Edain 4.7.2 veröffentlicht! / Edain 4.7.2 released!
Tell me the tale of the sage,Wandering thither where beasts roar,Traveller in old guise avoiding rageAnd all vicious broods which at night soar.Apt for a wizard is mild temper,Away from power and fame,Which are loathsome vile tempter;What often covet proud sire and vain dame.Treads the sorcerer far and wideWays of mystery and riddle,Attending dwarf-halls into the mountain side,Or the Elven court within the Lady's girdle.Another one glories in the pride of Men,Locked in his black tower,Wherein nought disturb can,Circled by tended meadow and flower.A lesser one resides amidst green and wild field,Aiding the dwellers of the thick wood,So queer for his magic guild,Making potions cheering mood.
I pray thee, my Lord,Nought cannot do thy wordAnd thy gaze commanding storms,Provider of good fortune or woeful swarms.I worship thee, sat on the heightOf the whole world, potent and might,Sire of winds, breeze and gale,Leader of clouds, to thy realm Immortals sail.King of Arda, sovereign of the Blessed Domain,Where none wither, decay nor wane,Within thy Evergreen Fields thou dostWonder and prodigy, being victor of evil by conquest and blast.I would I were to reachSuch merciful monarch, heavens I then beseech!Beside the highest PowerWhom all revere, who merry dwelleth atop the ever-white tower.Ruler of law and wisdom,Magnanimous regent in his hallowed kingdom,Saviour of Good, enforcing orderFor the earth of which thou wast moulder.
O splendid Noon,Marred and ended soon,O Two Trees of ancient light,Evil brought such horror-night.The Evergreen Fields were all brightWithin the merry country of those Lords of might;Behind the Wall, beheld Elves the holy flareOf hallowed deeds, sealed in ever-lasting glare.Immortal in memory, forever in mind to bear,When the high Powers offered shelter and care.Ere ruin the Lit Earldom befell,Laying bare sacred fountains of Varda's well.In harmony Immortals used to dwellAfore the coming of despair and hell,Whose bearer had allied with sleepless doom,A pit of monsters was her womb.Long she awaited in Aman, whither just gleams would loomAnd soar, albeit hidden land of dark and fume,Driven out were devils, as all portended bad,Wonder was struck by venom, alas, and thenceforth lay dead.
What stays covered shall be unveiledFor the sake of whole mankind,Whose losses we wailed,Letting sorrow enter mind.A riddle in the dark,Obscure, secret and starkAs mystery hidden in tales,Which folks attempt to tell and fail.Peradventure, the answer might lieWhere old papers they store and pile,A wanderer may come, whilst passing by,A foray into the past for short while.The unlucky king bequeathed wise wordTo those who battle the Dark Lord,Requiring advice and counselTo rescue the country of valiant knight and fair damsel.The key is vile cursed gold, so the sage has felt,Forged inside the realm of no green and meadow,Which common craft may not melt,But in the desolate Land of Shadow.
Down, in the depth of the world,Where flames burn and reside,Wherein rock gets bare and bald.Home to dark and wideAbysses and cave,Beneath the old mountain side.Woes their way into paveAnd then mourns the dwarf-lord;The glorious crown his people could not save.Stories of spear and sword,Armed with shield and bladeTo sing gallant epic and chord.Ill-fated, so was the mine to fadeAway from record, as rumour maze;Adieu to land and riche the sire bade.Shall Durin's son himself abase?For his stone-hard that sank in greedAnd welcomed dearly the grievous case.Off fire and ashes the short folks feed,Amidst suffering and grief;Evil will have sown another fell seed.Tragedy befell the lively green leafOf their lineage of yore,Seers told that triumph shall be an uncommon thief.Ravens shall again soarWhither all other birds head,Once the lonely kingdom returns as it was afore.Bards shall tell happy, instead of grim said,Rejoicing at good newsFor the honour of those lying lifeless dead.
Before the first dawn of light and star,Tale of past, riddled afarIn the memory of the Bright,Who once abode in fairness and might,There, where time is not,There, one primaeval clash was foughtAmong faithful and rebels,Betwixt high angels and foul devils.Thou sure knowest that Good was to prevailOver wicked fiends that ever are bound to fail.Potent Vala, who always just doth,Whose vile foes survive not his wrath,Pain and sorrows sparked the ancient battle,For grave treachery in peace they could not settle;For love and dear sake of the One's true will,Which ever giveth warm instead of deadly chill.The Sole Almighty whom none shall defy,Lest gracious wings be hewnAnd become fell claws beneath ghoulish night and moon,As upon Powers in Heaven was bestowed the right to rule,But as emissaries of radiance, and not deceiver of fool.
I am that I am,Dearest to theeAs to shepherd dear is lamb,Whom some not see.The Giver of lifeAnd pain mingled with strife;Yet, ill is equally planTo fight off foes and evil ban.Thou, hearken to holy words!The Powers ever speak just,Within the bliss of the Western LordsLieth fire which fiends shall crush into dust.Thou art to beg and praySo next ages of ruin not say,And at night shalt thou beholdHow Heavens are mightier thousandfold.
