Behind the walls of the Pelóri the Valar established their domain in that region which is called Valinor, and there were their houses, their gardens, and their towers. In that guarded land the Valar gathered great store of light and the fairest things that were saved from the ruin; and many others yet fairer they made anew, and Valinor became more beautiful even than Middle-earth in the Spring of Arda; and it was blessed, for the Deathless dwelt there, and there naught faded nor withered, neither was there any stain upon flower or leaf in that land, nor any corruption or sickness in anything that lived; for the very stones and waters were hallowed.J.R.R. Tolkien – The Silmarillion
witch film is it?
Such a great post around here. *Thumbs up*
Many of these pictures are nit from the lord of the rings, but seen us, like a "real-life"-fil, when this is so, witch film is it?
I think a couple are from THOR ;)
witch film is it?
Thor and Thor: The Dark World.
Clash of the Titans as well.
Indeed there are a lot of great Silmarillion pieces on DeviantArt. I think miy favourit one is this:
(http://orig03.deviantart.net/00e1/f/2014/094/9/e/silmarillion__unforgiving_by_wolfanita-d7br8si.jpg) (http://www.deviantart.com/art/Silmarillion-Unforgiving-443010114)
(It plays in Aman, so it basically is on topic... :P)
Nice DieWalküre! :)
Are you planning like this through whole First Age? :)
Maybe you can add some maps which shows difference between Utumno and Angaband. :) Think that would be nice. :) Was Udun other name for Utumno? Think I read that on some map with Lamps in time before all of this. :)
Maybe you can add some maps which shows difference between Utumno and Angaband. :) Think that would be nice. :) Was Udun other name for Utumno? Think I read that on some map with Lamps in time before all of this. :)
I found that map: http://s5.postimg.org/4u9ifpycn/Udun.jpg
Just to show, will remove message later if somehow map don't fit topic. (In your opinion, of course. :) )
I thought I can make it show better ;)
(http://s5.postimg.org/4u9ifpycn/Udun.jpg)
good work you r awesome
And here is same map from another perspective:There is greater distance between Angaband and Utumno on this map. :) It is nice anyway. :)
i rly wanna see a silmarillion movie
“Behind the walls of the Pelóri the Valar established their domain in that region which is called Valinor, and there were their houses, their gardens, and their towers. In that guarded land the Valar gathered great store of light and the fairest things that were saved from the ruin; and many others yet fairer they made anew, and Valinor became more beautiful even than Middle-earth in the Spring of Arda; and it was blessed, for the Deathless dwelt there, and there naught faded nor withered, neither was there any stain upon flower or leaf in that land, nor any corruption or sickness in anything that lived; for the very stones and waters were hallowed.”-J.R.R. Tolkien: The Silmarillion-
Fëanor and his sons abode seldom in one place for long, but travelled far and wide upon the confines of Valinor, going even to the borders of the Dark and the cold shores of the Outer Sea, seeking the unknown. Often they were guests in the halls of Aulë; but Celegorm went rather to the house of Oromë, and there he got great knowledge of birds and beasts, and all their tongues he knew. For all living things that are or have been in the Kingdom of Arda, save only the fell and evil creatures of Melkor, lived then in the land of Aman; and there also were many other creatures that have not been seen upon Middle-earth, and perhaps never now shall be, since the fashion of the world was changed.J.R.R Tolkien - The Silmarillion: Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië
I don't know where you keep finding these images but they are extremely impressive in quality.
Free she runneth and fain, wandering with deer throughout the golden plains of Valinórë.
Vast halls in the western ends of Valinórë, in which silence reigns and all surrounds,
Souls rest, mourn and for their final judgement wait, were they to be welcomed in the joyful Aman or from Eä forever depart.
@DieWalküre: Just wanted to let you know tha I realy like what you are doing here, even though I never say something but pictures look awesome :).Must agree !
Just keep going!
Lord of waves and stormy seas, I beg thee,
Thou knowest much of the World and fain would the foretelling of future my cause aid.
Nerwen, Princess of Kôr, thy grand deeds shall ever-present be in hearts and memory that doth not end,
In glory thy story people are to narrate, as thou makest miracles and the cause of the Good forever thou hast served.
I thank thee and bid farewell, wherever thou farest.
Bright blade in the night of terror and onslaught, thou hast not given up resilience and will to shield the weak, and the darkest fire thou thus faced and in honour withstood, albeit thy very life being the toll of such a deed.
Thou now farest yonder, where thy gentle people with love and affection thee await, to be together once again, after joy, peril, creeping sedition, exile, war and woes, for thou art the Princess of Kôr, and to Aman thou belongest.
Yavanna has all that is green and grows in her government,
Her ladyship over flowers and leaves has made Arda fairer and colourful,
The fruits of the earth reward toil and labour, and never-ending source of nourishment they were meant to be,
Her grandest deed was at the beginning of elder times, when the Two Trees emerged from the hallowed mound, fountain of eternal daylight and merriment among the ways of the blessed shires.
Tears of mine, sorrowful water of silence and grief, evidence of this world's wounds ye shall be, and dishevelled, withered and stained spoils ye are to wash and clean, and naught fell will in the end be, as wailing conscience justness and hope through the hard way is to find.
[...]Well, Dark Lord, there are forces in this world which were before Men and Elves, whose nature someone of your order should know well.
The Eldar sing many things of their home, deeds and tale. Men are rarely to grasp what rests beneath the surface of soothing melodies, for there is also old and conscious wit, narrating both triumph and tragic demise. Death and the merriment of life. The hopeful gaze at what is to be, alongside nostalgia and apprehensive waiting.
Yet, in no way is Arda by phoney images described. Arda embraces all and naught forgets. The World is radiant life for the Immortals, as are they for the World as well.
Turukáno, thou art king of glory and valour of old. Dauntless the spirit and incessant the pace, for through the death-bringing Ice thy people thou had to lead. Thy love perished along those frozen ends of miserable destiny. Hazard thou hast faced even when ye, Noldor, to the Hither-Lands have come. Hither ye came and the tenure of power was to be contested. Yet, vigorous blood flowed in thy veins, son of Ñolofinwë the Valiant. A pearl encircled by stone and peaks to thee was entrusted and offered. Consecrated with pride and awe, for thou art prime character of legends and mighty monarch under the bright Stars.
Highest of the peaks. Above the very clouds and even higher. Here lies the Holy Mountain over which naught else in the world towers.
Wake, first sons and daughters of the Children,
Long ye slept under darkness and amidst lone ways,
The deeds of the Star-kindler ye shall see as prime image, blessed and radiant, compass of your journey it is to be,
Of no illness ye are to bear the deadly toil, the passing of time will not burden your spirit also, for ye are life for this world and this world is life for you, and its fate shall be yours as yours shall be its.
The last High King, of whom minstrels often sing,
Lone monument of the old valour, in the midst of storm and lack of honour,
The toil of endurance was his dearest ally, yet also burden which makes weary and leads whither solitary souls lie,
Of grand deeds and quests it is a tale, albeit grief for which one may naught but mourn and wail.
His fell hands were eager to enter the gates of a pure domain,
Hands that labour and without mercy any order are to obey,
These are his deadly pawns in his thrall,
Yet, an older prowess they had to face, and water, begged by words of spell, the passage opted to bar.
Elven king under the Stars, a son I gave thee and sole of such fiery spirit shall be, for none is to have kindred skills or the strength to walk the path of legends and tales, but I am not to behold my beloved child's life blossoming, for consumed am I by the most intense fire.
Compelled am I to forsake the shires of the living and to rest in the Halls of the Judge, who all doth right and fair.
Infamous tale, aye, I shall speak of thine,
Thy sad story, marred by decay and treason,
A radiant Angel of light and knowledge,
Woes to thee, thou hast chosen darkness and his deadliest servant in truth thou becamest.
Emperor of the Oceans, of seas known and forbidden, on behalf of the Powers thou hast just spoken, of whom thou art messenger of hope. I shall listen and obey, for thy wisdom is the wisdom of the Archangels, that knoweth all and never is wrong.
Immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings.
Princesses of Aman. Fierce, fair and bold.
She remembers the Day prior to the Moon,
Among the joys of Aman, in endless noon,
Within the safe wall of the Blessed Kingdom,
There lie the Powers and their dwellings, wonders of the earldom.
Hail the Light of Eärendil, most beloved among our stars,
That naught makes dim or mars,
Keep it sound, hold it firm, gift of a royal maid,
May it pierce the veil of snares and your mission aid.
Night brings council, they say,
Outside the wall of paradise, far stars see I may,
I wander, lone, along the haven of swans, splendid art,
Gazing at the outer sea, wild, wishing to part.
White boats part from thy shore,
To seek their goal and save the lore,
Thou, mighty maiden, bid farewell to them shalt,
Thou hast thy kingdom to defend, whence joy came and where prodigy hath dwelt.
The Smith fell, parted from his newly-conquered domain,
The lyrics of his plight shall be sung, but not fain,
His pride was crushed by devils, scattered as tears in the rain,
What shall be of him, into the grey realm of the Judge, where souls weep and wane?
City of Pearl, perishing in the flaming tempest,
Order of hell, the Dark Lord's conquest,
Tragic end of the tale,
Elves recall and for your fall wail.
Inside the enchanted forest, hidden from vile foe,
There lies a time-less shrine, defying decay and woe,
Melodies of harmony, that often are sung,
Hallowed land, to which Elves verily clung.
Lórien, treasure of old, in a world growing chill,
Raised and built as fine kingdom, whose pillar is indomitable will,
Golden Wood, ruled by a mistress of magic, the Lady of Light,
Ancient maiden, born in paradise, whom we deem wise queen of might.
Soon shall we part from this realm of grief,
From our fond dwellings, splendour among stone, water and leaf,
Grey times advance, breaking the spell of that lie, malicious and sham,
That we could carry on our lives in bliss, as the kind innocent lamb.
A sacred valley,
Within hard stone and hallowed wood,
Shelter for the prey of fear and folly,
Magic which warms and nourishes one's mood,
Home to the wisest immortal lord,
Millennia-old and keeper of his sunny kingdom,
Versed with command, science, tale and comforting word,
A secret he hides, that beauty makes perennial and slows time in the earldom.
Silver lord and grand king,
Elf of ancient sagas to sing,
He met an angel once, of kind holy and good,
She was to be his queen, within carved halls and enchanted wood.
Melyanna, of the People of Aman,
Land immortal, blessed by marvel and warm sun,
Arda you loved much, enjoying the path among the singing bird and tree,
Until she found love, a silver-lord, ruling mortal shires of Beleriand, wild and free.
A bell tolls in the dark night,
Folks rush, cry and fight,
Wooden roofs set on fire,
Maidens wail, woeful choir.
Doom has come on wings,
To ravage the world and burn things,
Behold, someone gave up not and climbs chimneys as swift sparrow,
Ready to slay the demon, flying a black arrow.
Leaving these sorrowful shores behind,
Great relief for a troubled mind,
Passing through the ways of the blue,
Away from mayhem, woe and gloom.
Ride, ride fast, White Pilgrim,
To defy the grimness of our times, getting our hope dim,
Empyrean envoy, for how many man's lives did you fare?
The Enemy comes forth, his plot unveiled and bare.
May your steed not fail the quest,
This war shall close the age, the very last test,
Guardian of light, ride resolute against the inexorable doom,
Daring whom we greatly despise, a foe seeking endless darkness and hopeless gloom.
