Here lies a proprechy once sang by a minstrel in the Vally of Rivendell.
Thus a maid shall flee
The starlit valley of song and dance
The last home of the Eldar will see
The day a maid holds a blade
Strong and free.
By her side the beloved Elloen, elven-wise,
Knowing spirit high and kind
Of a ruined elven-home.
He who knows much of the land
And the ways hidden from the eyes of mortal men.
There two jewels will shine,
Like starts upon Rildheldiel’s brow
Bound by tender love they are;
Yet they will follow the maid to barren land
And darkling caverns old.
Ilviel the fairest, Alquadis they call her
Knows many magics and reader of ancient runes,
Will not leave her friend’s side.
With her will ride Avarand most valiant
Beloved by the dearest heart
His blade keen, spirit bright
Will ride like the dawn of a night.
And they rumour,
A mortal soul shall follow,
Through forest deep, cavern dark,
Alazarn of Gondor will ride beside the fair folk.
In the Halls of Fire there sits a lord
A falcon on his shoulder,
Hammer mighty by his side, cracks stones asunder.
Many-a-bearers the Hammer has
All mighty warriors of the elvenesse
The last fading fires of battle,
Like stars on the dawn’s shoulder.
There he gives many-a-counsel, a commander great amongst the Noldor;
Bound to the Swan-lord by oath and fate
Lies his life with virtue and honour.
There at this night words were exchanged,
At last she understood
That there were no waves to crush the warrior’s will;
So she abode to his commands and ways.
Yet the lord said: “Few changed our courses by counsel, none by force.”
Then he ordered his hound to call to his servant.
Now I shall tell you of this Hound,
Many believe naught lies within him
Yet let me tell you, too much of darkness he has seen.
And faced it all with a once soul fair
His suffering is not to be told by any word
Nor a song or tale may contain all the grief.
Thus the Hound bays and howls amongst the Hammers,
Fear you, enemies of the Noldor of those fangs that bite deep.
A warrior of old was called to counsel,
His hair raven black, hands steady and stong;
With skill even beyond the arts of war
A defender of Himring, the mighty warrior Ancalasse.
Thus he walked into the Hall and stood before his commander
Orders given, words taken, they waited until dawn.
At first light, the blades started singing,
Young day shined upon steel
The master and the apprentince stood on the riverbank
With her young life much to learn from his
Days of ancient battle and noble deeds.
