Song of
Durin's Awakening
The world
world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet
on the Moon was seen,
No words were
laid on stream or stone,
When Durin
woke and walked alone.
He named the
nameless hills and dells;
He drank from
yet untasted wells;
He stooped and
looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a
crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a
silver thread,
Above the
shadow of his head.
The world was
fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days
before the fall
Of mighty
Kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin,
who now beyond
The Western
Seas have passed away:
The world was
fair in Durin's Day.
A king he was
on carven throne
In
many-pillared halls of stone
With golden
roof and silver floor,
And runes of
power upon the door.
The light of sun
and star and moon
In shining
lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by
cloud or shade of night
There shown
forever far and bright.
There hammer
on the anvil smote,
There chisel
clove, and graver wrote;
There forged
was bladed and bound was hilt;
The delver mined
the mason built.
There beryl,
pearl, and opal pale
And metel
wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and
corslet, axe and sword,
And shining
spears were laid in horde.
Unwearied then
were Durin's folk;
Beneath the
mountains music woke:
The harpers harped,
the minstrels sang,
And at the
gates the trumpets rang.
The world is
grey, the mountains old,
The forge's
fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is
wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness
dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow
lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in
Khazad-dûm.
But still the
sunken stars appear
In dark and
windless Mirrormere;
There lies his
crown in water deep,
Till Durin
wakes again from sleep.
Rings of Power
Three Rings
for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the
Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for
Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the
Dark Lord on his dark throne,
In the Land of
Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to
rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to
bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of
Mordor where the Shadows lie.
The Road Goes
Ever On
The Road goes
ever on and on
Out from the
door where it began.
Now far ahead
the Road has gone,
Let others
follow it who can!
Let them a
journey new begin,
But I at last
with weary feet
Will turn towards
the lighted inn,
My
evening-rest and sleep to meet.
Travelling
Song
Upon the
hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the
roof there is a bed;
But not yet
weary are our feet,
Still round
the corner we may meet
A sudden tree
or standing stone
That none have
seen but we alone.
Tree and
flower, leaf and grass,
Let them pass!
Let them pass!
Hill and water
under sky,
Pass them by!
Pass them by!
Still round
the corner there may wait
A new road or
a secret gate,
And though we
pass them by today,
Tomorrow we
may come this way
And take the
hidden paths that run
Towards the
Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn,
and nut and sloe,
Let them go!
Let them go!
Sand and stone
and pool and dell,
Fare you well!
Fare you well!
Home is
behind, the world ahead,
And there are
many paths to tread
Through
shadows to the edge of night,
Until the
stars are all alight.
Then world
behind and home ahead,
We'll wander
back to home and bed.
Mist and
twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall
fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp
and meat and bread,
And then to
bed! And then to bed!
Song of
Nimrodel
An Elven-maid
there was of old,
A shining star
by day:
Her mantle
white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of
silver-grey.
A star was
bound upon her brows,
A loght was on
her hair
As sun upon
the golden boughs
In
Lórien the fair.
Her hair was
long, her limbs were white,
And fair she
was and free;
And in the
wind she went as light
As leaf of
linden-tree.
Beside the
falls of Nimrodel,
By water clear
and cool,
Her voice as
falling silver fell
Into the
shining pool.
Where now she
wanders none can tell,
In sunlight or
in shade;
For lost of
yore was Nimrodel
And in the
mountains strayed.
The elven-ship
in haven grey
Beneath the
mountain-lee
Awaited her
for many a day
Beside the
roaring sea.
A wind by
night in Northern lands
Arose, and
loud it cried,
And drove the
ship from elven-strands
Across the
streaming tide.
When dawn came
dim the land was lost,
The mountains
sinking grey
Beyond the
heaving waves that tossed
Their plumes
of blinding spray.
Amroth beheld
the fading shore
Now low beyond
the swell,
And cursed the
faithless ship that bore
Him far from
Nimrodel.
Of old he was
an Elven-king,
A lord of tree
and glen,
When golden
were the boughs in spring
In fair
Lothlórien.
From helm to
sea they saw him leap,
As arrow from
the string,
And dive into
water deep,
As mew upon
the wing.
The wind was
in his flowing hair,
The foam about
him shone;
Afar they saw
him strong and fair
Go riding like
a swan.
But from the
West has come no word,
And on the Hither
Shore
No tidings
Elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth
evermore.
Elven Hymn to
Elbereth
Snow-white!
Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O Queen beyond
the Western Seas!
O Light to us
that wander here
Amid the world
of woven trees!
Gilthoniel! O
Elbereth!
Clear are thy
eyes and bright thy breath!
Snow-white!
Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land
beyond the Sea.
O stars that
in the Sunless Year
With shining
hand by her were sown,
In windy
fields now bright and clear
We see your
silver blossom blown!
O Elbereth!
Gilthoniel!
We still
remember, we who dwell
In this far
land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight
on the Western Seas.
A Elbereth
Gilthoniel,
silivren penna
míriel
o menel aglar
elenath!
Na-chaered
palan-díriel
o galadhremmin
ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, si
nef aearon!
A Elbereth
Gilthoniel!
o menel
palan-díriel
le nallon
sí di'nguruthos!
A tiro nin,
Fanuilos!
A! Elbereth
Gilthoniel!
silivren penna
míriel
o menel aglar
elenath!
We still
remember, we who dwell
In this far
land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight
on the Western Seas.
Frodo's
Reminescence of Gandalf
When evening
in the Shire was grey
his footsteps
on the Hill were heard;
before the
dawn he went away
on journey
long without a word.
