Ai! Laurië lantar lassi súrinen.



This is a Letter

"Ai! Laurië lantar lassi súrinen,yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!

Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier mi oromardi lissë-miruvóreva Andúnë pella, Vardo tellumar nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni ómaryo airetári-lírinen.

Sí man i yulma nin enquantuva? An sí Tintallë Varda Oiolossëo ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë ar sindanóriello caita mornië i falmalinnar imbë met, ar hísië untúpa Calaciryo míri oialë.

Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar! Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar! Nai elyë hiruva! Namárië!"

That which I 'oft hear The Lady sing, at nightfall, upon her flet and at the fount at it's base. It is of the Elder Language, of Quenya; one that is seldom spoken; yet one that I know. In the tongue of the Sindar, I will not speak; but the translation to Westron I here give.

"Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as the wings of trees! The long years have passed like swift draughts of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West, beneath the blue vaults of Varda wherein the stars tremble in the voice of her song, holy and queenly.

Who now shall refill the cup for me? For now the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of the stars, from Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds and all paths are drowned deep in shadow; and out of a grey country darkness lies on the foaming waves between us, and mist covers the jewels of Calacirya for ever.

Now lost, lost to those of the East is Valimar! Farewell!

Maybe thou shalt find Valimar! Maybe even thou shalt find it! Farewell!"