Behold, the White Rider is here,
To relieve the city from doubt and fear,
The Black Land is a whole rage of ashes and storm,
Much dread we the Great Eye in its foul fiery form.
Gandalf is greeted by the Keeper of the Havens himself after the wizard's landing on the westernmost shores of Middle-earth. The Elf-sire was one of the very few who saw through the mystery around the Istari's arrival in the world, grasping their real imperative purpose and original might. Adding to that, Círdan immediately foresaw the leading role that the Grey Wizard would later undertake even among his fellows, recognising and hailing in honour his very pure heart, together with an incredibly sensational wisdom. Hence the decision to give up to him the crimson Ring of Fire, so that it could aid the perilous mission of the Grey Pilgrim by easing the burden of worldly hardship and inspiring courage in hearts grown chill.
Círdan awaited the return of Gandalf for more than two millennia, until the task was done and both were therefore ready to part from that grey shore, sailing to the sundering waves in the company of the last mighty ones of their immortal kind.
Under the lamps of an old night,
Yonder, vessels burn, flaring bright,
Treason at last came, so did the course of things wheel,
Stranded in the frozen wastes of chill.
Anywhere else I would not dwell,
Hither heads the Hobbit and always shall,
Our happily beloved Shire,
Green and bright of hearth-fire.
Good marvel, the sea-lord has come at last!
At the head of his infinite vessels, solid and fast,
Behold, before the very world,
Such immense fleet, greater than any earthly force, tenfold.
Grand isle, old empire,
Salvation star, in times dire,
Closest to western seas,
Whence friendly ships once came, fulfilling dreams and pleas.
Splendid tower,
Marble-made, before which all foes cower,
Seat of Men's great power,
Where the White Tree grows, nourishing of hope the flower.
Upon the hard marble of the City,
All behold the White Rider going for the rescue, guided by pity,
Fell winged beasts, away!
The wizard shall spell his magic and you back shall he sway.
Green darkens, trees agonise,
A menace looms on woods, sinister spirits arise,
The forest wails and cries help in its whole,
Alas, still rests the Woodland King in his hidden hall.
Mordor, amidst venom and ash,
So fast and busy thy servants dash,
Thy pawns, Dark Lord,
Bound to thee and thy treacherous word.
Green was once vivid,
Vibrant, not timid,
At the time of peace, as winds many seeds used to sow,
Before the war none could fore-know.
During darkness and black,
Ancient forces worked for good and luck,
Star-kindler, to us you gave hope,
In form of stars, which all may see from peak, isle, plain or slope.
It shines of pale green,
Nought but a shadow of life and sin,
Plagued, infested by wights,
Luring Men through devilish lights.
Lieutenant of fiend-fire,
A fiery demon, vilest sire,
Flame of hell which wanes not,
A cruel king he's deemed by his evil lot.
A king surpassed in darkness,
Just by the Fallen Vala, harbinger of wilderness,
Three treasures he used to keep,
Locked in his stronghold, buried deep.
In the pits horrors dwell,
A gruesome beast and fell,
Too far from the joys of bliss,
Too deep for light to reach, in the abyss.
A gem among her blessed folk,
Beside the suffering she'll ever walk,
Riding fast in the gleaming night,
Bearer of mercy and holy light.
My lord of grand deed,
Accept, I beg, this my vow,
Soon-to-blossom seed,
To defend thee I swear now.
Thy realm hath found,
A new servant of will,
Hearken, ye devils around,
The tiny guard shall fight in fire and chill.
Higher than mount or wall,
The Blue Titan rises in storm,
From beneath the seas, from his deep hall,
Calming the waters with music, making the cold warm.
So, behold thou, the seat of Might!
Beyond cloud and height,
Above splendour and marvel,
Thence the King decreeth words and chooseth well.
A mine, fountain of riches,
One-time crossroad of old,
In no way to adventure into, as everybody beseeches,
Lest evil unfold.
A mine, not a tomb,
Merry past, not sorrowful doom,
Now rest the dead quiet, life out has worn,
Tale to bear in heart and tearfully mourn.
The broken way ahead,
Such staggering a sight,
Despoiled treasure, lying sad,
Severed bridge in plight.
The remnants of craft,
Grand doing of old,
Touched by greed and lust,
Yet fabled strong and bold.
The greatest jewel of Dwarves,
Dug long, carved without pause,
Pride which hides naught and ever shows,
Fallen, at last, trapped in fangs and claws.
Therein, evil anew awoke,
For avarice rarely forgives,
And often one binds under yoke,
Deep down, where grow not leaves.
Thou, Bane of Earth,
Reveal to me what knowing is worth,
Together, these two towers shall rise above all,
As thou art to commence the war which Arda shall bind to fall.
The Exiled shall have his throne anew,
Too long has he walked the woods amidst the morning dew,
Tasting the rough savour of hare stew,
Accustomed to wildness among his loyal few.
Fell and loathsome like few before,
Callous as only nasty lords in dire lore,
His coming freezes green and conjures ice,
A beacon of sinister ones, lured by sham faith and vice.
Hurrying with haste, passing by bush and thicket,
The wizard's watch on woods scares a lot the wicked,
For his odd soul has even won the heart of beasts,
Conjuring aiding spells when his rod's top he twists.
Behold the mighty Flame of the West!
Prime blade, be it of much avail for the quest!
Shards of what was once broken, and later forgotten by fools,
With this you may conquer the hardest temper and subjugate ghouls.
Offspring going back very far in the past,
At the time of endless mornings which eternal would last,
The worst demon then besieged that perennial noon,
And her awful brood crawls now unseen along the spooky City of Moon.
Tend the wound and wipe the curse,
From a prideful woman who long has battled on her swift horse,
Ranger, chant the melody anew,
The blessing of your western people, sages of science known solely among few.
Much and long have the Noldor fought,
To keep the foul North at bay, besieging the Enemy, trapped and caught,
Shields were shattered, as glowed swords in an age bygone,
Eventually, victory shone clear, albeit hardly won.
Ride! Ride facing ruin and just clash!
Giant beasts bar the path, their horns armours slash,
May the knight not stray and so his high-born,
Until the foe is crushed for good and torn.
Traitors, murderers that forswore their honour,
Growing paler in time, dimmer than moonlight colour,
Forgetting the sweet tastes of life,
Turning then into spectres, lingering in the world upon the edge of a knife.
Versed smiths and gallant warriors, stranded in the cold,
Master of ore, of steel and molten gold,
Middle-earth shall not bid you fond greeting,
There will you struggle, guilt-ridden and piety-seeking.
Old and very sage of the green,
Prince of lost days, who seldom fails or wrong is to mean,
A potent silvan lord, ruler of great bows and golden trees,
Much he may presage, for very distant he sees.
Edain, very feeble and weak at the unaware eye,
Men who bear the scars of time, who often mourn and sigh,
There is more, harboured deep in their flaming temper,
Whose candour is lively fire which evil winds don't hamper.
Long shall the grey pilgrim voyage still,
For the sake of his task, and nought else to do he will,
Far must he head, stumbling into wrong and trouble,
Be it old woods, hidden shrines or mighty strongholds of marble.
Pure beauty, that words cannot describe,
The mirror of bliss, a heavenly vibe,
Who could then will to part from the Enchanted Valley?
But those moved by utter folly?
Survivor of incredible fame,
Elven lord, whom even infernal fire did not tame,
Victor of death and doom, sent from sacred noon,
Reflecting only virtue and hope-filling moon.
A steward, an old keeper,
Wishing nought but good, of balance seeker,
His rule grew weaker of late,
As grimmer turned the prospect, lingering powerless as mere bait.
High King, thou hast borne the heaviest weight,
Such was reigning at the mercy of fate,
A throne worthy of legend, yet blood-stained,
Until all was gone and forever waned.
Folks know you as the finest arrow,
Prince of woodland, bane of filth hiding in hollow and burrow,
Swift you fire your deadly dart,
Sure as your goodwill, unknown to human craft or art.
Before the very gate of hell,
Whence shall swarm all we deem fell,
Infernal ranks seeking to kill our brotherly bond,
For a last invasion, tearing asunder what we hold fond.
Stories and lies, beside the fireside,
That shall you hear, clear and wide,
Many tongues in the tavern, many unfriendly mates,
The feeble candle makes its way through dimness and slowly fades.
Fell demon, thou shalt regret this day,
As thy blade into the king's heart hath made its way,
Avenged shall be the lives of the pure,
Smiting thy empty ruin, while I this fate-tenson endure.
Jewel surpassing legend and tale,
Today jesters recall not the song and fail,
Crown of potency, which no king has worn,
For it plunged his realm into tears and made it war-torn.
Antique craft, suddenly lost as blows the wind swift,
Meant as a token of good faith and gift,
So should have augured well the fabled heirloom,
It stirred instead woes and brought doom.
Thither shall you go fain,
Leaving behind ruins and this very world's bane,
Weary Elf, doubt not and fare ahead,
Whither none gets old or even sad.
How did fine green turn so ill?
No hand could ever cure the ailing wood, no art will,
Unless the intruder be driven out for good,
Restoring quiet life and lively mood.
Crimson locks of pure will,
Devout guard, unwavering zeal,
Patrolling routes, trodden by none,
Only nightmares seem to abide in the green, since much harm was done.
Lone seat, resilient kingdom,
Sung across shires and along the earldom,
Recalled in chronicles, of how fared the Dwarven sire,
Ere annals slew the gallant monarch and put him on a pyre.
Colossal fort of night,
Exerting fear and terror,
Gaoling its foe and binding him tight,
In the endless chain of horror.
Banned, outlawed and forsaken,
He seeks to garrison allies and his country's force awaken,
His spear shall he cast, piercing the White Hand's beast,
Prelude to much worse ill that rose in the East.
Look, behold ahead,
Across friendly faces and a green thread,
Of folks and gentle souls,
Who neither need sword nor walls.
Behold, a grey pilgrim comes forth,
Calm as summer and its sunny worth,
What shall he bring?
Strange trinkets or other verses to sing?
Not in vain does the wizard arrive,
Wise and potent as his fellow five,
Telling stories of fey sense,
Fathoming such kind spirits in but a glance.
Once parted, we hope he'll be back nigh,
Missing more knowledge to live by,
Longing to greet a loved guest again,
Fancied by Elves, stubborn Dwarves and fine Men.
There shall be times of joy and times of ire,
Years of wealth and splendour, under the reign of your high sire,
Sun will die slowly, caressing the seas surrounding the Star,
Resting from fatigue, ere the lamp fades away and heads far.
Shall the haven of friendship stay open, abreast,
As long as the ally remains the finest and best,
So will Elves still sail to sunrise, yearning the immortal friend,
Until Men choose trust and good, reason of great gift to send.
Fair shines the ancient sign,
Of past friendship and lost might,
The gate to lovely chants and flowing wine,
A passage of silence and dim light.
Hazard lingers still afore the bridge,
Fouler perils may too slumber in the deep,
The fortress surrendered to fire and siege,
Two vast wings of death and a flaming whip.
Strange, but no fool,
Loving green and all things of nature that men lure,
Abiding lonely at the edge of the wood,
Of which is loyal keeper, fathoming its state and voluble mood.
Mistaken is whoever views buoyancy as fault,
Fallacy lies not in him, as idleness in lightning bolt,
Wise in curing and healing ill,
While forests suffer heat, venom or sudden chill.
Audacious is the fighting guard,
Promptly watchful, the army's shard,
Atop the fabled rings of the Tower,
Which he's bound to defend from foul power.
