Antique Lyrics of Arda

[Walküre]

This inspiration in me


Now shall I tell the foremost cause of my lyrics and verses,
Is there anything on earth that replenishes one's spirit so well?
To sing and narrate what was, is and is maybe to be,
The pages of a blank book which need be read and surely have something to teach.

Aye, my gentle reader, we are all pupils of written words and wit,
Seldom may we be content with lack of knowledge, stories, heroes and valiant kings,
What if we knew that our part in the tale is yet to be made plain and sure?
What about us wanting to partake in the splendour of poetry and in the very wonders that are, to your heart, to be disclosed?

Kind minds and kindred friends,
Words shall still flow and flow impetuous as the old lays of a passed present,
Epic novels which ever let down or fail to amaze,
Nay, I will not part from my duty and sacred obligation to you all.

Folks, ye know the good and the bad, honour and malice, glory and grief, and I shall give you what to you is justly owed: valiant knights, mighty ladies, foul shadows and sundering seas that to never-ending life lead.

[Walküre]

Fog of doom


Borne through the skies of a war-torn kingdom, weary and old,
Via the ways of the ether vicious clouds go,
The shadow of the Dark Lord casting its menace on all that is bright, free and bold,
His minions hate sunlight and any kind of warm gleams that is to us known.

Pray, may those who keep the bequeathed legacy resist, for the only shield they are of this unfortunate world.

[Walküre]

In perpetuity, unto the ending of love


How long the guarding of the Archangels will last,
This is not to be fathomed, yet ever has it been so in the past,
Some say that their vigilance is to wane in time, beyond recognition and multiple measures of an age,
Unto the ending of love, when all to the final breaking shall be close, as the exiled in the Void returns and Arda hears of its holy Guardians the rage.

[Walküre]

Let me go, I beg, for none any longer me here bind shall


Let me go, father. I am not to tread the path you have divined for me. A path of endless love and joy in the shires of the Powers, where naught is made to wither or die. Away from the sorrows and many troubles of this grey world; away from war and strife. Away from the closing of the era. You deem it just to sway me towards the choice of your caring heart and infinite gentleness along the many chapters of our common lore. You regard it as the finest prospect and you are right, in truth. It is the western realm that all Elves calls and to which all immortals are drawn; the finest shelter, indeed.

Father, it is not a fate mine. Thither I could head to and my love, there, untainted will rest. Ever-present and vivid will be the memory of what my electing has caused me to renounce. If I let it go now, I shall regret it throughout all the long ages of this world. Reminiscence that is to drain my soul and my spirit to wear off.

Love is a flame that burns. It burns, yet one makes lit, rendering one's life complete and fulfilled, even if it's burdened by mortality and by evil smeared. You might take love and embalm it in paradise, as a treasure; memory, never marred nor dim. But a memory it shall remain, in the guise of whom beholds the most splendid portrait, craving to experience and live those epic deeds of old, although such a wish is kept safe in one's dreams, meant to be recalled and not to be lived.

[Walküre]

None whom I have hitherto seen


Who art thou, little thing?
Short as an Orc and slender as none I have hitherto seen,
Is this a trick of the White Wizard? A snare or scheme?
He was fair, once, and very wise, yet now he walketh the path of doom and from his mansion emerge always ash and wicked fumes.

[Walküre]

Beacon of salvation, at last


Death borne through the sky,
The mount of the wraiths who do not live nor die,
Valiant knights of Gondor, no choice you had but flee,
The bane of Men would have haunted you unto stone and sea.

It was not to be grim or the hour of our demise,
Man, you need not despair, for hope has come and is to rise,
A vessel of endurance in this age of doubt,
The White Wizard carries the light of salvation for anyone free, who is open to give way to the saviour's clout.

[Walküre]

Warnings, still in the firmament


You were content in your holy domain, the Archangels together and their faithful people,
Alas, Middle-earth was in the clutches of the Evil and sinister shadows crept out from all over the broad continent that once was perfect and lit,
Light resided in the sole home of the Powers, nurtured and fed by the gleams of the Two Trees, in which the Ainur of Aman bathed in joy,
Queen of the Stars, never were you chill and cold towards the plight of your mortal realm, as you thus established in the firmament grand collections of lamps, eternal as your forbidden will and ever-vivid for whom foul thoughts was to serve.

