02. The song of Eldamar

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.

There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,
While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
O Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.

But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?
O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.


(Originally named "Galadriel's Song of Eldamar" by Tolkien)


03. Misty Mountains

Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere break of day
To seek the pale enchanted gold.
The dwarves of yore made mightly spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sward.
On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.
Far over the misty mountains cold
To dungeouns deep and caverns old
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold; where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.
The pines were roaring on the height,
(The pines were roaring on the height)
The winds were moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
(The fire was red, it flaming spread)
The trees like torches blazed with light.
The bells were ringing in the dale
(The bells were ringing in the dale)
And men looked up with faces pale;
The dragon's ire more fierce than fire
(The dragon's ire more fierce than fire)
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
(The mountain smoked beneath the moon)
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall to dying fall
(They fled their hall to dying fall)
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the misty mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

The pines were roaring on the height,
(The pines were roaring on the height)
The winds were moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
(The fire was red, it flaming spread)
The trees like torches blazed with light.
The bells were ringing in the dale
(The bells were ringing in the dale)
And men looked up with faces pale;
The dragon's ire more fierce than fire
(The dragon's ire more fierce than fire)
Laid low their towers and houses frail.


(Originally named "Dwarven Song About Old Wealth" by Tolkien)


04. Mithrandir

From Wilderland to Western shore,
from northern waste to southern hill
through dragon-lair and hidden door
and darkling woods he walked at will.

With Dwarves and Hobbits, Elves and Men,
with mortal and immortal folk,
with bird on bough and beast in den,
in their own secret tongues he spoke.

A deadly sword, a healing hand,
a back that bent beneath its load;
a trumpet-voice, a burning brand,
a weary pilgrim on the road.

A lord of wisdom throned he sat,
swift in anger, quick to laugh;
an old man in a battered hat
who leaned upon a thorny staff.

With Dwarves and Hobbits, Elves and Men,
with mortal and immortal folk,
with bird on bough and beast in den,
in their own secret tongues he spoke.

From Wilderland to Western shore,
from northern waste to southern hill
through dragon-lair and hidden door
and darkling woods he walked at will.

(Originally named "Frodo's Reminescence of Gandalf" by Tolkien)


06. Dragon's Lair

The wind was on the withered heath,
but in the forest stirred no leaf:
there shadows lay by night and day,
and dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold,
and like a tide it roared and rolled;
the branches groaned, the forest moaned,
and leaves were laid upon the mould.

The wind went on from West to East;
all movement in the forest ceased,
but shrill and harsh across the marsh
its whistling voices were released.

It left the world and took its flight
over the wide seas of the night,
The moon set sail upon the gale,
and stars were fanned to leaping light.

The grasses hissed, their tassles bent,
the reeds were rattling - on it went
o'er shaken pool under the heavens cool
where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the lonely Mountain bare
and swept above the dragon's lair:
there black and dark lay boulders stark
and flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight
over the wide seas of the night,
The moon set sail upon the gale,
and stars were fanned to leaping light.


(Originally named "Dwarven Song of Wind" by Tolkien)


07. The King's Triumph

Under the Mountain dark and tall
The King has come unto his hall!
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,
And ever so his foes shall fall.
The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong;
The heart is bold that looks on gold;
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.
The dwarves of yore made mightly spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.
On silver necklaces they strung
The light of stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of harps they wrung.
The mountain throne once more is freed!
O! wandering folk, the summons heed!
Come haste! Come haste! across the waste!
The king of friend and kin has need.
Now call we over mountains cold,
'Come back unto the caverns old'!
Here at the Gates the king awaits,
His hands are rich with gems and gold.
The king is come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall.
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,
And ever so our foes shall fall!

(Originally named "Song for The King Under the Mountain" by Tolkien)