From
Wilderland to Western shore,
form northern
waste to southern hill
through
dragon-lair and hidden door
and darkling
woods he walked at will.
With Dwarves
and Hobbits, Elves and Men,
with mortal
and immortal folk,
with bird on
bough and beast in den,
in their own
secret tounges he spoke.
A deadly
sword, a healing hand,
a back that
bent beneath its load;
a
trumpet-voice, a burning brand,
a weary
pilgrim on the road.
A lord of
wisdom throned he sat,
swift in
anger, quick to laugh;
an old man in
a battered hat
who leaned
upon a thorny staff.
He stood upon
the bridge alone
and Fire and
Shadow both defied;
his staff was
broken on the stone,
in
Khazad-dûm his wisdom died.
Samwise:
The finest
rockets ever seen:
they burst
instars of blue and green,
or after
thunder golden showers
came falling
like a rain of flowers.
Galadriel's
Song of Eldamar
I sang of
leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I
sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.
Beyond the
Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the
strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the
stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar
beside the walls of Elven Tirion.
There long the
golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,
While here
beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
O
Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are
falling in the stream, the River flows away.
O
Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a
fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
But if of ships
I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship
would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?
Ai!
laurië lantar lassi súrinen,
Yéni
únótimë ve rámar aldaron!
Yéni ve
lintë yuldar avánier
mi oromardi
lisse-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.
Nail elyë
hiryva. Namárië!
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
song of her voice, 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 from the East is Valimar!
Farewell!
Maybe thou shalt find Valimar.
Maybe even
thou shalt find it. Farewell!
A Drinking
Song
Ho! Ho! Ho! to
the bottle I go
To heal my
heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall
and wind may blow,
And many miles
be still to go,
But under a tall
tree I will lie,
And let the
clouds go sailing by.
Death Song to
Boromir
Aragorn:
Through Rohan
over fen and field where the long grass
grows
The West Wind
comes walking, and about the walls it
goes.
'What news
from the West, O wandering wind, do you
bring to me
tonight?
Have you seen
Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?'
'I saw him
ride over seven streams, over waters wide
and grey;
I saw him walk
in empty lands, until he passed away
Into the
shadows of the North. I saw him then no more.
The North Wind
may have heard the horn of the son of
Denethor.'
'O Boromir!
From the high walls westward I looked
afar,
But you came
not from the empty lands where no men
are.'
Legolas:
From the
mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies, from
the sandhills and
the stones;
The wailing of
the gulls it bears, and at the gate it
moans.
'What news
from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring
to me at eve?
Where now is
Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve.'
'Ask not of me
where he doth dwell -- so many bones
there lie
On the white
shores and the dark shores under the
stormy sky;
So many have
passed down Anduin to find the flowing
Sea.
Ask of the
North Wind news of them the North Wind
sends to me!'
'O Boromir!
Beyond the gate the seaward road runs
south,
But you came
not with the ailing gulls from the grey
sea's mouth.'
Aragorn:
From the Gate
of Kings the North Wind rides, and past
the roaring
falls;
And clear and
cold about the tower its loud horn calls.
'What news
from the North, O mighty wind, do you
bring to me
today?
What news of
Boromir the Bold? For he is long away.'
'Beneath Amon
Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he
fought.
His cloven
shield, his broken sword, they do the water
brought.
His head so
proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid
to rest;
And Rauros,
golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its
breast.'
'O Boromir!
The Tower of Guard shall ever northward
gaze
To Rauros,
golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days.'
Bath Song
Sing hey! for
the bath at close of day
That washes
the weary mud away!
A loon is he
that will not sing:
O! Water Hot
is anoble thing!
O! Sweet is
the sound of falling rain.
and the brook
that leaps from hill to plain;
but better
than rain or rippling streams
is Water Hot
that smokes and steams.
O! Water cold we
may pour at need
down a thirsty
throat and be glad indeed;
but better is
Beer, if drink we lack,
and Water Hot
poured down the back.
O! Water is
fair that leaps on high
in a fountain
white beneath the sky;
but never did
fountain sound so sweet
as splashing
Hot Water with my feet!
Farewell Song
of the Elves
Farewell we
call to hearth and hall!
Though wind
may blow and rain may fall,
We must away
ere break of day
Far over wood
and mountain tall.
To Rivendell,
where Elves yet dwell
In glades
beneath the misty fell,
Through moor
and waste we ride in haste,
And whither
then we cannot tell.
With foes
ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the
sky shall be our bed,
Until at last
our toil be passed,
Our journey
done, our errand sped.
We must away!
We must away!
We ride before
the break of day!
Frodo's
Encuraging Song
O! Wanderers
in the shadowed land
depair not!
For though dark they stand,
all woods
there be must end at last,
and see the
open sun go past:
the setting
sun, the rising sun,
the day's end,
or the day begun.
For east or
west all woods must fail...
Aragorn's Song
of Gondor
Gondor!
Gondor, between the Mountains and the Sea!
West Wind blew
there; the light upon the Silver Tree
Fell like
bright rain in gardens of the Kings of old.
O proud walls!
White towers! O wingéd crown and
throne of
gold!
O Gondor,
Gondor! Shall Men behold the Silver Tree,
Or West Wind
blow again between the Mountains and the Sea?
Fangorn's Song
of Lore
Learn now the
lore of Living Creatures!
First name the
four, the free peoples:
Eldest of all,
the elf-children;
Dwarf the
delver, dark are his houses;
Ent the
earthborn, old as mountains;
Man the
mortal, master of horses:
Beaver the
builder, buck the leaper,
Bear
bee-hunter, boar the fighter;
Hound is
hungry, hare is fearful...
