Edain 4.7.2 veröffentlicht! / Edain 4.7.2 released!
Who knew that the wizard would dare so much?Farms choked and wheat died, poisoned by his tainting touch,Laying waste to the proud cold heath,Common dwellers of the land, used to lore and myth.The perpetrator shall atone his sins with blood,He who ordered havoc, massacre and threw our lifeless finest into the mud,He who rouses tempest and fell bolt,To avenge heinous crimes and the grave fault.
His beloved half, his glaring sun,For whom ever good he had done,A lifetime company beside the Elven lord,Going past years of either joy or sword,An Elf-maiden with golden locks of the rarest beauty,As his love served their king to fulfil the duty,In the Third Age they happy abode in the secure Valley,Raising their gracious kin and living wholly,Until misadventure drew close and severed the bond,Parting the unlucky princess from this grey shore, heading far and yond.
Crystalline as ever-pure,Thou wilt never cease to endure,To face dark and horrid test,Sovereign of what findeth itself abreast.Across thousands of thousands of years,We shall bear thy love and dread no fears,Unto the hour of ending demise,When all is revealed and the dead arise.
Wood phantoms walk that old path,The western road amidst green, so strange and rough,Ghosts chanting and singing the blue of this earth,Slow yet incessant is the pace of this grey lot, as it passes and goes forth.
Thus speak the water, the vibrant wood and the clear sky,Whispering plain truth and not lie,As nights get grimmer, likewise our shire,When the secret is unveiled, only told by fire.
Rapid rides the grey guard,Against any odd and hazard,He must consult with his higher fellow,Response he needs, malice advances from all pits hollow,The mage-chief will perhaps tell,How malaise spread so wide, why the world is not well,How we may counter the unrest awoken,For these clouds sole troubles seem to betoken,What if the wiser did not know?What if he weren't ally, but rather foe?
Not mere words, but silent speech,Thoughts of holy which akin minds reach,Thy very supreme kind,Keepers of Arda who all fates bind.Thou so speakest without error,To decree what ought to be and release the pious from terror,Holding thee dear,Cleansing ghosts from smear.
Bilbo left, bent by time,Nought else but travel, wood walk and mountain climb,'Tis how he spent his life, regarding not dishonest neighbours or annoying post,He found solace, for his sake, in the dreamy mansion of a pointy-eared host.
Cursed wizard, may you perish worst,You who have slithered inside our conscience first,As the witless worm which ever is vilified,The whole country you've shattered and mortified.Squires fled from farms, plundered and ablaze,Nor could they bid farewell with a last gaze,Wandering now hopeless, craving home and food,While the valiant knight is robbed of his licence to shield our good.
Bowman, stay your arm,The keep is in peril, sound the alarm!Hostile ranks are coming, to ravage wealth and victims reap,We need the surest aim and firmest grip!Be the dart well-fired!Near the neck, under the helmet, where the foe is not wired,Then shall you spear iron and cloth,To show your veritable strength and laudable worth.
Those who know thee not,Villain folks, a rowdy eastern lot,Ignorant of the Powers dwelling west,Abiding poor in mud-shacks, thus doubtful they rest.Notwithstanding, all gaze at the starred blue,As the scorching lamp goeth far and biddeth adieu,Even the lesser man shall question and wonder,Who made that brightness, immortalised in such sidereal meander.
The gentle asked once by grace,"Whither doth the northern path lead?"Answered was he, while dimmer got my face,"Fell shires, where wolves off flesh fain feed."Indeed, the simpleton should not dabbled in that way,Colder, fouler in the past,What common tongues say,When winter would come sudden and fast.
Hold your feet and dread not the sword!Foes shall not falter nor utter a peaceful word,Be your hand secure and strong,For the White Hand extends its reach, ever-cruel and long.Shields and blades make up for the hardest wall,Safer than even stone, to repel devils and escape thrall,An endlessly fearless stand,Which enemies keeps at bay and off fend.
Three grand heroes of this much grievous tale,Who never turn their coat or in vain wail,Three agile hunters, off a foray in the wild,Swift they move through the heath, albeit silent and mild,A pack of fiends is their yearned prey,Sleeping rough under the pale moon, where a glorious kingdom lay,Pray, their deeds shall maybe wake a dormant will,Weary and sour, bewitched and still,Behold, they now enter that perilous wood,A great white epiphany will shake their hope-seeking mood.
As sole radiant star we bethink of thee,The only consoling figure one may see,When all getteth grim and pale,In the shadow, even the gentle might stray away and fail.Glaring sun, rising in the East,Magnificent dawn, driving off gloomy mist,Pilgrim, if thou be'st true and fine,Shalt thou not succumb to any fear of thine.