Song

Lament of a Rider

1. The Rider’s Journey

~The Song of Tinnurion~

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From fair free lands, from far froathy waters - wreathing, rounding rocks - the wayward wind comes a-writhing

From dankest dells, from dim deeps - drowneds’ dusky dwelling - it’s shadow spins a solemn story, now screaming shrilly, now sleeping soundly

”Come o wanderer-wind, come tell thine thrilling tidings!”

As I walked out o'er the Greenway Bridge on a misty morning early,

I overheard a fair pretty maid cryin' for the life of her Geordie.

'Saddle me a milk-white steed, bridle me a pony,'

'And I'll ride down to yon Bree-town to plead for the life of my Geordie.'

When she came to the courthouse steps, the watchmen there were many

She's passed them each a bright gold coin, so they'd let her walk in for her Geordie. 

'He never stole a mule or a mare, he never murdered any.'

A song recently heard in a tavern in Dale, accompanied by a simple, a slow but upbeat tune played on a lute by a foreigner.

The lass I love lives far away,

O'er mountains, through the wood,

How many miles I cannot say,

I’d be there now if I could.

Her skin is pale her hair is red,

Like fire in the evening light, 

I only wish to be in bed,

Beside her on this very night.

Her eyes they glisten pale and blue,

Each a bright and dazzling star,

The meeting of Melian and Thingol is the inspiration for this song. It is sung both in Rivendell and Lothlórien, as well as other places, when honouring the descendants of those two.

This song is relatively new, by Elven standards, and has its origin in Rivendell where it can sometimes be heard in the Hall of Fire.

It is said that this song was first written down in Doriath and should be attributed to Daeron, though that might be conjecture.

O sweet woods, the delight of solitariness,
O how much do I love your solitariness.

This song was composed on Tol Eressëa and taught to the men of Westernesse ere the Downfall. It tells of how Arien descends with Anor, the Sun, beyond the Pelóri and rests on the surface of the Outer Sea, before the servants of Ulmo draw them underneath the Earth to the East where they rise again.

Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heav'n's Sun doth gently waste.