A sentry, a grand town,
Finer than silk, fairer than every maiden's gown,
Clothed in marble and stone,
White as morning glare and ivory bone.
Thither, to the Realm of Wonder,
Lying so far from death, along the tides of yonder,
A straight way must lead the immortal across every wicked wave and meander,
Passing over the great sea which two continents would once keep asunder.
I shan't call it an end,
Ere we sort this mess and wrong mend,
Master, a better fellow could not be found,
One who dares flames, depthless pits and cursed ground.
Then shall the quest be over for good,
For any gallant hero who proudly stood,
Firm against doom and brave before fire,
Forswearing deception and scolding the liar.
Do not fear, young heart,
And much valiant and brave,
Amidst wicked blade and dart,
Being afore a grim earth to save.
Draw your sword,
Be it thin or small,
Beside a greatly revered lord,
Ready to face anything set to befall.
Blue shelters on the sea shore,
A passage, the westernmost door,
Safe and calm as morning wake,
Wreathed in secret as mountain lake.
The last fair home of a scattered kin,
Fate had them suffer from war and sin,
Albeit spared to see the dawn of other ages,
As thirst for avenging wrongs within the stone now rages.
Enchantress, Dame of Wonder,
Born in legend, come from yonder,
Stretch your arm and cure the ill,
Bound by fate's cruel wheel.
Speak your magic and chant the song,
That cleanses filth and mends the wrong,
Fey Maiden, keep my worried heart secure,
Within your golden realm, where ruthless time you ever endure.
Captain of valour, not of ill,
Among those who justness ever will,
Brave guard of trees and streams,
Not worthy of fatherly love, it seems.
Unwise judgement, for sure,
The steward goes weaker, every dawn more,
His weary rule might not pass next winter,
Mistaking his loving son as mere savage hunter.
I would thou wert beside,
I would thou troddest wide,
And far, to rescue folks that languish,
Daring proud aught fiendish.
'Tis time light shone,
So radiant, so vivid,
No place is there for a king timid,
No man shall rise alone.
We need find a crown,
A crown her people will have found,
Perhaps not from gold or oil,
Likely from forest dirt and harsh soil.
Come, folks of the blue,
Your heart begs to part and sail through,
Passing mist and tides,
Fast as evening gale which wave rides.
Alas, stronger is the wish to linger here,
By staying shall the Elf be made wiser and seer,
Thither you shall not head,
Not yet, for by love is the silver sailor led.
I shall teach you lore,
Of all that was afore,
Wonder beneath the sea,
Indomitable and ever-free.
Storm is not to be feared,
Her song by dread will not be smeared,
May you heed my word and keep it secure,
As keep abysses their mystery, for ages to endure.
Vastness of water, in which hopes and pain sink,
Sundering sea, that two worlds once would link,
Gate and access to everlasting good,
Secure from hatred and foul brood.
Pit and trap, one may say,
Let him speak,
Let him go his way,
Sea dwellers and folks of peak.
They know not,
They ignore the peril we've long fought,
Very few tell the plights of Rohan,
Foes we loathe and ever won.
The tide is turning against the ship,
Now, alas, woes return and forth leap,
Blood runs through hay and straw,
Corpses waste in sadness and get raw.
A stone-fort shall be the tomb,
So hopes the cunning wizard, in sudden night and soon,
Within the rock, mounts shall be the finest armour,
In spite of chilling rain and iron clamour.
Whither are you heading?
Is fate to the just path leading?
To the Black Land that doesn't rest,
Seat of devilry which none has dared to best.
Sole folly will take the gentle inside,
Vast as a nightmare, and sour and wide,
Fumes and poison to breathe,
Ashes mask the secret and evil wreathe.
Inns and taverns,
Warm and lit,
So far from forest and caverns,
Prudent travellers and much wit.
Beware of the abroad,
Outside the wooden wall,
Of which is sung no ode,
Where shadows draw near and fall.
Ye gods! What would a ghost do?
Inside the merry Shire, through and through?
Black knights as the vicious night,
So appears the cruel queer wight.
They must be seeking an unlucky lad,
To torture badly and drive mad,
Indeed, tales spread from the faraway East,
That phantoms ride or check the skies atop some winged beast.
Resting in glory is the dwarf-king,
His glowing blade near,
Embellished by gem and ring,
To his people greatly dear.
Set out for a quest,
Leading a company of fine,
Battling for life's best,
Friends, jolly songs and wine.
Beacon of hope and trust,
Ward off this fiend of blood-lust!
A ghoulish beast creeping about the gate of hell,
Devouring both pious and fell.
Lady of Light, I wish,
Release me from anguish and break the leash,
My path compels deeds for all to praise,
I must rid myself of dirt and pass the maze.
A potent horn to make all resound,
A sharp sword to hold the ground,
Reinvigorating the weary bound,
Sent afar, when doom's token was found.
Your kingdom you wanted to save,
Against a nasty coming wave,
To survive storm and gale,
Only to perish, midway, before the end of the tale.
An ugly visage of despair,
A doomed bridge, undone and bare,
A city, once pearl of fine making,
Until utter miserable breaking.
Marble shattered and shaken,
The stronghold of good was taken,
The task passed on to the white sentry,
Guarding the edge of light, the ultimate entry.
Much fabled was his celestial spear,
For no akin weapon hath ever been near,
Near the mastery of the Elven High King,
One of few who could truly dare the Dark Lord's Ring.
Reader, thou canst hear lies and truth of yore,
Yet, never wilt thou doubt the annal of this our lore,
Thou mayest sing and praise the two sires,
Remember, though, to spread the tale right among squires.
Beside the Star fought the prime of Men,
Finest kind, partaking not in the breach of the Ban,
The wisest of the mortal crown,
Vanquished, alas, by doom smitten down.
So perished the grand immortal, struck by fiendish flame,
Strangled in fiery grip, which augured nought but maim,
Both bowed and fallen, before the Prince of Night,
Tyrant of demons and potent in might.
Mournful ended that great duel,
Bloody and terrible, as deadly and cruel,
The vile emperor beseemed to pass his test,
Whilst his foes trembled and failed the Good's behest.
At the latest moment, when grave story was almost made,
Wielded royal kin the shards of fatherly blade,
Severing cursed gold from devil,
Forcing shadows to part and vanish as ghostly evil.
"Such heirloom shall then belong to me",
Said the new monarch, knowing not what was to be,
Bethinking just to claim his spoil,
He, son of western seas and master of Kingsfoil.
The conqueror thus became slave,
Overcome by destiny's impetuous wave,
For future ones to grieve and wail,
That so sad a man was caged in fate's gaol.
Nay, not only sole and lone,
Grand stories on cloth were sewn,
The Lonely Kingdom beneath the rock,
One which fiends never belittle or mock.
Home to the throne of Dwarves,
Warmest hearth, not wood of wolves,
Absolute seat of power,
Afore whose glory beasts may nought but cower.
Lord of songs and lays,
Sire of Ever-Sun and diamond ways,
Master of harp and melody,
Prince of wisdom and serene harmony.
He was there, to greet the Second,
Of hallowed memory the very beacon,
The latest of the Children to awake,
The fair paladin them taught and sage was to make.
Two colossi paving the way,
To the realm of glory and lay,
Commanding obedience and order,
Be wary, whilst crossing the border.
Stunned in fame and awe,
Similar fashion you never saw,
So high and huge the marble giants stand,
In defence of all of goodness throughout the land.
"Henceforth shall we rule,
As wanted saviour from ghoul,
Now shall roots reclaim their right,
Avenging wrongs in the furious fight.
In battle shall the Orc come to dread,
The wise shepherd that its kind to war led,
May the forest find peace anew,
To navigate grief and pains through."
Unto death and oblivion,
Past fell deeds and shadow's dominion,
I shall love thee, even in face of utter end,
Even when evils each of us bend.
Thou haddest one to dream at night,
Whom to call and bethink of in direst fight,
Thy half will not flee the raging war,
The Eve-Star is not to leave what was afore.
Sinister ever stands the lone tower,
So close to gruesome power,
Lying at the infernal end,
Foes whom light away may not fend.
Guarding a passage, in truth,
A secret stair, home to no ruth,
Gate to hell and wicked fire,
Seat of demons and their dark sire.
Riddles, voices in the cave,
Who shall the lost Hobbit save?
In the company of ugly fate,
A very sad story in the tale.
There has dwelt a creeping one for long,
Fond of fresh fish and silly song,
Forgotten, perhaps, by the world's bold,
Carrying, it seems, some eerie shining gold.
Dark sky, ghostly night,
No wheat field, just blight,
Festering fast in the Land of Shadow,
There flowers die and so does meadow.
Infested by wraith and wight,
Boding fates ill, in the fiefdom of non-right,
Everything dominates the fire mountain at the core,
Whose flames feed molten iron and the plan for war.
A king! A king of past days,
The Ban he defied not, for ill desire of untrodden ways,
His gaze commanded utmost love and trust,
Fallen by evil hand, his lifeless body to raw ash was cast.
Not in vain, for his loyal kin undid the yoke,
Saving their grand mortal domains and their folk,
Splendid sovereign, now lie your spoils inside hallowed marble and fable,
Inside the Citadel and the Tower, resilient and stable.
One Ring to rule them all,
To blaze lands and crush the wall,
To cage foes and gaol the world,
Pouring hell and malice in foul gold.
Greedy, driven by fiery desire,
To plunder the mount-realm and kill the sire,
Flames and death so hit the fabled kingdom,
The king had succumbed to gold and lost wisdom.
Wrath was rapid to undo and mar,
For the door to misfortune had been left ajar,
On huge wings came sorrow,
Summoning raging typhoon and blood-red morrow.
King under the mount,
Finest lord and best count,
Many winters has your beard endured,
Within solid ramparts your realm you have secured.
Much wealth and shining gems,
Is this what from glory stems?
Malady was same to befall your kin,
Dreaming about riches and welcoming sin.
Evil then appeared high,
Amidst clouds we sense it nigh,
A screech of horrid wraith,
Plunging men in despair without faith.
Slaves of one viler will,
Colder than even death and chill,
Dead they aren't, but an empty shell of vainglorious kings,
Wing-borne, serfs wearing Rings.
Evil Men, cowardly deceived and enslaved,
For them the path to doom was then paved,
Forced to revere the frightful lidless eye,
No prayer for him, but faithless plea and grievous sigh.
Reduced in serfdom and terror,
Captive of malevolence and error,
Aren't they too one of Men's kinds?
If only some undid the chain which tight binds.
Mount the steed and be calm!
I'm with thee to face harm,
To battle we head in good grace,
Daring hazard and fell black mace.
My lovely friend, do not dread the star-less night,
Nought we must but fiercely fight,
Sun shall rise and sweep the filth away,
We'll ride together and save the day.
I would thou wert to live,
Thy deeds a maiden on tapestry shall weave,
My wounded heart longeth for foes to slay,
Toll of honour for the lady of heath and hay.
Hearken to me, make this vow,
I need hear the oath now,
Lay my spoils on the flowered meadow,
Where rest only kind, clear from shadow.
Seek a half-man dwelling in green,
Where none potent has ever been,
My Ring they took and hid,
Kill them and bring it hither! So orders the Eye with no lid.
Inside the wood a power dwells,
Shielding trees, home and Elven bells,
Inside the wood a power lies,
Kept by mighty and known by wise.