Upon the Crystal-Hill of valour and gemWhence just happy chants stem,Here lies a seat of power;Of heroes who filth ever scour.Kneel, you that came later!Bow, before the wise king, his lovely sons and golden daughter.The keeper of the towering belfry,Making music of truth and never of lie.Stairs and ways wreathed in dust,Of glittering jewel waking human lust,Though greed is not among the HighAnd amidst their serfs that swim and fly.A former ruler was father of all,Governing arts and disputes within the adamant wall;Unto the time of horrendous taskInto the Holy Shire, whitherto had not fallen dusk.An assembly was called,In which sires and ladies stood boldAgainst the sudden night,Foreshadowing bloody story and further plight.
Ahead of us once layThe wizard's fort and its grey way,Choked by vapour and fumes,On watching stars and reading runesThe white mage had grown so keen,Ere towards schemes his mind was to lean;When fine garden became putrid sight,Spent by venom and blight,As the guard turned into foeAnd plunged his merry dwelling such low.Accustomed to justness and beautyFor the reach of order and duty,The black pinnacle was then twisted for worseWithout some regret and remorse;Spells and curses to killThe gentle yeoman's will,And shroud the horse-shires with dreadThat to sheer folly would have led,If not for the coming of hopeWhich gave vigour to fight on open field and in fortified slope.
Too long have fields been trapped in slumberAnd all seemed quiet and far calmerThan harsh seasons and pending doom,But Rohan's fine youth rests now in flowered green tomb.The fence they took down and toreApart, and enemies not just woes bore,For a fiendish charm had made its wayTo the royal court in its greyest day.My king, glorious throne was then for you chainsThat ever bind the weak, left at the mercy of banes;Your mind bewitched as dreary cageAs the rogue wizard no-quarter war chose to wage.So villages burnt and criedDesperate help, while misfortune was soon to spread wide;Huts and shacks were fire's prey,Which flames feast on fain, during red-moon or pale ray.Horse-lord, we crave one to come,To banish hence foolish and dumb,To revive an olden soul in needAnd let the sire to battle his riders lead!
I shall sing marvel of the ancient dawn,When flags were waved and sword was drawnTo battle fangs and claws,For great virtue of Elven laws.I shall tell the gore-stained fight,From darkest pit to snowy height,Such a goodly amount of deeds!Hearken, my fond listener, for wiseman past counsel ever heeds.Grand birds watching over pass,Guarding the gate to hidden realms or vivid grass;They say, malice abides in the uncanny NorthWhence swarms of nightmares try to sally forth.For long shall the exiled immortal sufferThe shameful oath which mouths had dared utter,Harbinger of miserable destinyThat rendered worse treason and mutiny.Thus, we wherefore speak of 'hither-tales',Remedy is of no use and so failsWhen ill is such that tyrants reignAmidst countless sorrows and horrific strain.
Thus came a strange sire,Who molten gold could rule with fire,Wandering hither and thither across the wildAnd conducting his manners quiet and mild.He said this earth deserved better,For beauty never ought to scatterThroughout sea and land,Or meandering grinding ice and scorching sand.He vowed to make the world fair anew,By means of prodigy, so the sword he not drew;Friends the stranger found in smithsWho are wise of ancient skills we tell in myths.Grand labouring of forging began,Transfusing fantasy into being, as knows no man,Until magic Rings were carved from oreAnd their crafting meant thereafter war.Yet, three artefacts managed to escape tainting,Drawn in secret from sacred gems, as was the craftsman's wanting,Borne then by old keeper, mighty king and miraculous fairy;Three Rings to shield from decay and console the weary.
There lives a Hobbit,In a hole in the ground,Fond of delicate wine and tasty rabbitWhich easily he finds aroundHis green, warm home,Lit by candles and tales of yore,A vault in the hill, a soil-domeWhere folks gladly recall what was afore;One is house of gentle friendTo wary dwarf and fey mage,Who wrong much likes to mendAnd of his story write the page.To travel the untrodden eastern waysHe did not expect,And even less to partake in epic lays,In which his mind often was correct;So good can the tiny half-man do,Bearer of toil and fatigue,Who peril dared and upon Eagles flewBeside the reborn king and his Dwarven league.
Your coming to us is as the footsteps of doom,As spectral apparitions that swift loomAll over the merry Lady's domain,Which time is said to defy and malaise to drain.What dost thou bring hither, toiled guest,But relentless malice, core of your quest?Here shall you find that the door rests shutTo vice and pain, and to the peasant residing in poor hut.This is the golden realm of the White DameWhom many speak of in legend, renown and fame;Alas, the unwise know not how within the tree-kingdom all faresBethinking themselves that its ruler must be a witch plotting snares.Fate has decreed that your fellowship may enterThe land that of Elvendom is centre,After the wizard's fall in the darkWhich the final turn of the tide is to mark.Indeed, you lost precious and brave guideThat ever has stood on your side,Yet, what to eye seems might deceive one's sight,And sorrowful grey shall rise in hallowed white.
Down the mere ground,Neath the earth where is no sound,Below the unknown deep,Into the under a leap.Here slumber flames that ever burnAbout whose mystery only the wise learn,By means of lost record and forbidden book,Greatly craved in desirous look.I even long to tell the sea's beauty,Which is a minstrel's prime and foremost duty,For no secret is better kept but in the blueThat is sadly loved by so few.Where shall the tide lead the knot,If unwary mariners heed notWords of caution from the abyss,In the attempt of reaching perennial bliss?Listen to the ocean's voice,Thou who hast free choiceOf voyaging waves through,As thou deemest due.