Edain 4.7.2 veröffentlicht! / Edain 4.7.2 released!
I sense, I feel it in the wind:He comes, the chilling dreadful Fiend.He's leading hordes towards the KeepTo raze our shack and fort and deep;The laughing hamlet stays and quails:Here is a demon, chief of flails.To scourge the moor and wreak despairThe Witch emerged from frigid lair:His blade ordains the Ice to freezeWhatever dare survive the breeze.Men are frail and wont to rise,Ridding lands of tort and lies,For usurpers covet crownsAnd devour faithful towns.In the meantime Snow descends,Dooming all, foes and friends!Once a Phantom lay in tomb,While our gardens were to bloom;Now the Spectre plans assault,Reaping strength from human fault.
The wild decayed RouteIs tiresome on footAnd evenly uncouthFor nostril, tongue, or mouth.Tumults witnessed waysIn ancestral days,When the Ring-lord struckElven-smiths, alack!Aye, we lost a kingdom!Nay, it wasn't wisdom!Drawing Might from goldHadn't made them bold.Dark was cast on paths,Thenceforth swarmed by rats;Home to nasty beings.Stone to smithereens.O ancient Road in ruin!How happed your own undoing?I doubt the unwary strangerCould ever grasp the danger.
Time was ripe; the hour came.Men of Shadow set aflameKindred ones, round the vale:Proud defenders watching Dale.'Twas a fragment of the war,During sad occurring lore;Sundry forces rallied thither:"Marshal arms! Muster hither!"Dwarven-trumpet shook the air;Warriors promised foes to bear.Tolled the bell and worsened fates:"Here is bloody clash at gates!"Eastern raiders flooded all,Drawn to riches in the hall.In face of peril, bonds endured;Anew withdrew the Wicked Lord.The King, alas, was not to seeHis land retrieved and fraught with glee,For regal courage held the door,But triumph, then, demanded gore.
Lo! Ranks of Elven-kin descend,So rash, indeed, without amend,Yet treading down the jewel-stairOf Kôr the Old, immensely fair.We may not say what them befell;We dread the void about the Bell!Light hath waned, waking shadowsInto green and faultless meadows.Algid gales roar and batter.Mountains quake; cities shatter.Loud bewailing teareth skies,Lading strand and bay with cries.Vala, hearken wisely to the prayer;Save thine Earldom from this Mare!Free thy kingdom! Rid the Bound!Mourners weep upon the Mound.
Thou dost my bidding, I ordain!Bring me light of Elder Reign.A beryl lieth by North accursed:Among the gems prime and first.I hold it great, the Stone supreme,Such that thee shall full redeem!Made it was afore the dawn,Yonder west in endless morn,By craft of Wright; by ardent will.Disgrace had marred the Silmaril!Astute pretender, take the Jewel!It is to be an utmost duel.Man of cunning, voyage thither!Seek the plains doomed to wither.Farther lead thine errand swift,Crossing wastelands left adrift,Unto gates of ill device:Hewn were chambers in the ice.Thus my Love shall be thine own:Lissom Princess; grace of throne.
They shall all fleeIn front of tree,For branches warAnd hatred store.A green enraged,Which clash has waged,Is marching now:Such fearsome bough!The wood demandsThat field and landsBe under lawAverting flaw.The forest cried:"No time to bide!"Their roots will chokeWho felled the oak."O bane of fir!I stomp you, cur!Be cursed the dayOrcs trod this way!"
Thence we sailed to land on Bliss,Knowing prows lead not amiss,For an art the Angel taught:'Twas a vessel, grandly wrought!Many ships in quiet modeYearned for holy saint-abode,In the hour of the Antique,Void of anger, grudge, and pique.Sea-elves parted from the Isle,That later wisemen would beguile,When sages harbours gross mistookBy lack of ken, and distant look.At tide's command we crossed the straitWhither kinship marched of late,In search of novel home ashore,Out of Paradise's door.Marine and gracious Fowls were keenOn ferrying boat and deathless beingTo fiefdoms governed by the High:Eternal fortress! Hallow-belfry.
Time? What time is made to rest?My friend elected pipe and fest,Among their brutishness enjoyingThe rustic taste of folk's alloying.Gandalf, bid adieu to party-fires!How may mages rove in mires?Ride to me; I bear a sign!Rid yourself of fetid swine.At the summit of my towerStricken have me Blaze and Power,Through the olden Seeing StoneWhich enquire I alone.Grandness, wreathed in furious cloud,Where the Black Tongue sounds aloudFrom the ogre and the wraith:Owed to him is villain's faith.Why should sorcerers opposeCountless legions, pikes, and bows?Ought we him to promptly stay,Combating victors of this lay?
The Errant Knight of GondorHath trodden wood and field;Before the gates of MordorHe raised his mighty shield.The Heir and rightful SireShall lead his folk in war,Though hamlets burn afireAnd Men bewail their lore.O valiant Chevalier!We would thou wert to win.Thus prophesied the seer:Thou art to mend our sin.Thy regal blood of kingsIs relic of an age,Afore prodigious RingsAnd advent of the Mage.Yester-lords were fearedBy the savage land,And each vessel veeredTo Númenor, the Grand.
Leave me scarring grief to singTo the imprudent and the fool:All are tied to Ruling RingAs a worthless utter tool.Blame you not this my Precious,Kindly Master from the Shire;Shadow's minions deem it viciousTo torment the unlucky squire.Aye, so foul a devil-king!Upon decay the Demon reigns!I beheld his monstrous wingOrder vilest deed and banes.Only chain my spoils have knownDown the dungeon of doom,Wherein had Evil laid a throneIn the bleakness of the gloom.Yet a favour I might do,Having skill for dire case,So the Hobbits journey throughDuring darker sunless days.
O frail besotted peace!Why rannest thou amiss?I would we dwelt in gladness,Content and full of richness.A Leader squires craveTo pass unspoilt the waveWhich Evil lured within:Affray we may not win.If Crown were on the head,In fainting Steward's stead,Of brave majestic King:Would troubadour well sing!
'Twas battle to lay bareThat never-ending flareWhich flaming malice fedWith mischief, lie, and dread."Thy bastion I throw down!The water shall thee drown!"Eönwë split the yokeOf blighted hither-folk.
The fitter rascal of us twoHath made the Continent anewA radiant home to dove and lark,Upon the lively willow-bark.The wary Hobbit won the praiseFrom King and Lord of yester-days,Belonging each to every kindThat Eru moulded by his mind.Yet victor lost to woeful throes.Among our merriment and sloes,The Bearer fancied he might fareAcross the Blue: beyond the scare.
My beloved, caring father,Every storm I were to weatherFor the honour of my House;War and wrath I might arouse.I shall make thee worthy treasure,Crossing reckoning and measure.Let my hand hew from oreFateful Gems, pride of lore.
The greater man doth not desistFrom fain contesting evil East,And loud shall blow the gallant horn,If Men's defence by strain be worn.An even finer guard of reedWill kindle hope in noble deed,For kindness beareth worthy sword,When sparing lives and wading ford.