The Ring of Water, prodigious wonder,
About which fable was told for much to ponder,
The Ring of Adamant, that all veils,
So that the Elf-maid never mourns or wails.
A blinding thunder of bright,
Piercing through ghoulish night,
A figure of pure sacred sight,
Veiled in mercy and holy light.
The savour of friendship he brought,
Battling villains, a war he fought,
For the sake of his gentle companion,
Whom he followed unto the fell dominion.
The taste of bravery, the flavour of good,
Jolly spirit, buoyant mood,
To see clear, out of the wood,
Keen on labour and pleasant food.
The spectre of the East,
Horrifying diabolical beast,
Desperation brings the haunting ghost,
Residing in mystery, to the many unbeknownst.
He serves his master of doom,
Round whom wraiths soar and loom,
Keeper of dungeons and wicked fort,
Concealed deep in woods of spook-sort.
It shall breach the gate and crush,
Bequeathing nought but grievous ash,
To shatter hope, to take the sentry down,
For the end of the fair city, gem of the crown!
Then shall a devilish dusk be cast,
Waking dormant horror and fire blast,
Monsters howl and roar to the moon's red,
This may the Hammer, the Wolf's Head.
Tales of yore are tales of gore,
Bloody contest tells the ancient lore,
Wherein the Noldo-king his silver blade wields,
In lays of fearsome hosts and broken shields.
Storm had called so evil winds,
And shadows swarmed at the behest of fiends,
Demons waving fiery whips,
Slayers of heroes whom the lone bard weeps.
Unto the arrival of the Western Lords,
Whose clamorous chant was potent words,
The Herald came to free the yoke,
For the sake of the rueful gentle folk.
"Foolish forest of rotten trees,
The Eye storms in ire and all sees,
Wishing but tempest to sow,
As fell gales ever-furious blow and go;
It's time your wood served my sharp steel,
Always turn must machine and wheel,
To build the army which wars wins,
Sinking wheatgrass into drought and sins."
Blessing of rare, under the stars born,
The clothes of moonlight thou hast worn,
To ride across vales and green,
On aiding the innocent thou art ever keen.
Go, now, a gentle's in peril!
In need of thy gaze and marvel,
Foe, nought canst thou do,
To stop the Eve-Star from passing through.
The White Rider is getting near,
To free us from dread and fear,
Bearer of light and secret fire,
Potency of holy, power of prior.
He comes at the time of doubt,
Seeking not gain or vain clout,
For his counsel may do far more,
When acts fail and shadows breach the door.
The chasm of doom spares none,
Atop the slopes whence one can't run,
There was misery forged and given fashion,
Another snare, another scheme to carry on.
One Ring, to rule them all,
For the end of order, for faith's fall;
An artefact to bind the same art,
Spelling a coming twilight, of horror the start.
Three Rings to keep and care,
From time which all strippeth bare,
Which stone eateth with hunger,
As Orcs that dark infest and cities plunder.
Three Rings, worn by the chief,
Within fair vale or golden leaf,
Or about the tide of western sea
Where thou, deathless, art to be.
Fallen by black hand and hammer,
The tale of fables and epic grammar,
Duel of doom before the Iron Gaol,
Whose victor we loathe and loser we wail.
Thus ended the tenson in grim,
When years get dreary and foul beseem,
Recall the contest of elder,
Of ages ruined by war and blessed by wonder.
Beneath the solitary oak
Shalt thou find calm,
Merry spring just awoke
To sing her tune and psalm.
Beneath the lone willow
Bid two friends good-bye,
Not in gloom or sorrow
Knowing adventure is ever-nigh.
Carry me away
From burning wheat and hay!
Witchcraft has come to kill,
And slaughter, in much nefarious will.
The longing of the vile mage
Who war against the heath is to wage,
Ardent is the desire to see the realm ablaze
As the horse-sire lacks wit and from right strays.
Resilient bastion of northern times,
Sung in elegy and rhymes,
In songs of disgrace and decay,
That ever darken a joyous day.
Capital of the ancient North,
Chest of treasure and worth,
She fell woefully by cursed sword,
Drawn and held by some vicious witch-lord.
Champion of Valinórë, come in the hour
Of ancestral strife, paladin and never bower,
Hither he travelled afore the rising sun,
Ere the Two Trees were even known to man.
Before the Western Shire shone
Of grandiose splendour and golden tone,
One great duellist defied darkness and vanquished the Foe,
The enemy past the night-gate he was thus to throw.
Uncanny is the tale of the beast,
Of a kind deemed lesser and least,
Inhabiting the dark sombre wave
Before the gate of the mines, which the stubborn dwarf could not save.
Do not disturb the water
Lest it be carnage and slaughter,
The Watcher ever guards the eerie shore,
For how long shall remain shut the door?
Clad in the garments of poor,
One hunter foes may not lure
Or deceive and beguile,
Used to walking day and mile.
In truth, his blood narrates far nobler lore,
For he's heir of old and afore,
Skilful, and of everyday man twice the size,
Which he masks well behind lesser guise.
Beside wild thickets lives the Brown Wizard,
Musing on woods and pipe,
Avoiding icy pass or nasty blizzard.
Verily, one queer funny type.
A watch he keeps on lands,
Ensuring peace among beasts,
Through the magic of his staff and wands,
Praying the Above during star-feasts.
The Vale, near the falling blue,
No blur or stain seems to pass through
The defence of the stout herald,
Whose Ring keeps safe from chaos and peril.
Mayhem may rumble and roar,
Abroad, anguish asunder tore
Acts of gentleness and goodwill,
Anywhere but in the realm of ravine, that love makes lasting and still.
Wise and immortal beings
Of grace that always wins,
Over darkness about to ascend
Whose havoc they are to mend.
White authoritative mage,
Along his fellow grey sage,
A potent fair maiden
And the Elf-lord dwelling in shrine, with joy laden.
Old and ancient as sea-rock,
About the shore he lives
And often builds and stocks
Great amount of ships, past the western trees.
The silent guardian awaits the hour
Of final parting from port and tower,
Until the kind wizard is back
In the company of good mood and luck.
"Bright Vala or foul fiend,
Vast ocean and raging wind,
May Manwë and Varda witness
That I vow in whole power and no weakness
To pursue the Foe unto the other shore,
For the reclaiming of my honour and lost lore.
Woe to thee, disgraced traitor!
The Elven blade shall avenge me, soon or later,
For the blazing flame of my ardent wrath,
Which is terrible fire that great sorrow ever doth."
Stubborn dwarf, you need not weep
And wail ruin which upsets deep,
Because shadows shall for once be driven out,
Along with gruesome beasts roaming about.
The void of the mine will not torment your spirit,
As long as you're true to trust and merit,
Warring against a cruel fate
Which to avert seems now so very late.
Proud feet and intense stare
Are nice ornaments to wear,
Good qualities to boast,
Though one appears unfriendly for the most.
Actually, kindness hides itself in unusual hearts
Quite profound to grasp, divided in parts,
Cold-stone temper may yet again be kindled,
Renewing fond thoughts which for once dwindled.
Let us make a foray into the realm of stone,
Round whose plains and fields we roam
With jolly mind and never lone,
Gazing at sundering seas and coast foam.
Here lie harbours and ports,
Secure haven for Gondor and her ship,
Splendid multitude of forts
That push the adversary back, as true evil's whip.
Guide me to the sombre altar
Of the unlucky dwarf-lord who didn't falter
In front of coming ruin from the deep,
Lying now silent, for anyone to weep.
Such horror befell the one-time jovial mine,
Once joyful stronghold where Dwarves would dine;
May you rest in peace in beloved shrine
Beneath the shrouded mount and evergreen pine.
Glory to thee, my master-king!
Thy mythic deeds I shall fain sing
As it doth right to the Elf-lord
Who devils battled and drew sword.
Ye gods, that in the Miraculous Land dwell,
Have mercy of your courageous child
Who perished by cursed hand and fell,
Electing to avenge his kind unto the wild.
Fair damsel of valiant kin,
To redeem thyself and clear sin
Thou hast come to the hither-shore,
Partaking in struggle and elder lore.
Heiress of resilience and wit,
Bound to travel and dark love meet;
Beside thy blood, to joust and hunt,
Which renounce ye ever shan't.
Master of lyrics and rhyme,
Thou hast lived for not long time,
Watching thy beloved craft fall
Under cruel wicked thrall.
Perished in horrid fortress,
But defiant and dauntless
Before the deceitful Lord of Snare,
Whom with fateful song thou wast to dare.
The Black Tower and its spikes
Speak far ancient tell,
Of so arcane likes
Amusing the listener not so well.
It's mighty home to a mage!
Clothed in stainless white,
Reputed great among sage,
Keen on watching stars from the height.
Finest dweller of the green,
Those we hail as mean
Thou keepest away
In every good story and say.
Who art thou, I enquire?
Not cheap conjuror or silly liar,
But as old as the very earth
Which is still deemed happy and worth.
She gave me three fair locks,
Of radiance that sunless past mocks,
When the immortal kin abode in wonder
Across the sundering seas and farther yonder.
Gold kindling hearts to joy,
Pure silver which time does not alloy;
Henceforth shall I name no other gift well
As the Lady's, of whom folks great tell.
It's time you bade good-bye
To folks we deem strong and high,
And much valorous and big,
As quiet Hobbits who till the ground and dig.
Round the Shire perils pry
As days got shorter and passed by;
Nights grow darker and very grim,
Giving way to shadows that foul beseem.
Thou sayest wrong of elder tale,
When deeds beseem mere cry and wail;
Bespeak, instead, of gallant king
Daring ominous fates on Morgoth's Ring.
I beseech thee, the story ought not to rest untold.
Grave events which smote Beleriand and were then to unfold,
Bringing ruin and laying waste
To fine grand realms, as hazard was faced.
Sing the glad tune and be content!
Behold in marvel! It is my intent
To wake the faint trees to reason,
Preventing harm and awful treason.
I shall chant, careless and merry
The beauty of bushes, streams and berry,
Heading home to meet my joy,
Who ever welcomes this nice jolly boy.
Bogey-story of worn age
Telling war and tenebrous mage,
Harbinger of fell chill,
Laying despair by malicious will.
A witch-lord clothed in night
For the ailing of just rule and kingly right;
Amassing large host of beast and spell,
Shedding regal guise to grow ferociously fell.
"Come hither, I wait for thee.
Through thick mist thou canst not see
Swathing evil about to strike,
Akin to which is naught alike.
Thou wilt slumber in howling wind,
Inside the room of nasty fiend
That seeketh his plot to unmask
Once sun is down, at fearsome dusk."
When kneels tremble and feet fail,
One wondrous lady you ought to hail;
The stream-maid, herald of spring,
Whom folks revere and in legend sing.
At the sky she waves to summon rain
Refreshing woods and country lane,
Awaiting her love at the edge of green,
Where all stays well-tended and clean.
Giants roam loose and wild,
Witless, savage and never mild;
Unaware of vicious chain
Which is of evil worst bane.
Minions need beasts to tame,
To enslave and plunder they solely aim,
Until green lands ail and choke
Under the Dark Sire's yoke.
Above, the Grand Star rose
For the dread of ghouls and foes,
Therefore clearing the elder night
When holy hosts would clash in might.
The fleet of Manwë battled fire
Across heavens, celestial and higher;
O! Sublime Mariner come from bliss,
Thou wonst war and laidst bare the abyss.
At the sign of the Prancing Pony
Tales are told, sham and phoney;
Enter, come inside!