Eagle in
eyrie, ox in pasture,
Hart
horn-crownéd; hawk is swiftest,
Swan the
whitest, serpent coldest....
Tom Bombadil's
Song
Now let the song
begin! Let us sing together
Of sun, stars,
moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
Light on the
budding leaf, dew on the feather,
Wind on the open
hill, bells on the heather,
Reeds by the
shady pool, lilies on the water:
Old Tom Bombadil
and the River-daughter!
Old Tom Bombadil
is a merry fellow;
Bright blue his jacket
is, and his boots are yellow.
green were his
girdle and his breeches all of leather;
he wore in his
tall hat a swan-wing feather.
He lived up under
Hill, where the Withywindle
ran from a grassy
well down into the dingle.
Hey! Come merry
dol! derry dol! My darling!
Light goes the
weather-wind and the feathered starling.
Down along under
Hill, shining in the sunlight,
Waiting on the
doorstep for the cold starlight,
There my pretty
lady is, River-woman's daughter,
Slender as the
willow-wand, clearer than the water.
Old Tom Bombadil
water-lilies bringing
Comes hopping
home again. Can you hear him singing?
Hey! Come merry
dol! derry dol! and merry-o,
Goldberry,
Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!
Poor old
Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!
Tom's in a hurry
now. Evening will follow day.
Tom's going home
home again water-lilies bringing.
Hey! come derry
dol! Can you hear me singing?
Hop along, my
little friends, up the Withywindle!
Tom's going on
ahead candles for to kindle.
Down west sinks
the Sun: soon you will be groping.
When the
night-shadows fall, then the door will open,
Out of the
window-panes light will twinkle yellow.
Fear no alder
black! Heed no hoary willow!
Fear neither root
nor bough! Tom goes on before you.
Hey now! merry dol!
We'll be waiting for you!
Fangorn's
Reminescence Song
In the
willow-meads of Tasarinan I walked in the
Spring.
Ah! the sight
and the smell of the Spring in Nan-
tasarion!
And I said
that was good.
I wandered in
Summer in the elm-woods of Ossiriand.
Ah! the light
and the music in the Summer by the
Seven Rivers
of Ossir!
And I thought
that was best.
To the beeches
of Neldoreth I came in the Autumn.
Ah! the gold
and the red and the sighing of leaves in the
Autumn in
Taur-na-neldor!
It was more
than my desire.
To the
pine-trees upon the highland of Dorthonion I
climbed in the
Winter.
Ah! the wind
and the whiteness and the black branches
of Winter upon
Orod-na-Thön!
My voice went
up and sang in the sky.
And now all
those lands lie under the wave,
And I walk in
Ambarona, in Tauremorna, in Aldalómë,
In my own
land, in the country of Fangorn,
Where the
roots are long,
And the years
lie thicker than the leaves
In
Tauremornalómeë.
The Ent and
the Ent-wife
ENT:
When Spring unfolds
the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough;
When light is
on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow;
When stride is
long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain-air,
Come back to
me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair!
ENTWIFE:
When Spring is
come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade;
When blossom
like a shining snow is on the orchard laid;
When shower
and Sun upon the Earth with fragrance fill the air,
I'll linger
here, and will not come, because my land is fair.
ENT:
When Summer
lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold
Beneath the
roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold;
When woodland
halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West,
Come back to
me! Come back to me, and say my land is best!
ENTWIFE:
When Summer
warms the hanging fruit and burns the berry brown;
When straw is
gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town;
When honey
spills, and apple swells, though wind be in the West,
I'll linger
here beneath the Sun, because my land is best!
ENT:
When Winter
comes, the winter wild that hill and wood shall slay;
When trees
shall fall and starless night devour the sunless day;
When wind is
in the deadly East, then in the bitter rain
I'll look for
thee, and call to thee; I'll come to thee again!
ENTWIFE:
When Winter
comes, and singing ends; when darkness falls at last;
When broken is
the barren bough, and light and labour past;
I'll look for
thee, and wait for thee, until we meet again:
Together we
will tkae the road beneath the bitter rain!
BOTH:
Together we
will take the road that leads into the West,
And far away
will find a land where both our hearts may rest.
Song About
Athelas
When the black
breath blows
and death's
shadow grows
and all lights
pass,
come athelas!
come athelas!
Life to the dying
In the king's
hand lying!
Song About
Fifteen 'Birds'
Fifteen birds
in five firtrees,
their feathers
were fanned in a fiery breeze!
But, funny
little birds, they had no wings!
O what shall
we do with the funny little things?
Roast 'em alive,
or stew them in a pot;
fry them, boil
them and eat them hot?
Burn, burn
tree and fern!
Shrivel and
scorch! A fizzling torch
To light the
night for our delight,
Ya hey!
Bake and toast
'em, fry and roast 'em!
till beards
blaze, and eyes glaze;
till hair
smells and skins crack,
fat melts, and
bones black
in cinders lie
beneath the
sky!
So dwarves
shall die,
and light the
night for our delight,
Ya hey!
Ya-harri-hey!
Ya hoy!
Boromir's
Riddle
Seek for the
Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it
dwells;
There shall be
counsels taken
Stronger than
Morgul-spells.
There shall be
shown a token
That Doom is
near at hand,
For Isildur's
Bane shall waken,
And the
Halfling forth shall stand.
Washing Song
Chip the
glasses and crack the plates!