[Walküre]

The green way


The green way across lands and kingdoms of old,
It shall lead one through arcane riddles, quests, dungeons or fortresses that many winters have beheld,
Within the guarded home of friends or the odious gates of foes,
Until you reach what you seek and yearn, before marble-made towers and walls which lost art had raised.

[Walküre]

A veil to cover, a helmet to disguise


It is my helmet, beasts without love,
Not of a mere soldier who nonetheless strives,
It is a lady of Rohan, in anger and wrathful,
Made sharp by sorrow, yet delicate, kind and good-hearted too.

The biggest mistake one would do,
To treat me lightly in the raw fight,
I am no ordinary man, but a maiden armed and apt for the task,
The helmet disguises me, yet gravest woe to you would be, should you doubt me and of my words the wit.

[Walküre]

Ever-determined to mend


Of resolve, never were you at a loss,
Your arts ruined and shattered, your splendid deeds made vain and caused to vanish,
You were not to lose hope, for our sake and the one of the earth,
Light shall not vanish and anything that was undone you have made anew, fairer and brighter, above and lone in the starred blue.

[Walküre]

Under the hill?


What lies under the hill, thief?
Who are you, who so much pleasure in playing me find?
Do you really think that I was not to know that other eyes would seek this treasure of old?
I will renounce naught and part from nothing of what stands under my feet!

This is gold of mine, thief in the shadow, and I have conquered it in the manner of the foulest menace, and I have torn down the great gate with my flaming breath, which all Dwarves know well and deem grievous death.

[Walküre]

I think not, at all


I think not, at all,
To behold the ruin of the world as a whole,
Albeit grief and loss, we also fight back and do not always mourn,
May you be ready to gaze at us, when swords are to be drawn.

Rows and lines of shields and blades,
Now shall they set the course of history in motion, our ends and fates,
For we love the clear truth and forswear the lie,
Wind, carry our pride swift and bolt-like, as we are willing to serve light and maybe die.

[Walküre]

We could not


We could not, we just could not do without your glory and might,
The radiance of the origin, guided by conscience that is ever-wise and right,
Nay, not without your power and vital force which all nourishes and makes grow, not without the sacred light,
Warmth that comforts and kindles, brightness, never pale, which any cloud pierces and not seldom salutes of birds the delicate flight.

[Walküre]

Master of iron, ore, jewel and stone


Blessed hands of thine, thou wast miracle and fountain of joy for all of thy kind,
A grand realm beneath the shadows of peaks of fog thou hast created,
Lit and home of splendour whose very soul in words may not be told,
Smith who dwelleth in legends, thou art so,
Sham was the advice that thy ears hearkened to, in goodwill and yearning of crafting,
Thy people knew much of the riddles entombed and into the earth concealed,
Ruled by the finest of craftsmen, master of iron, ore, jewel and stone,
Sorrowful divination read that those deeds their ruthless end would meet, one day, and it was then true and very exact of a tale, once the gruesome Lord broke the Smith's domain asunder, to get back of chaos the main flame.


'Flame' indicates the main cause of the havoc that spread afterwards. The wicked flame which had originated the entire dispute, destined to torment the ways of reality for centuries ahead still: the known and feared Rings of Power.

[Walküre]

Voyaging through empty spaces and horizons with no end


The Emperor of the blue finds much sport and pleasure, in the midst of his creatures beneath the sea and immersed in the water he so proudly commands,
The Smith labours without pause or rest, unto the completion of his work, when his very thoughts have shaped and fashioned even the hardest rock,
She, who gives fruit and grows golden wheat, treads the green paths of your reign, laughing at the intense Sun and gazing at the immense plain,
You, Queen of radiance, always set your eyes afar and unexplored distances stare at, yet not ever-still you remain, for the sole of your kind you are that may rise above the air of the sky, voyaging through empty spaces and horizons with no end, where you kindle your stars and that darkness lit you partly make.