Folks who travel and far abide.
At the sign of the lively inn
Shall you see gross load of sin,
While unfriendly eyes ever gaze
At foreign guest immersed in haze.
Fare, now, to grievous shire!
Bear my will and the Power's ire
Which faithless fiend undoth,
Gales shall blow and sound my wrath.
Great Wing of mine,
With such grace of thine
Wilt thou voyage skies
Unto lands, yoked in lies.
Ride quickly, dear wizard!
Naught may hinder thee in truth,
Neither wuthering nor blizzard,
For thy quest is born in ruth.
Fare well and stray not!
Thou shalt fly on whispering wind
Through much talk, 'why' and 'what',
Unless thou be'st to enter gloom and battle fiend.
Foreboding death and terror,
Far inland, within the realm of horror;
Under drearily endless nightfall
Portending ruin and downfall.
Beside the fire-mountain,
Of molten stone fountain,
Stands his dark seat and throne,
Damasked with grief and human bone.
Ah, thou willest to know more
Of queer Wizards and their lore,
Enough to please thy wit
With worn tales that bards befit.
Then, they're all wise and five in number,
Daring the unknown we deem sombre;
No trifles is their power,
But means to avail those grown yet sour.
Farewell, my fine brave friends.
No need to make amends,
For every woe betided,
As with right we justly sided.
I'm soon to part and sail
To lands one won't bewail,
Resting quietly and fain
Within the vast Sunny Domain.
Of triumph the sweet savour,
Voices fade and quaver.
Grand flares wound the skies,
And mighty wings soar and rise.
The Holy Ship will clear and sweep
Dirty wrongs rooted deep,
So the Iron Stronghold is bound to fall
By deed of the bright Saviour we had to call.
The Steward thinks and schemes
Not by chance or whims,
Locked solitary in his hall,
A war he seeks to forestall.
Indeed, a token seems to give him wisdom
To govern faraway town and loyal fiefdom;
Yet, much anxious he also grew
When shadows began to creep and closer drew.
Mongering rumour and talk
Among the folks that on water walk,
Bent by cold and hardship,
By awful rule of greedy lordship.
A wary lady with inquisitive mind,
Sure and proud of her lake-kind,
Peering ever at foreign deed
Which often is of ill the seed.
Yet, some valour might slumber still
Inside such lively fierce will;
A fire turning peasant into hero
Who battles wrongs and faces shadow.
Left herbs and nets aside,
Her furious cry resounds wide,
While charging devils and wielding her spear
For sake of the poor she holds dear.
Forged unstained and pure,
Made in trust to endure
The grave earthly sickness
Which all devours and worsens weakness.
Should one the story enquire
I speak of the Ring of Sapphire,
On the finger of great wise-lord,
Versed in medicine and master of sword.
Fine Ring of warming crimson,
Good to dare hazard and tenson,
Defying toil and strain
When valiant heroes fade and wane.
May fiery ruby avail thy quest
In dire time of deathly test;
A beacon of hope in endless abyss,
Pray, thou wilt not fail and go amiss.
As leaves wither, as winds crumble wall,
Shall grief thee befall,
My dear daughter, Star of the Eve,
Of whom legend they sing and weave.
Once gone and spent,
The force thou hast so gladly lent,
Will dying woods welcome thy spoils
Neath sick boughs and wasted foils.
White swan-ship crossing waves,
Bound thither, for Light she craves.
Longing to rid her colours of sorrow and weight,
She passes swiftly through thunderous fate.
On the other side of the ether
The burdened Elf is not to dither,
As blissful shires lie ahead,
Far away from gloom and dread.
Ye were born and blessed
Afar from good and rest.
It doth be the Immortal's fate
To linger on, until times get late.
Recall, starlit heavens told your coming,
Divining life afore the Morning.
First to awake in elder days
And tread with pride of yore the ways.
Amidst golden bough and hallowed leaf
Suffer Elves no stain or grief,
For Nenya fills the woods with joy
Avoiding sneer and enemy ploy.
Lands are made fair and young
In manner fey and much unsung;
Time spoils not such fairy-lane,
As sundry wonders bless this Maiden's reign.
Good we not always eye
Well enough to undo the lie
Chaining mind and thought,
Mistaking lords for peregrine lot.
A king might hide
His regal guise and pride
Behind dirt and humble sort,
Ere regains he crown and fort.
Their hearts receive wound and sorrow,
Forsaking greyness and deathly morrow,
As they bid adieu to grief
And part from pain we deem such chief.
I would thou wert to pass
Fond eras, amidst evergreen meadow and sanctified grass,
Rejoicing at the Power's doing,
Ere all plungeth thus in ruin.
Living ones laud thy deed
In relentless pace along the reed,
After ages had gone and worn,
Banned from joy where Light was born.
Sunless were days afore the noon
When dawn was not to fade so soon.
Laden with angst and loss to grieve,
Thou madest wonder upon the moonlit eve.
Betwixt storm and light breeze
Lie robust ramparts we never lost,
Nearing peaks which winters freeze
Under thick snow and perennial frost.
Thou mayest sing aloud,
Much gleeful and proud,
How stainless white hath kept at bay
Serfs from dark lands of no-day.
The Little Folk I hold much fond
And glad am I to cherish bond
Betwixt people of diverging fate,
While heading west, to grey port's gate.
My friend, exiles yearn to pass the sea,
Chanting tales and speaking glee.
Pray, thou shalt proceed and reach thy goal,
To cure this world as thou knowest sole.
Watching height of old
That stood in heat and cold,
To lie now declined,
By weather's ire signed.
Observing top of western kin
Which very few could ever win
By virtue of sheer force,
As famished wolves would growl most hoarse.
Grace of thine, I beseech,
Lay bare such hollow ditch!
Conquer the evil coven
Wherein lightless void was densely woven.
Envoy, thou art bidden to best
The Iron Crown and lands contest,
For the freeing of hither-folks,
For the undoing of loathsome yokes.
So light and gracious
Danceth the woodland monarch's precious,
Lifting the spell of doom
Upon elder lands that long to bloom.
So grand a kindred of heaven-sort
Before whom fell the taken fort,
For she's the daughter of Might
And fearsome scourge of wicked wight.
Halt and fly away,
Ghost of gloom and gruesome grey!
Servants of malice abiding far,
Foes of justice and portentous star.
Avaunt, wraith of dread and shiver!
Thou commandest ogres, but not the river.
Now shall I rouse waters and wrath
To smite thee with hoofs and hinder thy path.
Ride, fine glaring steed!
Behind dell and cheerless reed
Lurks of dark the slave,
Woken live from sombre grave.
Behold, a bright saviour is drawing near,
Heralding will of the fabled Seer
Who dwells in joy by the peak,
Mending rues of hearts grown weak.
Put aside the ragged raiment of the poor!
Thou art not to govern moor.
Thy royal kindred began not here,
But yond the Sea, whither long grand ships used to veer.
Ere lands and realms decline,
Accept this fateful quest of thine.
Long and glad have minstrels sung
One for whom harps were wrung.
Austere visages Men mocked in stone.
Deeds of yore they had once sewn.
Ancient figures of dwindling valour
Hued so vivid with wasting colour.
Ye, mighteous, behold
How darkness grew by hundredfold!
Clouds storm across the hem,
Whence staining vapours creep and stem.
Grand sire within the reed.
Wise ruler inside the wood.
Counsel he needn't heed
To choose and judge for good.
Upon his rapid steed
He dashes through the green,
Desiring epic deed
That wipes the land so clean.
Thou hast so long borne
The weight of fearsome doom,
And that thou dost forlorn,
As bogey-spectres loom.
Traitor's hands might claim
Thy precious golden Ring,
Ere thou art its will to tame
And in hollow flame such bane to fling.
Imperious sight before eyes
Of glaring beauty commanding sighs.
To the Ever-Fair hast thou fared,
Which only fools to battle dared.
Behold, thy wont hath woken wrath!
Beware, for under rocks will end the path
Of those forswearing reason,
Hence wreaking vile their treason.
Hasten, now, and spread the order
For buoyant knights to grow much bolder.
Fords and rivers we are to wade
To send relief and saving aid.
Gondor needs a friend in war,
Partaking same in woe and gore.
Fell crown, begone!
Victorious deed as coat I don.
Cry aloud and wide:
Today we chant in pride
The crownless sat anew
On kingly throne of brilliant hue.
Grand monarch of brighter days,
May you rest in songs and lays;
Shall we henceforth hail thee right,
As utmost paladin and knight.
Timeworn yet hale
Wanders he as northern gale,
Giving counsel of wisdom
To deeply worried fiefdom.
My, so fey a mage,
Deemed potent skilful sage.
A staff he bears and uses well
To lull the winds and tempest quell.
Winding along, through shires of old,
Bound by heat and ancient cold,
As seas would split the world in two:
Half held by Power, half drowned by rue.
Foundering tides smote not thy course.
Thine ever-blue hath witnessed worse,
While drenching lands and gifting life
On starlit paths of wrenching strife.
Mayhap shalt thou live to see
The tragic end of oath and plea
Which wrought but doom and foil,
Paired indeed with rusting toil.
Funereal elegy sang and told
Of holy stones and Elven-gold
The very tale betiding,
Faring yond and there abiding.
Keep the stone and hold it well!
Agin aught dark and very fell
It beareth strength and light of old,
Hewn from peak and wrought by bold.
Fashioned was the forest-gem
In yonder-lands at seas' hem,
As holy shires dwelt in bliss
And Powers deemed nought else amiss.
Drawn it was from stainless ore
In hours young of years afore.
Made to aid by restful Queen
To heave fatigue from weakened being.
Pray, it shall avail thy doing
While faring plains and mending ruin.
It were great ill to forsake the mirthless
Whom so much scarce thou seest worthless.
Sneering hills hoard some fiends
Breathing mist and ghoulish winds,
Awoken again from filthy cairn,
Risen astir, as wolves in den.
Cooling stones could hardly keep
Hatred buried so much deep.
Sun declines and twilight falls
Upon these broken eerie walls.
Silver Ewers carrying beads
Of blissful drops and gentle deeds.
Fine works of ancient skill,
Passed on to cheer one's will.
They bear relief and joy
Against malaise that might alloy
Lively roots and vibrant green,
Renewing vim to make it clean.
Be wailing harps wrung.
Be gripping tunes sung.
Fearful songs glide aloft,
Which cautious murmurs broadly waft.
Havoc thou hast brought in here!
Nought we know to be so sheer
Of malice wreathed in fiery guise,
Borne on wings and fearsome size.
If thou wert to ponder
Whether good it be to fare such yonder,
Didst thou so fair a deed,
When bound afar, whither tides shall lead.
I would thy snow-white vessel went
Away from plight which tore and rent.
Sundering seas ye will cross,
Ere these shires yield to loss.
May thy lance be true
To weather pains in rue.
Heath-rider, fly in pride through vicious pike!
Fiends art thou to smite and strike.
Find me men to hail as just,
Whose flaring fury turned to lust.
Gird thyself in iron mail,
Praying we'll last till dawn's first gale.
Bare of joyful times,
Are wailing widows mourning.
They weep in cheerless climes
Of sullen morn the dawning.
O gallant Rider!
Life was spent upon thy steed;
Through fey lanes winding wider,
So brave a knight thou wast, indeed.
In sundry tongues they speak so ill
Of holly-lands and breezing chill.
There great smiths would riches hoard,
Earning fame and praising word.