Blunt the
knives and bend the forks!
That's what
Bilbo Baggins hates-
Smash the
bottles and burn the corks!
Cut the cloth
and tread on the fat!
Pour the milk
on the pantry floor!
Leave the
bones on the bedroom mat!
Splash the
wine on every door!
Dump the
crocks in a boiling bowl;
Pound them up
with a thumping pole;
And when
you've finished, if any are whole,
Send them down
the hall to roll!
That's what
Bilbo Baggins hates!
So carefully!
carefully with the plates!
Goblin's Song
for Prisoners
Clap! Snap!
the black crack!
Grip, grab!
Pinch, nab!
And down down
to Goblin-town
You go, my
lad!
Clash, crash!
Crush, smash!
Hammer and
tongs! Knocker and gongs!
Pound, pound,
far underground!
Ho, ho, my
lad!
Swish, smack!
Whip crack!
Batter and
beat! Yammer and bleat!
Work, work! Nor
dare to shirk,
While Goblins
quaff, and Goblins laugh,
Round and
round far underground
Below, my lad!
Curse of the
Gost from Barrow-downs
Cold be hand
and heart and bone,
and cold be
sleep under stone:
never more to
wake on stony bed,
never, till
the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black
wind the stars shall die,
and still on
gold here let them lie,
till the dark
lord lifts his hand
over dead sea
and withered land.
Sam's Song at
the Doorstep of Cirith Ungol
In western
lands beneath the Sun
the flowers
may rise in Spring,
the trees may
bud, the waters run,
the merry
finches sing.
Or there maybe
'tis cloudless night
and swaying
beeches bear
the
Elven-stars as jewels white
amid their
branching hair.
Though here at
journey's end I lie
in darkness
buried deep,
beyond all
towers strong and high,
beyond all
mountains steep,
above all
shadows rides the Sun
and Stars for
ever dwell:
I will not say
the Day is done,
nor bid the
Stars farewell.
Aragorn's Song
About the Oathbreakers
Over the land
there lies a long shadow,
westward
reaching wings of darkness.
The Tower
trembles; to the tombs of kings
doom
approaches. The Dead awaken;
for the hour
is come for the oathbreakers;
at the Stone
of Erech they shall stand again
and hear there
a horn in the hills ringing.
Whose shall
the horn be? Who shall call them
from the grey
twilight, the forgotten people?
The heir of
him to whom the oath they swore.
From the North
shall he come, need shall drive him:
he shall pass
the Door to the Paths of the Dead.
Welcoming Song
of Elves
O! What are
you doing,
And where are
you going?
Your ponies
need shoeing!
The river is
flowing!
O!
tra-la-la-lally
here down in
the valley!
O! What are
you seeking,
And where are
you making?
The faggots
are reeking,
The bannocks
are baking!
O!
tril-lil-lil-lolly
the valley is
jolly,
ha! ha!
O! Where are
you going
With beards
all a-wagging?
No knowing, no
knowing
What brings
Mister Baggins,
And Balin and
Dwalin
down into the
valley
in June
ha! ha!
O! Will you be
staying,
Or will you be
flying?
Your ponies
are straying!
The daylight
is dying!
To fly would
be folly,
To stay would
be jolly
And listen and
hark
Till the end
of the dark
to our tune
ha! ha!
Merry Song
Afther Smaugs Death
The dragon is
withered, His bones are now crumbled;
His armour is
shivered, His splendour is humbled!
Though sword
shall be rusted,
And throne and
crown perish
With strength
that men trusted
And wealth
that they cheerish,
Here grass is
still growing,
And leaves are
yet swinging,
The white water
flowing,
And elves are
yet singing
Come!
Tra-la-la-lally!
Come back to
the valley!
The stars are
far brighter
Than gems
without measure,
The moon is
far whiter
Than silver in
treasure:
The fire is
more shining
On hearth in
the gloaming
Than gold won by
mining,
So why go
a-roaming?
O!
Tra-la-la-lally
Come back to
the Valley.
O! Where are
you going,
So late in
returning?
The river is
flowing,
The stars are
all burning!
O! Whither so
laden,
So sad and so
dreary?
Here elf and
elf-maiden
Now welcome
the weary
With
Tra-la-la-lally
Come back to
the Valley,
Tra-la-la-lally
Fa-la-la-lally
Fa-la!
Song of
Eärendil
Eärendil
was a mariner
that tarried
in Arvernien;
he built a
boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil
to journey in;
her sails he
wove of silver fair,
of silver were
her lanterns made,
her prow was
fashioned like a swan,
and light upon
her banners laid.
In panoply of
ancient kings,
in chained
rings he armoured him;
his shining
shield was scored with runes
to ward all
wounds and harm from him;
his bow was
made of dragon-horn,
his arrows
shorn of ebony,
of silver was
his habergeon,
his scabbard
of chalcedony;
his sword of
steel was valiant,
of adamant his
helmet tall,
an eagle-plume
upon his crest,
upon his
breast an emerald.
Beneath the
Moon and under star
he wandered
far from northern strands,
bewildered on
enchanted ways
beyond the
days of mortal lands.
From gnashing
of the Narrow Ice
where shadow
lies on frozen hills,
from nether
heats and burning waste
he turned in
haste, and roving still
on starless waters
far astray
at last he
came to Night of Naught,
and passed,
and never sight he saw
of shining
shore nor light he sought.
The winds of
wrath came driving him,
and blindly in
the foam he fled
from west to
east and errandless,
unheralded he
homeward sped.
