Thent a Lend
Mi ndôr palan-thoren
Sui tinúviel glîr a lend nellad
Gael bain elleth sui elin Varda
Athan aear lim linnad lastam
Lúthien the fair stood dark and tall
Within Elven land, she was loved by all
Then mortal man was led astray
Who would suppose he would be in her heart to stay?
Thingol King wanted not for her to be mortal
Under this heart, he lay a threat
For he held his daughter high above all peril
For Lúthien's love, a Silmaril was there to recover yet
Within dark hours, Lúthien wept
For Beren was lost, and her heart, unkempt
Beneath the shadow creapt a thought
Lúthien would worry her father with this, but she thought naught
Escape from the tree-house, upon Huan
Yet another task was this lady's bane
Light from Doriath was now long gone
Dearest Lúthien did not wax nor wane
Long this story goes, yet not untold
For we who dwell here still remember
Singing sweetly this lore of old
Last Niphredil fading in sweet September
None know where Beren and Lúthien now do lay
But here fell the shadow and long passed the light,
Yet it does not sway
Over those who wander to edge of night