Stowing wonders was not to save
Happy lands from coming wave,
As nights bedimmed a swooning age,
Fraught with storms about to rage.
He led his fellows past the dark;
Infernal roar he was to hark,
And standing firm he dared his foe
Whom none could best with blade or bow.
Shadows rose so tall amok.
Heat undid the molten rock.
A curse was placed on those grim halls.
The fiend was felled and torn were walls.
Legend saith that hope was gone,
When malice hearts had stricken wan.
A work of perfidy beyond recount,
Inside the hollow bogey-mount.
Yet light outlived the dreadful ghoul.
Fight was brought to height and cool,
Where ice lay ill and tempest raged,
And fiery war to vice was waged.
Fervour burst anew in land.
Here is king too great and grand
Whom such few words might laud aright,
He who brought the world delight.
Thou henceforth shalt behold a crown
That days daunt not in port or town.
Lordship is again rekindled,
Once years grew bleak and valour dwindled.
Wonders sprang thereafter wide.
Ordained was light to spread and glide.
Ancient dweller by the shore,
Thou hast seen much bliss in lore.
Laden was the virgin Vale
In stainless gold of olden tale.
Two fair Trees they lit aglow,
Secure from dreariness and foe.
If thou rodest unto shores,
Which yonder lie, afar from lores,
Were fey mornings swift to rise
Across the lands of eerie guise.
Errands seldom lead one thither;
There hale trees are said to wither.
Grosser fable was never spoken,
For suns loom fair and good foretoken.
Laid was Arda perfect,
Void of stain and defect;
Wonder of its Wrights,
Bereft of starless nights.
Two Bastions wrought of old,
Bright and radiant as is gold;
Raised afore in blooming Spring,
Which so gladly thou shalt sing.
To implore is to pray
For godly deed in elder lay
Which be apt to stay
Wrathful act in judgement-day.
Bright Vala, save the gentile on the wave!
He who never dared to crave
Thine endless earldom past the Sea,
Which, sole, might reach this my plea.
O feeble man, so very delicate!
For thee I gravely beg, to mercy impetrate.
You shall mayhap lift the curse
That blithe fortune sways to worse,
Ere winter falls on heath;
Ere blade is drawn from sheath.
Dawns get pale and suns subside.
Yeomen till the soil and stride
Along the sullen rueful way,
Afield and flecked by scattered hay.
Son, my sprout of mirth!
Prove such gallant mannish worth!
'Tis time thou wert to unmake
This vicious yoke for Heaven's sake.
Winds shall lead thee far,
To friendly harbours devoid of scar.
There wilt thou succeed
To vanquish ghouls in valiant deed.
Let me now fare
To hallow-shires immune to wear.
Bold Noldo-sire,
Hither hast thou made
Through grinding ice and fire,
And dreary blues to wade.
Sword is drawn to battle
Thine awful ruthless foe;
Theft thy kin shall settle
By dealing harm and woe.
Before my throne I summoned thee.
Behold thy host yield and flee!
A Sea-emperor am I,
Whom lesser ones may not defy.
Fell thou art as I might be,
But foreign kings shall kneel to me,
For none is there to joust or best
This fearsome tyrant of the West.
Lo! Elvish folks tarry fain
Inside this hidden saint-domain.
We staunchly dread not seething doom,
As kindly flowers spring to bloom.
Immortals may, alack, not cure
The weariness we endure,
Unless there be a Might
That witnessed elder Light.
Which gift tookest thou,
My gentle foreign guest?
Good thou dost to bow
And not disown the Quest.
Asked was speed so queer
To bless thy heart from fear.
Three golden locks I shall entrust
As needs in dire must.
Stay thy blade! Hold the dart!
Hence I won't again depart.
Sent back was I to fight
This creeping joyless night.
Clad am I in whiteness
And likewise armed with goodness;
Pray, may the Free Folk arise:
Long they trod grim paths of lies.
Thou who bringest doom
Wilt have in bliss a room,
Where twilight never falleth
And mournful bell not tolleth.
'Tis the Golden Wood,
Sunken then in good.
The Immortal Dame shall rule its bounds
And always bless its faultless mounds.
Lay thy hand not on Gold
Which able smiths might never mould
Or shape at will through heat and cold
In countless modes and manifold.
That is no common Ring!
Sorrow-tales we seldom sing,
Where bodes so well such luring thing
We deem it just in flare to fling.
O Sunset Gem! O Evening Star!
Thou faredst through storm thus far.
Divine decree I bear to thee:
Before the Powers speak thy plea!
In holy Valmar Gods abide
With splendent Angels at their side.
Bring the word as is thy ken,
Begging ruth for Elves and Men.
Knights he mustered afield.
Drawn was sword; borne was shield.
Dismal monarch, thee have maidens mourned
And clad were dead in cloth adorned.
Thine utmost valour. Thine ardent strength.
Thou didst just to ride such length
Onto white heights of glaring stone,
Which thou hast seen at last, alone.
Raised the gruesome altar,
Men were soon to falter,
As ashes trapped the Isle
Through evil sordid guile.
Fires burst from temple's top.
Pious blood was drawn to drop.
Truth they lost and life was drained,
When Ar-Pharazôn reigned.
Sail ahead to cheerful lands.
Voyage thus to hallowed strands.
Unstained have lain the Undying Shires,
Secure from chill; away from fires.
So long, grey portentous Day!
To journeying ones we crave to say:
May we part from pending plight,
We that strive to reach the Light.
Elven-singers, Lady's joy!
Mirthful chanting not to alloy.
Worries never find a way
To Lothlórien's cheerful day.
Greens withstand and pass the ill
Of nasty Weather's grinding chill.
Maidens, grieve ye not this earthly pain
Within the Dame's pure domain.
Queen of Green; Dame of Life.
Of the Crafter potent wife.
Worlds thou hast with joy relieved
From the evils Powers grieved.
Olden song had given birth
To the Trees of countless worth.
Would thy touch bring splendour fore
On the eternal yester-shore.
O Valmar, Occident's Fortress!
Undying Temple. O Western Mistress!
Unbroken, unto plight and strife;
Unconquered, to the ruin of Life.
Thy Bells had tolled in mirth
At two saplings and Light's birth.
Thou shalt ever be in glory
In sung lays and Arda's story.
Middle-lands made of ore.
Middle-earths to the core.
Finer place thou hast not,
Fraught with mighty gallant lot.
Shadows too partake in tale
That we oft recount in wail.
Telling ruins of afore
In the shires made of ore.
Darksome King, thee woe betide!
Thy grievous name I herefore cried!
Tenson I shall have in just,
Or my blade be torn and rust.
Hark my vow! Hark my oath!
With but valour deeds I clothe.
Nasty Fiend, depart avaunt!
This my Light thou shalt not daunt.
At last thou givest way to Power!
Thunder roars. Heavens glower.
Fairest Queen I will be;
Dreadful omen bards foresee.
Savage seas I shall command,
By the shore, along the strand.
Weather I will bid to fight;
Fear the Lady's ancient Might!
Away with thee,
Vile faithless mage!
Thou art to see
Thy kindred's rage.
White am I gone back,
Sent to end this war,
Which evils sowed, alack,
And stained the stone with gore.
Five they are, ye gods!
Faring oft and wielding rods.
Age is not to mar their being;
Wit is fresh and always keen.
Unknown is wizard's utter goal.
Prime is act and worthy role
To keep the straying tides at bay,
Choosing right and arduous way.
One potent King of old
Ruled joyously and bold,
On marble-cloven throne
Inside the mountain's bone.
Above lay bright the Stone.
Of many hues it shone,
Well fairer than mere gold,
Though bearing doom to unfold.
Vanya, fairest sprout!
Skilful sage and fain devout.
Soothing verse thou shalt sing
Before the Vala's Fateful Ring.
Hither thou art come to bathe
In the Lights that ever swathe,
Behind my olden mountain-wall,
Where the Tempest shan't befall.
These cloven halls I built.
My wooden throne thou wilt
Defend to last hazard,
My gallant mighty guard.
These caverns I have filled,
So much as I had willed,
With joy and glinting treasure
To cheer my regal leisure.
Rotten lies my City now!
With valiant ones we used to endow
This faulted stone afield
And ever-high was drawn the shield.
Shreds and tatters speak of woe;
Burnt were keeps and buried low.
What might braveness wherefore yield
For the shattered mannish shield?
A song; a jolly rhyme.
Music knows to ease the clime.
Storms outside may never stay,
So do ills in elder lay.
Neither shall the Master will
Relinquish brook, dale or hill.
His is might very old
Of a time mostly untold.
The King is faint,
Yet fared a saint
So farther hither,
Where brigands slither.
A light-clad stranger
Beside a ranger,
Who brings some news
To lift Men's rues.
Fury festers wide.
Dreary chance to bide.
Battle draws so close,
Be they friends or foes.
Hearken to the cry,
Uttered very nigh
Flames and scorching ash;
Shall the blades slash!
Hark and well behold
Songs of manifold!
Spread my tiding vast
Past the roaring Blast!
Be ye Light and Hope,
Wrights of pool and slope!
Be ye Shield and War,
Guardians of my Lore!
Golden Hall, wake astir!
Rid thyself of stain and blur.
Gird thine arms with kingly stone!
To brave deed are monarchs prone.
Guileful counsel, hence thou goest;
To the snare thy vileness owest.
Traitor-mage, I shall win
Over joyless nights and sin.
In the midst of green,
Be it marred or clean,
Hides the stealthy sentry
Of the marble-gentry.
Arrows fly aloft,
Which the breezes waft
To and fro the air,
At the morning's glare.
Were it just and right
To leave the shore for Might?
Doth the Elda well,
To yearn the hallowed Dell?
Blues and mist we pass
To land on stainless grass,
Heading whither travel
Saints combating evil.
Get in front of dancing fire!
I shall fain wring my lyre.
Many stories will unveil
Good and fairness of the Tale.
Art thou merry well enough,
Within these lonely bounds of rough?
Brutish life is not thine own,
Clement Man who walk'st alone.
Fly! Soar in haste above!
Hap we need, to save my Love.
The fateful Gem we have retrieved;
Long have folks one foulness grieved.
Lo! Splendid ramparts lie
Unsullied by the sigh
Which Freedom hath despoiled,
Yet never wholly foiled.
Surrender not, my mortal Lord!
Draw such gallant silver-sword!
Heed the counsel of the Sea,
For I listen to thy Plea.
Night I see to grow tormented,
By the Villain greatly daunted;
Know that waters ever bring
Tale and sorrow to the Ring.
The Ring of Doom wherein we speak
Of Arda wounded and the Peak,
Within the Ice thou fightest vain,
Seat of Evil's waste-domain.
Go, now proceed to find
The hidden Elven-kind!
A Noldo needeth aid,
Lest his Kingdom fade.
Ruins tell the lay,
Built with ore and clay,
Of the Bridge of yore
By the thriving shore.
Hap soon bade adieu
In the mounting blue,
Bequeathing spear and blade
Which tort thenceforth made.
Earned was Mercy at the last,
Bestowed upon and justly cast,
Before the grimmest Phantom-Lord
Who speaketh nought but godly Word.
He saith that Love may chance again
To roam the world as common Men,
Until the hour draweth close
For mortal ones to weep their Rose.
Renown and fame befell
A flowered joyous dell.
Glens of jocund sort
Which Power made a fort.
A sylvan King was glad to reign;
His mighty Queen had blessed the lane.
They grandly strove to rule in rest
And spend the elder age abreast.