There flying
Elwing came to him,
and flame was
in the darkness lit;
more bright
than light of diamond
the fire upon
her carcanet.
The Silmaril
she bound on him
and crowned
him with the living light
and dauntless
then with burning brow
he turned his
prow; and in the night
from
Otherworld beyond the Sea
there strong
and free a storm arose,
a wind of
power in Tarmenel;
by paths that
seldom mortal goes
his boat it
bore with biting breath
as might of
death across the grey
and
long-forsaken seas distressed:
from east to
west he passed away.
Through
Evernight he back was borne
on black and
roaring waves that ran
o'er leagues
unlit and foundered shores
that drowned
before the Days began,
until he heard
on strands of pearl
where ends the
world the music long,
where
ever-foaming billows roll
the yellow
gold and jewels wan.
He saw the
Mountain silent rise
where twilight
lies upon the knees
of Valinor,
and Eldamar
beheld afar
beyond the seas.
A wanderer
escaped from night
to haven white
he came at last,
to Elvenhome
the green and fair
where keen the
air, where pale as glass
beneath the
Hill of Ilmarin
a-glimmer in
valley sheer
the lamplit
towers of Tirion
are mirrored
on the Shadowmere.
He tarried
there from errantry,
and melodies
they taught to him,
and sages old
him marvels told,
and harps of
gold they brought to him.
They clothed
him then in elven-white,
and seven
lights before him sent,
as through the
Calacirian
to hidden land
forlorn he went.
He came unto
the timeless halls
where shining fall
the countless years,
and endless
reigns the Elder King
in Ilmarin on
Mountain sheer;
and words
unheard were spoken then
of folk of Men
and Elven-kin.
Beyond the
world were visions showed
forbid to
those that dwell therein.
A ship then
new they built for him
of mithril and
of elven-glass
with shining
prow; no shaven oar
nor sail she
bore on silver mast:
the Silmaril
as lantern light
and banner
bright with living flame
to gleam
thereon by Elbereth
herself was
set, who thither came
and wings
immortal made for him,
and laid on
him undying doom,
to sail the
shoreless skies and come
behind the Sun
and light of Moon.
From
Evereven's lofty hills
where softly
silver fountains fall
his wings him
bore, a wandering light,
beyond the
mighty Mountain Wall.
From World's
End then he turned away,
and yearned
again to find afar
his home
through shadows journeying,
and burning as
an island star
on high above
the mists he came,
a distant
flame before the Sun,
a wonder ere
the waking dawn
where grey the
Norland waters run.
And over
Middle-earth he passed
and heard at
last the weeping sore
of women and
of elven-maids
in Elder Days,
in years of yore.
But on him
mighty doom was laid,
till Moon
should fade, an orbéd star
to pass, and
tarry never more
on Hither
Shores where mortals are;
for ever still
a herald on
an errand that
should never rest
to bear his
shining lamp afar,
the Flammifer
of Westernesse.
The Ents'
Marching Song
We come, we
come with roll of drum: ta-runda runda runda rom!
We come, we
come with horn and drum: ta-runa runa runa rom!
To Isengard!
Though Isengard be ringed and barred with doors of stone;
Though
Isengard be strong and hard, as cold as stone and bare as bone,
We go, we go,
we go to war, to hew the stone and break the door;
For bole and
bough are burning now, the furnace roars - we go to war!
To land of
gloom with tramp of doom, with roll of drum, we come, we come;
To Isengard
with doom we come!
With doom we
come, with doom we come!
Eomer's Song
Out of doubt,
out of dark to the day's rising
I came singing
in the sun, sword unsheathing.
To hope's end
I rode and to heart's breaking:
Now for wrath,
now for ruin and a red nightfall!
Bilbo's Song
in Rivendel
I sit beside
the fire and think
of all that I
have seen,
of
meadow-flowers and butterflies
in summers
that have been;
Of yellow
leaves and gossamer
in autumns
that there were,
with morning
mist and silver sun
and wind upon
my hair.
I sit beside
the fire and think
of how the
world will be
when winter
comes without a spring
that I shall ever
see.
For still
there are so many things
that I have
never seen:
in every wood
and every spring
there is
adifferent green.
I sit beside
the fire and think
of people long
ago,
and people who
will see a world
that I shall
never know.
But all the
while I sit and think
of times there
were before,
I listen for
returning feet
and voices at
the door.
Gollum's Song
in the Dead Marshes
The cold hard
lands
they bites our
hands,
they gnaws our
feet.
The rocks and
stones
are like old
bones
all bare of
meat.
But stream and
pool
is wet and
cool:
so nice for
feet!
And now we
wish -
Alive without
breath;
as cold as
death;
never
thirsting, ever drinking
clad in mail,
never clinking.
Drowns on dry
land,
thinks an
island
is a mountain;
thinks a
fountain
is a puff of
air.
So sleek, so
fair!
What a joy to
meet!
We only wish
to catch a
fish,
so
juicy-sweet!
Gandalf's Song
of Galadriel
In Dwimordene,
in Lórien
Seldom have
walked the feet of Men,
Few mortal
eyes have seen the light
That lies
there ever, long and bright.
Galadriel!
Galadriel!
Clear is the
water of your well;
White is the
star in your white hand;
Unmarred,
unstained is leaf and land
In Dwimordene,
in Lórien
More fair than
thoughts of Mortal Men.
The Story of
The Grey to The White
He who walked
with ghosts so grey,
And Hobbits
and Elves so gay,
He was one of
every kind,
An Elf, a
Steward, a counter of time.
