Antique Lyrics of Arda

[Walküre]

Necklace of stars


Gifted were the superb jewels of Aulë to the Queen of the sacred realm of the Powers, stainless and without woe,
A homage of immense magnitude, originated from the dauntless labouring of the mightiest Smith,
A necklace of pure diamond it was, but also carved into uncanny stone, which weather may not touch or cause to become dust,
Every gem was akin to her holy lamps in the night, and her inner radiance made them lit of ancestral beauty, nowhere to be found but at the sight of Varda Snow-white.

[Walküre]

Fulfilment of sworn duty


Just release of those caged in living death,
The worst curse one might stumble upon,
Ill consequence of crime, dishonour and impious conduct of the vilest nature,
Yet, the captives, the half-dead, found redemption in the hour of most stringent necessity, aiding their allies and avoiding tragic defeat, as they made for the deadliest foe the Evil had thitherto been bound to face, cancelling the past stain of infamy and treason that had been their unbearable prison.

[Walküre]

Visage of divine grace


Your thought is not to be fathomed by none else but the monarch who beside you sits on his godly throne,
Visage of miracle, whose sight the deepest hall of the outer space may with ease pierce, whither very few were bidden to voyage through as foremost task,
Complexion of the very resemblance of our starred heavens above all that is ether we breath,
Sanctity of old and even before, immortal and pure, naught has dared taint it and never shall the Evil lay hand on her prodigy, which is heart of light and giver of hope.

[Walküre]

Too much to mend

In the perspective of Sam.


Lady, my honest word is that by your mighty magic the One Ring ought to be borne,
For hatred is being spread fast and swift in this world, and war and ill judgements leave too much which need be mended,
Well, there's naught that might be heavy burden for the Elven Queen of the golden woods,
Anything wrong you shall make right and evil doing would be given just retribution for the case.

[Walküre]

Nice manners


The art of fine manners is treasure that is not for all to grasp,
Gentleness might melt hearts of iron and adamant temper,
Tender parlance sways minds and much is to yield,
At wit's end, when one's fate bodes ill,
Some are masters of solemn words of might,
Which they speak and so the secrets of the world command,
Words of power, yet terrible and lapidary as the bolt in the night,
Nice manners may conceal your real plan, instead, toying with an enemy of no usual comparison, that could either be creeping shadow in the pits of perilous mountains, a greedy serpent sat on gold or sheer madness of a brave king of old.

[Walküre]

Well-wishing sign that wanes not


We lost confidence and hope, once,
In the darkest night, by foulness populated,
Above, at the heavens immortal we turned our gaze,
We then beheld beauty that wanes not, resilient and piercing the fumes of the Black Land, past darkness, unto our very hearts.

[Walküre]

Gracious maiden, you shall live and go through this war


Gracious maiden of the heath, long you have suffered and cold winters withstood, stout and vigilant in the worst hour of mine, when I failed and my thoughts prey of the cunning wizard fell,
Awoken I was! Free to breathe air and to manage my kingdom as the true monarch would rightly do,
We have the chance to end evilness in this marred earth, and before the gates of the White City our doom shall be given plain shape,
Be the battle ill, you shall reign in my place, wise lady of Rohan, but certain I am that you shall live to see brighter days and pass through this war.

[Walküre]

Beloved and revered


Seldom has the Elf-kind so much loved one and in any case revered with the most pious awe a being of Arda,
Most loyal among the Children the Elves are, for higher rules they comprehend and feel theirs,
The imperative decree of the Ancient King they deem just and never-faltering,
Yet, they worship the Queen of Valinor in different manner, as she is hope itself which was made not to vanish, imperishable light that kindles halls of void since the very first dawn.

[Walküre]

Get back, fell wraith!


Away with you, fell wraith!
You and your foul mount shall pay grave toll,
Should you dare lay a hand on the wounded king,
Nor will riders withdraw their charge, for the armies of hell are to be stomped under glorious hooves and be disbanded astray and amok, rendering this realm of Men clear and free.

[Walküre]

Some wizard's pupil


Captain of Gondor, may your father's words be of no ill dismay for you, as though venomous envy and much grudge pronounced them indeed,
For I am sure that your father loves what you are and are destined to be,
No pale reflection you are of your glorious brother of buoyant spirit, lying your deep strength elsewhere than where it is normally found,
Your wit is keen and wise as the one of a regent of might, not just some wizard's pupil, and one may divine that your quality shall be in the epilogue of tales acknowledged for good.

[Walküre]

Wells of wonder


Drops of radiance would fall from the gigantic Trees of the old lays,
Not only would they gift the land of the Powers light and life, ever-mentioned and worthy of utmost praise,
Pieces of their gleams would even make the sacred soil, below, lit and enriched by the brightest pearls,
Collected in wells of purity beyond compare, unknown to other shires, reigns and worlds.

[Walküre]

Trumpets that awake the earth


Hither-Lands of sorrow exceeding measure,
Sick home, poisoned and so far from pleasure,
Victims, you who have borne the most terrible brunt, strong winds blow from whither the Sun goes to die and be renewed, carrying one who the wrong shall make right,
Herald of holy rule, bearing trumpets that the earth awake and the foul ones fly make, he's messenger of salvation and angel of might.

[Walküre]

Shards of a new dawn


Ruined is really not what meets the eye,
Nor lost, pray, for the sake of the loyal guard who still keeps the shadow at bay,
Those who speak of an ill fate, well, they speak of a hackneyed lie,
The shards of the blade shall be mended anew, to reforge the noble sword of old, borne by the sole hand which the tide of Men turn may.

[Walküre]

Tidings of good, for the king


I bear tidings of good in these one-time glorious halls, weary and made dim by spells,
Sanity is clouded and the royal wit wanders afar from light, I fear,
I come to free the rider-lord, away with deception and smear!
The horse shall come back to the proper stable, home of his power, willing to reclaim his own place in the world in which he boldly dwells.

[Walküre]

A pint of beer that helps one recall


Beer, it is not deemed ill along the green ways of the Shires, beloved country of the Hobbits,
Small people of gentle heart, used to solace and the mere joys of this tough life,
Much they labour during the long day of care, under the heat, heavy rain and facing the strong gusts of uncertain weather,
Yet, merry they always rest with the conducting of their living, for many gather in the lively tavern after much toil, where jocular words are spoken, songs are sung and beer is drunk to help one recall the daily tales of humble spirits.