Thou darest holy souls
Who once the Foul smote,
Behind their mighty walls,
Abiding so remote.
Evil was in thee,
First afore the Lore.
War had crossed the sea,
To bear thy wrath ashore.
Eased were flames and chilling cold,
Placated full the yester-world.
Two great Lamps in darkness shone,
When Valar chose an Isle as throne.
All rejoiced at perfect Order,
Placed the radiance at the border.
In the core would Rule abide,
Decreeing fine the fates' tide.
We shall depart afar
With speed and lucky star,
And pass the ocean's wave
For bliss we dearly crave.
We covet endless morn
And pearls that bright adorn
The havens wrought of white,
Beside the Power's might.
Across the Gods' shield
Lie halls and hallowed field
Which sung were oft afore
In splendour evermore.
We flee the sombre life,
Strained and worn by strife.
To pain we bid farewell,
Defying vile and fell.
Sole bones, sole skull;
Ill day, made dull.
The Scourge in Ice
Hath drawn his Vice.
My weary Man,
Thee I not can
Relieve from Death
And dragon-breath.
A horrid mound,
By northern Bound,
Decried have I
In grievous sigh.
Yet weeping doth
Unveil a Path,
Through hapless Rue
In midst of blue.
A beast as large as towers.
She howls and fiercely glowers
Her enemies afield
Who donned a coat and shield.
Such tools may not avail
A rider in his mail,
For fangs lay waste to foes
And render useless bows.
Thy name I bellow loud!
I curse the stormy cloud
Which borest thou herein
And Light was nigh to win.
Within the Immortal Fief
The gate was torn by grief,
And Trees decayed too soon,
Where endless gleamed the Noon.
Pursue shall I the aberrant Foe.
A solemn Oath of rage and woe.
I speak before the King and Queen,
Be they to assist or conflict mean.
If I be ruined, if I be spent,
My prideful kin shall be content
With sole revenge and my three Gems:
Wear then your mail; take so your helms!
A clash recalled with glorious song
Is gallant deeds which fair belong
To past ordeal, to viler clime;
A bard shall make the fable rhyme.
The Noldo chanced to battle him,
About the lifeless fuming rim.
His hammer fell on pious prince,
For ever-wound to suffer since.
Below the sleepy silent fir
Are chambers vast, that fires stir.
One roar and blast of howling wind:
A golden foe! A soaring fiend!
His wings beget the future plight
For Dwarven-kin and Durin's right.
As landless lot you shall traverse,
As though on all were cast a curse.
Frigid routes shall not forgive
The unwary traveller of breeze,
Who dareth chill and algid tempest,
So wont in will to pass the contest.
'Twas deadly path of elder age,
Which godly warmth could not assuage.
Betwixt despair and ageless green,
Lay ice and frost and hopeless being.
Some rotten wetlands you will pass.
Their ponds bewitch! Their ponds harass!
An ancient battle laid that mere
With baleful ghost and wistful tear.
Proceed ahead, through vast remorse,
Which keeps the marshes ever-coarse.
Next to foulness waters lie,
Wherein all kinds their dearest cry.
He chose a fort, his hidden lair.
A den of wolf. A cave of mare.
Arisen once from frozen tomb:
A fearsome harbinger of doom.
His deathly paean sounded loud,
Borne on cruel hailing cloud.
A king of witches summons wraiths,
For last demise of bonds and faiths.
A wooden belfry burns aglow,
Stricken grave by ardent flow.
Peasants ail, mauled afire,
Forsaken lone by greedy sire.
On wings a raging drake was drawn
To reap revenge till sombre dawn,
And heavens lit were thus at night,
About the lake that dwelt in fright.
How staunchly friends remained
Beside the Bearer, almost waned.
On wasted moor; on marble-tower;
Ye battled proud agin his Power!
Humble ones succeed in faith,
Harder still than troll or wraith.
When wiser err in gross mistake,
The Little Folks in quest partake.
Thee folks much dread.
Thee woes have fed,
As illness woken,
Which fates betoken.
Thine armour beareth
Thy wrong that fareth
So vast across,
With awful loss.
Some putrid fields
Are evil shields,
Round twisted stone,
As pale as bone.
The Iron Crown
Will mankind drown
In gore and blood:
Such lethal flood!
To my plea ye hearken!
Ashes swathe and darken
Morning-dawns of grief,
Lading heavens stiff.
O my kindly boy!
Orcs much glad destroy
The unwary little one,
Unless thou be'st neath sun.
Shabby are they true
And round the Shire few,
For prone is Ranger well
To foreign gloomy dell.
Woods and glens they walk,
Yet never fond of talk
They keep their secret hidden,
Throughout these ways forbidden.
Neath the vaults of Arda's King,
Round the Vala's splendent Ring,
Doom is made by firm decree
Along the Plains of ever-glee.
Angels speak no futile word,
Yet oft arise agin the horde;
None shall dare the rightful Keeper,
Lest he be of ruin the reaper.
Bethought have we of gentle Sire,
Of flawless firmament the Star,
Perished lone amid the Fire
In kingdom tenebrous afar.
A Lance he bore to slay his foe,
Which none was able one to break;
In dauntless will he faced the Woe
Wherein he chose to fain partake.
Arisen horsemen rode to meet
Their pending fate on ruined wheat,
For fields recount a major clash,
Which left but grief atop the ash.
Shields undid and lances flung
The intrepid rider bards have sung;
In front of doom he never waived,
Since battle's gore was proudly craved.
Thinkest thou of me,
My beauty ever-merry?
Chance I now to be
In frigid lands of flurry.
Hither have we fared,
Deeming just to follow
Wrath which plain had fared
To chambers lightless-hollow.
Thee I sore regret
Not giving farewell-kiss,
For terror had us met,
Swaying all amiss.
I wherefore beg and pray
That fate be kind to allow
Loving ones to Bay
Which Elves with joy endow.
Thou wilt further not advance!
Sworn have I to spear and lance!
Here thou hast a wrathful maiden;
A like of fire, with valour laden.
Sink shall I my blade of creed
Inside thy gory fearsome steed.
Be sure of void! Be sure of doom!
Amok thou art to ever loom.
'Tis noble time we fought
Who wickedly has sought
The world to bind to chain:
His raging Fell Domain!
Awake, my tired folk!
Rains are fields to soak
In grief and drowning sorrow,
Yet bards will chant tomorrow!
A silver-father once would reign,
Ere sagas ended, killed by bane.
Before had kingdoms burnt afire,
A realm dwelt for all to admire.
His carven halls were best delight
To sylvan folks and Elven-might,
And gleaming ruled an angel-queen
A merry earldom evergreen.
Two Towers call for bloody night,
Releasing host of wolf and wight
To war commence by evening's gale:
Becoming so of lands the flail.
One is home to potent Wizard:
Tempest-master; lord of blizzard.
The other hails a darksome sire:
Upon its height is Eye on fire.
Thus longest thou to find
A way to crawl behind
The Enemy's patrol,
Where lights die and fall.
Precious, we shall aid
The Master and his Blade,
As ken we have to share
Of wraiths and fiendish lair.
Thy fat witless friend
Is not to make amend.
He saith loathsome words
Which pierce us in like swords.
He knoweth not its weight!
Its Will shall not abate!
Thy vigour will regret
The Jewel thou hast met.
Summon me,
I bid thee,
Gross delight
Of horseman's might.
In good morn
Blow the horn,
To resound
Vast around!
On my House
Shall I rouse
Oaths to swear,
Fierce as mare.
Deeds, awake!
Fine ye make
This Sire proud
To not have bowed.
Graver thou dost harm,
In the thrall of charm,
For viler of a mage
Is to fool the sage.
Bind me as thou will'st,
Fearsome iron-fist!
Nay, I shall not quail
In face of pouring hail!
Healing brought them close.
A Maid in damask-rose.
A Sentinel of reeds.
Two staunchly ardent creeds.
Upon fearless steeds
Were heralded such deeds.
Their pious swords arose
To smite lugubrious foes.
No fouler act to witness here,
Before thy coming with my Dear.
A princess lieth, cold and worn,
For all her kin to grimly mourn.
A poison-dart thou threwest sure,
At the Son ye love to core;
His mother chose to give her life,
Condemning thee to deadly strife.
I fling the culprit off the wall!
Be justice done inside my Hall!
No longer shall the Lonely City
Condone a stranger, out of pity.
May sealed remain her secret bounds,
Preserved unspoilt from bloody hounds;
I pray that future hap to tame
Nefarious demons of fell name.
I come to you,
As tides will veer;
I bring not rue,
In guise of seer.
I bear but flame
To light the way.
An ageless dame
Me woke to day.
Man! Man! Now dance in joy!
No menace, nay, shall glee alloy.
Thy King is back! Thy King is here!
Thou mayest live, devoid of fear.
Beware of blazing fearsome menace!
We do nought else, but weep and grimace.
The Drake was wrought in secret pit,
Being all unknown to Elven-wit.
A Serpent made to doom and scorch!
So vile a beast. So fell a torch.
Perhaps a Dwarf shall kill the Lizard,
When passed untouched the flaming blizzard.
In number roamed the world
And ever ravaged gold
The Orcs from elder songs
That wrought in end but wrongs.
Yet fiercer Men were there
None of Dark to spare.
In spite of lesser force,
Their will fell not for worse.
I pray thou shalt so well endure,
For love to grief is ever cure.
Besought were fates in dire day
The Boreal Foe in ice to stay.
Wert thou thyself beyond to bring,
It be on Hound or greater Wing,
The brightest Maid among the Fair
Shall evil Witch and Tyrant dare.
I find great relish into being
Beside a Spirit of the Unseen.
He gleams alight and never quails
In front of darkness haunting dales.
Radiant garments fine remind
Of olden morns, lit and kind.
His gentle powers vanquish all
That will the sinless to enthral.
Elf! Elf! Thou canst rejoice
At merry chant and mirthful voice!
The Evening Star shall tarry here,
Where reigneth proud his Ever-Dear.
Arise and part
From savage fell,
To deal a dart
To Horseman's dell!
The rider-king
From you took Land;
Thence harpers wring
In joy his band.
Their brigands crawl
As rats along,
From Golden Hall
That yeomen long.
To meagre life
Thou wast confined:
Much tiring Strife,
Thy folk to grind.
Reclaim thy moor,
Through fork and Blaze,
So shall the poor
Avenge his case!
Betiding far, in elder age,
They tell the legend of one sage.
An ageless sire; a silver-lord;
He ruled the way of green and ford.
The woodland sovereign wandered long,
Since gloomy days, recalled by song.
His queen resplendent lit the cave,
Which carven was, their realm to save.
Be thou content,
A joyous soul,
As wise recall
And rogues repent.
What maketh kings,
But dauntless ghost?
On fortune's wings
They muster host.
High-kindred ones,
Forebears and lords,
By work of lance
Ye halted hordes.
O worried Sire!
Thou art to blame
For giving flame
The chance to fire.
For leagues uncharted went and rode
The Rider come from saint-abode;
An errand led his mount beyond,
About the shore of ancient pond.
The Speaking Folk received him wary,
For shadows yet partook in story,
So Three he chose to travel yonder,
To witness Noon and Angel's Wonder.
How bold are ye!
How hard to free!
Bewail shall those
Whom seas enclose.
O Noldo, lo!
The ocean's flow
Will keep thee far
From bliss and star.
A war is fought
By those who wrought
Seditious deed
Against the creed.