He fell to
doom, under fire so bright,
Of Evil
creature of the Night,
Who is not
told to come from Light,
But from the
Evil Darkness, bright,
As bright as
Jet, as cold as Ice,
It did not
know of the Right.
He fought it
with the flame so cold,
Against hot
breath it would not fold,
But he knew
his friends were standing there,
They would die
if he did not care,
So he smote
the bridge,
With his
strong Staff,
And he did
fall into night so black,
And fire so
red,
With the Evil
creature of the night.
It would not
fight, but fled away,
To stairs of
Grey,
That lead to
mountain peak,
Where the
creature of the Night,
Turned to fight,
but to no avail,
For it fell,
to death on the snow,
And He had won
the day,
and sat on
hill, so grey,
When Eagle
came through the Night.
And when he
was ready, did the Eagle say,
"Ever am
I fated to carry thee,
from Mountain
Top to Golden Tree,
But still I
will carry you,
My light
feather of Whitend dew."
To this He did
replie,
"Yes, it
is now that I wish for Golden Tree,
To find my
friends, with thee,
for you have
carried me so far,
I wish for
no-one else."
So He was
carried to Golden Tree,
By Eagle
quick, and fast through sky,
And there was
dressed in dazeling white,
Then he came
to where His friends had lately been,
But now they
had moved on down running stream,
Towards the
Never-Ending Darkness,
That was
Mordor, where the shadows lie.
He quicken his
pace,
As he walked
after his friends,
Through woods
so old, like records of time,
To his friends
now three not nine,
To help the
King of the Golden Hall,
In times of
need, when a beggar sits on a stall,
To council the
King, into Evil paths.
He threw down
the Evil councillor,
And banished
him, from the land,
Then to the
battles in the West he did fly,
And brought
the secret Huorns,
To the rescue
of the King,
In the
fortress of Protection,
And when the
King was free,
he travelled
to Isengard.
Then He did
brake the Staff of the Evil Wizard,
Who had left
the Path of Truth,
To the Evil
ways of the Enemy,
Then He was
truly White,
the most
powerful of them all,
Elf, Man, and
Wizard.
Song of The
Fall of Gil-galad
Gil-galad was
an Elven-king.
Of him the
harpers sadly sing:
the last whose
realm was fair and free
between the
Mountains and the Sea.
His sword was
long, his lance was keen,
his shining
helm afar was seen;
the countless
stars of heaven's field
were mirrored
in his silver shield.
But long ago
he rode away,
and where he
dwelleth none can say;
for into
darkness fell his star
in Mordor
where the shadows are.
Tom Bombadil's
Song
Tom Bombadil:
Hey dol! merry
dol! ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong! hop
along! fal lal the willow!
Tom Bom, jolly
Tom, Tom Bombadillo!
Hey! Come merry
dol! derry dol! My darling!
Light goes the
weather-wind and the feathered starling.
Down along under
Hill, shining in the sunlight,
Waiting on the
doorstep for the cold starlight,
There my pretty lady
is, River-woman's daughter,
Slender as the
willow-wand, clearer than the water.
Old Tom Bombadil
water-lilies bringing
Comes hopping
home again. Can you hear him singing?
Hey! Come merry
dol! derry dol! and merry-o,
Goldberry,
Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!
Poor old
Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!
Tom's in a hurry
now. Evening will follow day.
Tom's going home
home again water-lilies bringing.
Hey! come derry
dol! Can you hear me singing?
Hop along, my
little friends, up the Withywindle!
Tom's going on
ahead candles for to kindle.
Down west sinks
the Sun: soon you will be groping.
When the
night-shadows fall, then the door will open,
Out of the
window-panes light will twinkle yellow.
Fear no alder
black! Heed no hoary willow!
Fear neither root
nor bough! Tom goes on before you.
Hey now! merry
dol! We'll be waiting for you!
Hey! Come derry
dol! Hop along, my hearties!
Hobbits! Ponies
all! We are fond of parties.
Now let the fun
begin! Let us sing together!
Goldberry:
Now let the song
begin! Let us sing together
Of sun, stars,
moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
Light on the
budding leaf, dew on the feather,
Wind on the open
hill, bells on the heather,
Reads by the
shady pool, lilies on the water:
Old Tom Bombadil
and the River-daughter!
Tom Bombadil:
O slender as a
willow-wand! O clearer than clear water!
O reed by the
living pool! Fair river-daughter!
O spring-time and
summer-time, and spring again after!
O wind on the
waterfall, and the leaves' laughter!
Old Tom Bombadil
is a merry fellow;
Bright blue his
jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
Praise the
Halflings
Long live the
Halflings! Praise them with great praise!
Cuio i
Pheriain anann! Aglar'ni Pheriannath!
Praise them
sith great praise, Frodo and Samwise!
Daur a
Berhael, Conin en Annun! Eglerio!
Praise them!
Eglerio!
A laita te,
laita te! Andave laituvalmet!
Praise them!
Cormacolindor,
a laita tarienna!
Praise them!
The ring-bearers, praise them with great praise!
Bilbo's Last
Song (At the Grey Havens)
Day is ended, dim
my eyes,
but journey
long before me lies.
Farewell,
friends! I hear the call.
The ship's
beside the stony wall.
Foam is white
and waves are grey;
beyond the
sunset leads my way.
Foam is salt,
the wind is free;
I hear the
rising of the Sea.
Farewell, friends!
The sails are set,
the wind is
east, the moorings fret.
Shadows long
before me lie,
beneath the
ever-bending sky,
but islands
lie behind the Sun
that I shall
raise ere all is done;
lands there
are to west of West,
where night is
quiet and sleep is rest.
