Written here is a song composed beneath the darkling boughs of Mirkwood, whilst Aduialant walked alone on a scouting misson to the south. She might be found at evening sharing it with her Silvan kindred, who often sing and dance in the glow of firelight. But most days she sings alone beneath the trees, lamenting the beauty of a world long lost.
How vast is the memory of trees!
Their roots stretching out across the ground,
Leaves and tendrils numerous as the glowing stars!
If only we could speak to them now,
as the folk of the Elder Days knew to do,
What might we learn from their stories?
What might they whisper with long sad sighs,
Their breath on the floating wind?
How long is the memory of the mountains,
Their roots stuck strong into the deep black earth,
peaks reaching upward toward the glowing stars!
If only they had throats to sing to us,
To tell us what makes them shudder in the night..
What might we do with that knowledge
Given from such ancient protectors?
How great is the memory of the sea!
The tides and eddies swift-flowing,
ever rolling beneath the glowing stars!
If only we could understand the howls and roars
Of the waves, calling to us, begging us, come home!
What might we find there, upon the hither shore?
Is the memory of that land as keen as that of Arda?