Alas, thy blood
Shall wash as flood
The mortal fief
Of blue and leaf.
The Enchanted Bay I hanker for.
The gate to Noon: the Holy Shore.
I dream the Field; I dream the Plain;
I glad recall the Fair Domain.
The Vala laid his Earldom bright,
Behind the Peaks, by hallow-might.
Two Saplings grew in radiant beams,
Where deer wade anointed streams.
Aghast hath Bilbo fooled us all,
By plot unheard outside his wall;
And queerness findeth welcome place
On that unchanging guileful face.
Voices murmur of a treasure,
Stowed therein, in home of leisure,
Which past adventure once had made
A kingly trophy not to fade.
Come in, my toilsome lot!
Will ye yourselves to rot?
Abroad are perils prying
And many squires lying.
What bringeth you herein,
For grace or earthly sin?
Hither voyage chaps
Drawing but mishaps.
Some speak of eerie dullness
In the nights' scaring fullness,
But seldom have I reckoned
That phantoms one hath beckoned.
My little friends, ye need not hear
This town's whisper; a silly smear.
Get forth ahead to find restore,
Once passed beyond the tavern-door.
Finer post thou hast not!
Rid thyself of woeful thought!
The able merchants here reside:
So great a folk, who rivers ride.
The lake is ever gentle giver.
Of fortune grand he was the weaver.
Yet painful past is hard to go,
As wooden tops were all aglow.
Her black foundations lie
Far under into dry
And cursed benighted kingdom:
The devil's dreadful fiefdom.
His forts on wastelands tower.
His guardians ever glower.
Upon her height burns the Eye,
Wreathed in flame and warring cry.
O wailing stricken teller!
Thy stone to thee was feller.
Harps thou wrungest fain
To sing the Elder Bane.
About the strand thou wast
To mourn the fight ye lost,
For blues and sheer remorse
Have cast away thy force.
Thou wilt voyage unto end,
Bereft of trusted friend,
Since Wizards travel lone
And never toil bemoan.
Allies might thee doubt,
Yet ever-firm and stout
The Envoy shall remain,
In verity and pain.
Fine vernal days ahead,
Or frigid months instead,
Await thy rapid pace
Among the talking race.
A Rod thou bear'st in hand,
Thy spell aright to send;
If enemies be near,
They bolted quick in fear.
I dream of cheerful spring.
I dream of robin's wing.
I covet green and sloe
Which thrive by brooks' flow.
I long to thither go,
Whereto breezes blow,
Once unmade the Ring
That augurs ill to bring.
A walk on frozen waste,
Untrodden by the Child,
Evoketh grim distaste
In measure seldom mild.
The route of chilling vice
Thou journey shalt across;
The sheer deadly Ice
Will sure demand thy loss.
Guileful piping doth deceive,
Apt for wrongs to ever weave
As a web, wrought in lie;
As a song, broad to fly.
Whispers carry thee asleep.
Wit to sanity shall keep.
Alas, the Willow feareth none,
But the Lord of hill and fun.
I would thou foughtest best
To swarming hordes contest,
For Dwarven-kings we need
Who proud resisted greed.
Such battle thou hast won,
However spent and gone;
Upon my arm, I saw thee wane:
As mourning swan declined thy reign.
May foretelling sway the course.
Onslaught shall beget remorse.
Watch the boiling Sea torment,
Drawn by Mariner's lament!
Smith, hearken clear:
Thou wilt perish, quoth the Seer!
By the glowing Elvish blade
Are the Princes bound to fade.
Precious gift I shall thee hand;
One I love and well commend.
Use it wisely, I beseech!
Orcs remember it and screech.
It is to shine at nearest foe,
Lighter much than wooden bow.
Its iron goeth through deceit,
If Hobbits be my Sting to greet.
He vowed to avenge the Theft,
Of craftsmanship bereft.
He swore to free his Kin,
Distraught and scheming sin.
Come, marine Folk of mine!
I summon thee to answer fine.
Thou hither fared'st in daunting march,
Beneath the virgin heaven-arch.
I dwell below the raging Wave;
I know the abyss and ocean's cave.
Tempest I in wrath command
Agin the coast of deathly Land.
'Tis time thou wert to sail
Through guileful stormy gale,
Across the foaming Blue
Which once salvation drew.
Aboard a vessel, hewn from trees,
Shalt thou voyage livid seas.
I will sing and teach the art,
To make thee wright and hence depart.
Poring over scripture
Records might unveil,
During fey adventure
Under holly-dale.
Chambers keep a book,
Whither exiles fled;
Fortune mine forsook,
Leaving hopeless dead.
I name you heroes, last defender;
Along a wasteland shall ye wander.
I would it were to destine fine,
This grimmest task and quest of thine.
I shan't implore for pity.
Battling's my duty.
Thee, o fetid Orc,
I'll hoist on wooden fork.
The Pucelle of Heath
Shall remove the sheath,
Wielding thus her blade,
Drawn by lissom Maid.
Disdaining woodland folk
Therefore rancour woke
Among the secret kin,
Fond of hearth or inn.
Yet errands brought them close;
Two former bitter foes.
They trod the world along
To so repair the wrong.
I dreamt a world in shreds
And its unravelled threads.
It sank! It fell! It broke asunder!
Ye gods, alack, it bent to founder.
Fairer homelands we shall seek,
If we chance enough to wreak
Novel wonders on the land
That we strive to render grand.
How dare'st thou offend,
My dragon-wit to rend?
How dare the Heir reclaim
My kingdom, marred by flame?
I here am the Lord!
My fang is potent sword!
I breathe demise! I blast the Thief!
Of earthly banes I am the chief!
I come at lightless night
To rescue mage in right,
While walking past the ruin
Of so perfidious doing.
Wraith, now surrender!
Stone I break and sunder.
Shadow, oath I vow:
Fear the Queen of Bough!
A jolly novice at my will?
You shall amuse and goblets fill.
I want my jester to forget
The woeful magnitude of threat.
Tell some lore of distant shire,
Some I miss and much admire!
Rekindle ears to merry times,
Before we suffer fouler climes!
Cupidity and folly
Shall hardly make thee jolly.
The fortunes of a king
May dwindle, so we sing.
Some desire sundry stones,
Turning friends in utter bones.
Others burrow well below,
Unto biding dormant foe.
Three Bearers of afore
To future mankind's Lore
Have bidden grand farewell,
Pursuing Valmar's Bell.
Say, o stranger:
Art thou a ranger?
Art thou a fiend
Amid fell wind?
This hamlet, nay,
Is no free way
For all to take
In staying or break.
I will, aye,
For peril's nigh,
Thy business mind
And speak unkind.
That homely inn,
Concealing sin,
Thy scope may aid
And not by blade.
You must be twice your age,
As astute a mage.
You must have gone to war
In older winter's lore.
Filthy minion of the Eye,
Men have gone beyond the lie
Which bound us all to grave deceit,
Until the King had kindled wit.
We march abreast to end the war,
Should mankind's fate be sunk in gore;
We battle doom and utter slaves
Whom shadows nurture, deep in caves.
Keep so fair a stone,
Testament of Noon.
Thou shalt sit on throne,
Striking darkness swoon!
I shall vanquish wanton ogre:
'Tis a promise by the sword!
Though my ranks have dwindled meagre,
Ever-true I keep such word!
How grand a liege could I deceive?
My counsel aideth those who grieve.
If lesser man thou deemest me,
I did aught else but worry thee.
The skilful wizard is to lend
His precious art we all commend,
Should horse-lords heed his good advice
Which none of kings rejected thrice.
You're only fiend and guileful slave
Who kingly friendship was to crave,
Whereas I fell in wicked sleep,
Akin to foe around my keep!
No fool am I to trust you more,
For treason drives your tongue at core;
My rusting blade has will to find
So cunning one, deceitful mind.
May hap the day! May hap the light!
The Angel's deed is ever-right.
They not forsook the writhing earth:
To pristine lamps was given birth!
A sun arose agin the dark
To kindle flower, field, and bark,
Until the bough is made content
And nowhere uttered is lament.
Couth and gentle guest,
Secret I detest.
Tell me, now, I ask:
What do strangers mask?
Mine is jolly inn,
Apt indeed for grin.
Tell me, how may one
Disappear in fun?
Nay, my buoyant keeper,
You shall dig no deeper.
Your eyes were also fooled,
Once gleaming hearth had cooled.
The Hobbit has no word,
Nor could again afford
To suffer devious mind
And face the man unkind.
Who art thou, if I may?
I know not, nor I say.
Trees are rare to waste a speech;
Tell me, pilgrim, I beseech.
The Little Folk? That is queer.
We but axes only fear,
And the Wizard dwelling west,
Whom I wish to rightly best.
Huge the statues grew,
Overhead and sound,
Signifying the true
Realm's outer bound.
Mankind all rejoiced
At the solemn craft,
Willing fain to hoist
Kingly sword and haft.
So foul encounter in the wood.
He greeted her; he gently stood.
A darkling dweller of the reed
Who cherished night and silent deed.
He was of greyer, eerie kind;
A very insidious of a mind.
He loathed the Princes of the West
And ever hid from great unrest.
Come am I! I will to parley.
To dare the Eye is utter folly.
In the Black Land heroes fall,
Bent by chain: caught in thrall.
Fairer being I not recall.
Lit she kindled Elwë's hall.
Sung were odes and pious words,
Entertaining mighty lords.
Death elected such a maid:
Why doth beauty ever fade?
Yet her heart she gave to one:
Lovers have the night undone.
A riddle swayed my route thus here:
I need to pry in pain and tear.
Serve me ale, o kindly dame!
I am to read much grievous fame.
The Ring was dear to feeble crown;
It slew a king. It tore him down.
That hidden ken is lore of lays
And secret told by sparking blaze.
Make it thine, candid fellow!
Wield it firm in lightless hollow!
Thou shalt chance to challenge peril,
Under strain and snare of evil.
Crimson ruby, fail me not;
Russet hope, aid his lot!
Wear is not to hinder him:
Fill the wizard with thy vim!
Half a Man, half an Elf,
On a quest he set himself
For the freeing of the world,
That the Tyrant rendered cold.
Half a dead, half a living,
Won the Mariner forgiving;
Yet to heaven flew the Saint,
Up above mundane restraint.
O starlit Isle of glory!
I chant in awe such story
Which Sovereigns made bereft
Of cowardice and theft,
Until a fiendish Priest,
Among thy court the least,
Had murdered creeds on pyre,
Bestirring Manwë's ire!
Give me reason to forgive!
Thine is creeping deed at eve!
Tell me, wretch, I beseech:
Why crawlest thou as leech?
Here is iron of thy ken!
Speak the truth, ghost of fen!
'Tis a glowing Elvish blade
Which the Ancient Era made.
Uncanny, bright divinity,
I hail you Phantom's Trinity,
Whom spirits impetrate
Past Valmar's godly gate.
Dawn shall take you all,
My vicious fetid troll!
May the pristine day
Turn the brute to clay!
Begone! Away!
Me spare, I pray!
No wight in barrow
Shall give us morrow.
Well remote is a land,
Off the merry Elven-strand,
Where the banished set a keep:
Vaults were carven in the deep.
Aye, that is labour of my kind!
None of skill the King may find
To rival such archaic wonder
Among the arts ye mastered yonder.
What might a pallid day of Spring
Agin the sorrow Winters bring?
She were, perhaps, a ghoul to fell;
This sturdy Maiden, brave Pucelle.