Edain 4.7.2 veröffentlicht! / Edain 4.7.2 released!
Ill-spoken, unto their very final day,So little an edge from which to stray,The fate of who dared lay sword against kindred ones,The potent House of smiths and princes, bringing yonder pride and lance.Cursed by decree of the Angel of Grimness,Reigning over the path of regret and sadness,Thence, the sorrowful Noldor through grief and havoc would meander,As it was thus foretold, before the two continents were torn asunder.Aye, a tragedy of elder ages,Lyrics kept alive by none but sages,Sagas telling a world that is no more,Full of wonder without akin rival, which the robes of majesty once wore.I beseech, make it that the tale shall reach the ghosts who wait,Lingering for judgement at the end's gate,Suffering the dominion of the absolute law,There, even the fault-ridden may redeem, as do the hopeless and the foe.
I would it were easy to utter the proper word,To tell the wonders lying above, realm of the Lady and the Lord,To say how grand the ethereal blue getteth, upon this our world,Peradventure, I might fancy the sound of hymns, which make celestial circles resound clearer by tenfold.How the Elf-minstrel shall unto oblivion sing,So shall I in same will, rejoicing at the many lamps of thy magnificent sky-ring,Nought of thine will truly sink in the abyss of doubt,For always is someone who fearless thee and thy oeuvres to the globe will shout.
So much for the tasks of the far!Here would I rather stay,Lest one my fair solace mar,Swaying the simple towards so worse a way.Boredom and stillness I shall promptly retain,Foreign annoyance will I never miss,Secure wisdom and ditch the vain,Honouring my fine ordinary day of peace.
Nay, the wilful explorer shall never grasp the ancient North,All wounds inflicted, as darkness first came forth,For the ruinous destiny of a golden past,Whose trace rests entombed in icy wastes whither even the nasty would not be cast.
Maidens of the heath have since learnt to take up a blade,Wielding defence before an enemy that much grief on us has laid,An unwanted acquaintance, war, which none seems to spare,A chilling kiss of death, ere afar we are to fare.Maid of amiable heart,Hold your ground, bearing heavy sword or snide dart,One day, your gracious hay-locks shall warm the field again,While earth rewards the daunting labour of your loved weary man.
Farther, unto the end,Hither will I my thought send,Whither not to worldly chains I am bound,Beyond dream and pain by which the earth is wound.In such manner I shall not regret,Invoking thy name as though in stone it were set,The morrow's dawn is to break the night veil soon,Until light fadeth again for a new moon.
Known wide and broad,That tale of Bilbo, told in serious mode,Three brute ones caught him, boding the worst,When all in statues were turned, as the first aurora burst.
In green lies her tomb,Hope she had borne in her womb,Last bright ray of faith in creeping darkness,Feeble, yet hard to wane before such sort of evilness.Within the merry Valley she then found refuge,Beside the wisdom of the Firstborns and spring's hues,Blazing winds of war shall have swift blown,Ere the lost king sits on his rightful throne.
Fine olden dagger,Another time you served the Good,Drawn in war by the humble, at one's eyes only beggar,So valiant the carrying hand, so loyal a mood.Forged amidst gloom and ice,Years that all must recall, I beseech,Fate had cast its sour dice,Hence came this ancient blade, lethal and piercing any wicked witch.
No Vala had part in their making,None within Eä could mean for them wrecking or faking,Not even the author could craft splendour twice,Not the finest hammer of paradise, nor the High Ones without vice.Three stones of hallowed spirit,Deed of deeds, legendary merit,Those thou hast blessed, lest one vile might spoil,What lit shall have thenceforward shone, against ill fate and toil.
That fey grey beard!Shall we spot again his pointy hat which many once feared?Old man, clothed in poor guise,Tales speak of a wizard and much wise.Weird traveller of far ways,Fast and firm upon his steed, journeying through Arda's maze,He often brings some tricks and trinkets to charm our simple lot,While magic is the surest thing we want not.
The legitimate king will return, one day,To the stone and throne devoured by fire, as does heat with dry hay,A terrible doom with claws and massive wings,Little could the knowledge of Dwarves do, neither their fabled Seven Rings.Now rests the mountain lone and still,As the cruel guardian slumbers therein,All that's left of the keep's guards is despair beyond measure,Deep down, where madness hid gold and a grand treasure.
Broad rage and furious storm,Furore of nature, terrifying both eagle and witless worm,Appalling visage of a world that wails in chains,So long as the White Wizard utters impious commands and goodwill feigns.
Sat together with thy holy kind,To command future and the evil doer to wind,In miserable shackles and shame,Victim of nought else but his very fame.Three ages, in the underworld prison,Decree of justice and reason,Before your thrones begged he mercy and pardon,None ye gave, Lords of the Lit Earldom.
What else but a merry birthday fest?For a hundred-year one of us,Who never seems to seek peace or rest,For a lot he always strives and does.A jolly party for all to enjoy,For any fond lad and mate,Food, beer, cheerful and toy,Though the old Hobbit has been quite queer of late...