Guided by the
Lonely Star,
beyond the
utmost harbour-bar,
I'll find the
heavens fair and free,
and beaches of
the Starlit Sea.
Ship, my ship!
I seek the West,
and fields and
mountains ever blest.
Farewell to
Middle-earth at last.
I see the Star
above my mast!
Song About
Green Fields of Lebennin
Silver flow
the streams from Celos to Erui
In the green
fields of Lebennin!
Tall grows the
grass there. In the wind from the Sea
The white
lilies sway,
And the golden
bells are shaken of mallos and alfirin
In the green
fields of Lebennin,
In the wind
from the Sea!
The Lays Of
Beleriand: The lay of Leithian: XII
In that vast
shadow once of yore
Fingolfin
stood: his shield he bore
with field of
heaven's blue and star
of crystal
shining pale afar.
In
overmastering wrath and hate
desperate he
smote upon that gate,
the Gnomish
king, there standing lone,
while endless
fortresses of stone
engulfed the
thin clear ringing keen
of silver horn
on baldric green.
His hopeless
challenge dauntless cried
Fingolfin
there: 'Come, open wide,
dark king, you
ghatsly brazen doors!
Come forth,
whom earth and heaven abhors!
Come forth, O
monstruous craven lord,
and fight with
thine own hand and sword,
thou wielder
of hosts of banded thralls,
thou tyrant
leaguered with strong walls,
thou foe of
Gods and elvish race!
I wait thee
here. Come! Show thy face!'
Then Morgoth
came. For the last time
in those great
wars he dared to climb
from
subterranean throne profound,
the rumour of
his feet a sound
of rumbling
earthquake underground.
Black-armoured,
towering, iron-crowned
he issued
forth; his mighty shield
a vast
unblazoned sable field
with shadow
like a thundercloud;
and o'er the
gleaming king it bowed,
as huge aloft
like mace he hurled
that hammer of
the underworld,
Grond.
Clanging to ground it tumbled
down like a
thunder-bolt, and crumbled
the rocks
beneath it; smoke up-started,
a pit yawned,
and a fire darted.
Fingolfin like
a shooting light
beneath a
cloud, a stab of white,
sprang then
aside, and Ringil drew
like ice that
gleameth cold and blue,
his sword
devised of elvish skill
to pierce the
flesh with deadly chill.
With seven
wounds it rent his foe,
and seven
mighty cries of woe
rang in the
mountains, and the earth quook,
and Angband's trembling
armies shook.
Yet Orcs would
after laughing tell
of the duel at
the gates of hell;
though elvish
song thereof was made
ere this but
one - when sad was laid
the mighty
king in barrow high
and Thorndor,
Eagle of the sky,
the dreadful
tidings brought and told
to mourning
Elfinesse of old.
Thrice was
Fingolfin with great blows
to his knees
beaten, thrice he rose
still leaping
up beneath the cloud
aloft to hold
star-shining, proud,
his stricken
shield, his sundered helm,
that dark nor
might could overwhelm
till all the
earth was burst and rent
in pits about
him. He was spent.
His feet
stumbled. He fell to wreck
upon the
ground, and on his neck
a foot like
rooted hills was set,
and he was
crushed - not conquered yet;
one last
despairing stroke he gave:
the mighty
foot pale Ringil clave
about the
heel, and black the blood
gushed as from
smoking fount in flood.
Halt goes for
ever from that stroke
great Morgoth;
but the king he broke,
and would have
hewn and mangled thrown
to wolves devouring.
Lo! from throne
that
Manwë bade him build on high,
on peak
unscaled beneath the sky,
Morgoth to
watch, now down there swooped
Thorndor the
King of Eagles, stooped,
and rending
beak of gold he smote
in Bauglir's
face, then up did float
on pinions
thirty fathoms wide
bearing away,
though loud they cried,
the mighty
corse, the elven-king;
and where the
mountains make a ring
far to the
south about that plain
where after
Gondolin did reign,
embattled
city, at great height
upon a dizzy
snowcap white
in mounded
cairn the mighty dead
he laid upon
the mountain's head.
Never Orc nor
demon after dared
that pass to
climb, o'er which they stared
Fingolfin's
high and holy tomb,
till
Gondolin's appointed doom.
Bilbo Song to
Lazy Lob and Crazy Cob
Lazy Lob and
crazy Cob
are weaving
webs to wind me.
I am far more
sweet than other meat,
but still they
cannot find me!
Here am I,
naughty little fly;
you are fat
and lazy.
You cannot
trap me, though you try,
in your
cobwebs crazy.
Gandalf's Song
of Lórien
In Dwimordene,
in Lórien
Seldom have
walked the feet of Men,
Few mortal
eyes have seen the light
That lies
there ever, long and bright.
Galadriel!
Galadriel!
Clear is the
water of your well;
White is the
stasr in your white hand;
Unmarred,
unstained is leaf and land
In Dwimordene,
in Lórien
More fair than
thoughts of Mortal Men.
Riding of the
Rohirrim
From dark
Dunharrow in the dim morning
with thane and
captain rode Thengel's son:
to Edoras he
came, the ancient halls
of the
Mark-wardens mist-enshrouded;
golden timbers
were in gloom mantled.
Farewell he
bade to his free people,
hearth and
high-seat, and the hallowed places,
where long he
had feasted ere the light faded.
Forth rode the
king, fear behind him,
fate before
him. Fealty kept he;
oaths he had
taken, all fulfilled them.
