Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work. The song is "S' Fagaim mo Bhaile", by Enya, translated from Gaelic into English. This is my first fan-fiction, so please review.
This account is from the perspective of an elf that followed Fingolfin at the time of the Flight of the Noldor.
Morning and the day's beginning
And I leave my home
My heart is breaking
My youth is long past
Darkness has fallen. The beloved Laurelin and Telperion are destroyed, the Trees of Silver and Gold, most beautiful and glorious of all the treasures of the Earth; the hallowed light of Valinor is no more. Night is upon us. Morgoth has prevailed, bringing sorrow and woe to all the inhabitants of Aman. Our hearts are heavy for this grievous loss, and I fear that Fëanor has kindled the hearts of the Noldor to madness. His words were rash and proud; sweet in the mouth but bitter in the belly. Yet we in our haste and despair followed after him, though we knew not what lay ahead.
Our folly has led us to a fall, and I do not know if things will ever be the same. We have disregarded the herald of Manwë, slain our brethren at Alqualondë and stolen their precious ships, and given no heed to the dark prophecy of Mandos. By Fëanor and his sons we were betrayed, even by own our kindred. Far off in the distance we watched the burning of the white-swan ships of the Teleri; the firstfruit of our rebellion. The Noldor are sundered.
Night
and I am alone
Endless deep black skies
Remembering days that
were
Without want and without gloom
I listen to the
wind
Endless great loneliness forever
The passage over Helcaraxë was difficult and long. Many did not make it, and were lost forever to the cruel waters. My family has perished. Yet we continued the journey, out of necessity, our hearts numb with grief. Our bodies are weak, but not broken.
Sorrow follows us like a shadow. We are exiles; forsaken by beast and bird and quendi(1) alike. Here I stand, upon the shore of Endor, wide and vast. All of it means nothing without happiness. Our freedom has been gained, but at what price? The end has not justified the means. No longer may we find any rest in the world. Alas, it seems our fate.
The
end of the long journey
I am sad, sorrowful, broken
After me
there will be no more (of my kind)
But children, it is our destiny
In a single day all of our joy and bliss is gone. It is all ruined. I see no hope for my people, and I fear that all we do will in the end come to naught. Though we shed tears unnumbered, our remorse may not be enough.
The
day is long past
When
I left my home
There
is no hope in my heart
There
is only death.
(1) Quendi
here refers to all who speak, ie. sentient beings, not merely the elves.