and bright,
Incessant is their pace,
Composure of a king, noble face,
Weary they have grown of our world,
Their kind, immortal, which fate has contributed to mould,
They're leaving, now, towards white towers,
At the ends of all mortal routes, paths and green roads with flowers,
There shall they take a ship, away from who, where, when and what,
Rejoining their kindred souls, sailing to lands which die not.

Walküre:
Remote cults


Where are they, I wonder?
The two wizards, gone yonder,
At the edge of light,
Where sunrise glares in might.

Blue as the impetuous tide,
Of the sea, far and wide,
A mission they had to fulfil,
In honour and utmost goodwill.

To the East, in mystery wrapped,
They headed, bewildered and trapped,
By the customs of such lesser folk,
That common ones often dread or mock.

A mission they were entrusted,
Along those hazardous ways and iron rusted,
Too used to those remote cults, their duty they forsook,
Forgotten by men's tale, murmur and look.

Walküre:
Hither and thither (alternative version)


Hither and thither he goes,
The Grey Wizard, ever-lively as a crimson rose,
No menace he's to pose,
For he just aids the needing, as time rages and endlessly flows.


A crimson rose. A vivid hue of red...

A Ring of Power, borne in secrecy, which one's spirit kindles and hope spreads.

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