Author's Note: This Idea came to me while I was compiling a list of sindarin phrases for me to use in everyday life
More will come soon. Hopefully. I hope you enjoy.
The Poems of Arwen Udomiel, Queen of Gondor
Translated from the Sindarin tongue by
Curulaer, Scribe of the Tower of Minas Anor;
of the court of Eldarion, son of the Elfstone.
Compiled in the year 4.A. 221
These first poems were written during the last year of the third age, as Lord Aragorn fought the forces of Annatar in Rohan and the realm of Gondor. During Lord Aragorn's absence, the lady Arwen, Evenstar of the West, resided in Imladris, Rivendell, the haven and last homely house that has all but faded away. During this time, she fell under the reign of the shadow.
Buial Promise
So this is how it is:
Promises made under
the sanctity of Tilion's vessel
and the stars that Elbereth wrought
evanesce into bitter nothingness
leaving a hallow here, in my heart.
So it was:
A promise that shadow
would fall under your mighty boot
and that the glory of the white tree
might be brought to light.
A broken sword twice broken
lies over your chest.
Upon it, my tears linger
into unfading time.
Shall I pass unto the west
with these tears ever lingering
upon my brow?
Man tôg? Who leads?
Who leads the warriors
with shining sword and sundering spear
as they march across the grasslands?
Who leads the maidens
as they bake and tend the children;
trying to ignore the flames
as they draw near their door?
Who leads those who lead;
the less hopeful; those who
cannot see Earendil's glimmer
in the east?
Who will lead the Valar's gaze
toward these hither lands
once all is consumed in flame?
Le govannen hí na 'lass You are welcome here
Awaiting
your footsteps
upon the stone path
leading t'ward this house,
beyond the reach of your hand,
but never, I hope, beyond
the reach of your heart
You are welcome
ever here.
Garo 'lass a lalaith Have Joy and Laughter
These eyes wander at dusk toward the east,
looking for a sign of hope, of peace.
But no! Such emotions only linger in the hidden west,
to the east, only sorrow, the shadow I detest.
My eyes can no longer find you
beyond the mountains hitherto.
My eyes can no longer see
what will be.
Let me do my part:
leave your shadows upon my weary heart,
and find the light,
so my heart might find delight.
Hîr vuin My Lord
Oh! How I desire
to raise a blade and
fight by your side.
But I rest here
in the hidden city
bound by chains
unseen.
I am…
unfit to raise a sword;
my heart swims only
in this misery of yours.
This spirit fails
this body crumbles
Save me,
my lord.