Forth rode
Théoden. five nights and days
east and
onward rode the Eorlingas
through Folde
and Fenmarch and the Firienwood,
six thousand
spears to Sunlending,
Mundburg the
mighty under Mindolluin,
Sea-kings;
city in the South-kingdom
foe-beleaguered,
fire-encircled.
Doom drove
them on. Darkness took them,
horse and
horseman; hoofbeats afar
sank into
silence; so the songs tell us.
'Merry Inn'
Song
There is an
inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old
grey hill,
And there they
brew a beer so brown
That the Man
in the Moon himself came down
one night to
drink his fill.
The ostler has
a tipsy cat
that plays a
five-stringed fiddle;
And up and
down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking
high, now purring low,
now sawing in
the middle.
The landlord keeps
a little dog
that is mighty
fond of jokes;
When there's
good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an
ear at all the jests
and laughs
until he chokes.
They also keep
a hornéd cow
as proud as
any queen;
But music
turns her head like ale,
And makes her
wave her tufted tail
and dance upon
the green.
And O! the
rows of silver dishes
and the store
of silver spoons!
For Sunday
there's a special pair,
And these they
polish up with care
on Saturday
afternoons.
The Man in the
Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began
to wail;
A dish and a
spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the
garden madly pranced,
and the little
dog chased his tail.
The Man in the
Moon took another mug,
and rolled
beneath his chair;
And there he
dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the
sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was
in the air.
Then the
ostler said to his tipsy cat:
"The
white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and
champ their silver bits;
But their
master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll
be rising soon!"
So the cat on
his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that
would wake the dead:
He squeaked
and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the
landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
"It's
after three!" he said.
They rolled
the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled
him into the Moon,
While his
horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow
came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran
up with the spoon.
Now quicker
the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began
to roar,
The cow and
the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all
bounded from their beds
and danced
upon the floor.
With a ping
and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped
over the Moon,
And the little
dog laughed to see such fun,
And the
Saturday dish went off at a run
with the
silver Sunday spoon.
The round Moon
rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun
raised up her head.
She hardly
believed her fiery eyes;
For though it
was day, to her suprise
they all went
back to bed.
Galadriel's
Messages
Where now are
the Dúnedain, Elessar, Elessar?
Why do thy
kinsfolk wander afar?
Near is the
hour when the Lost should come forth,
And the Grey
Company ride form the North,
But dark is
the path appointed to thee:
The Dead watch
the road that leads to the Sea.
Legolas
Greenleaf, long under tree
In joy thou
hast lived. Beware of the Sea!
If thou
hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,
Thy heart
shall then rest in the forest no more.
To Gimli son
of Glóin, give his Lady's greeting.
Lockbearer,
wherever thou goes my thought goes with thee.
But have a
care to lay thine axe to the right tree!
Song for The
King Under the Mountain
Under the
Mountain dark and tall
The King has
come unto his hall!
His foe is
dead, the Worm of Dread,
And ever so
his foes shall fall.
The sword is
sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow
swift, the Gate is strong;
The heart is
bold that looks on gold;
The dwarves no
more shall suffer wrong.
The dwarves of
yore made mightly spells,
While hammers
fell like ringing bells
In places
deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow
halls beneath the fells.
On silver
necklaces they strung
The light of
stars, on crowns they hung
The
dragon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of
harps they wrung.
The mountain
throne once more is freed!
O! wandering
folk, the summons heed!
Come haste!
Come haste! across the waste!
The king of
friend and kin has need.
Now call we
over mountains cold,
'Come back
unto the caverns old'!
Here at the
Gates the king awaits,
His hands are
rich with gems and gold.
The king is
come unto his hall
Under the
Mountain dark and tall.
The Worm of
Dread is slain and dead,
And ever so
our foes shall fall!
Dwarven Song
About Old Wealth
Far over the
misty mountains cold
To dungeons
deep and caverns old
We must away
ere break of day
To seek the
pale enchanted gold.
The dwarves of
yore made mightly spells,
While hammers
fell like ringing bells
In places
deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow
halls beneath the fells.
For ancient
king and elvish lord
There many a
gleaming golden hoard
They shaped
and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in
gems on hilt of sward.
On silver
necklaces they strung
The flowering
stars, on crowns they hung
The
dragon-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed
the light of moon and sun.
Far over the
misty mountains cold
To dungeouns
deep and caverns old
We must away, ere
break of day,
To claim our
long-forgotten gold.
Goblets they
carved there for themselves
And harps of
gold; where no man delves
There lay they
long, and many a song
Was sung
unheard by men or elves.
The pines were
roaring on the height,
The winds were
moaning in the night,
The fire was
red, it flaming spread;
The trees like
torches blazed with light.
The bells were
ringing in the dale
And men looked
up with faces pale;
The dragon's
ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their
towers and houses frail.
The mountain
smoked beneath the moon;
The dwarves,
they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled
their hall to dying fall
Beneath his
feet, beneath the moon.
Far over the
misty mountains grim
To dungeons
deep and caverns dim
We must away,
ere break of day,
To win our harps
and gold from him!
Far over the
misty mountains cold
To dungeons
deep and caverns old
We must away,
ere break of day,
To find our
long-forgotten gold.
Song of New
Hope
Out of doubt,
out of dark, to the day's rising
he rode
singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.
Hope he
rekindled, and in hope ended;
over death,
over dread, over doom lifted
out of loss,
out of life, unto long glory.
Fangorn's Song
of Lore
Ents the
earthborn, old as mountains,
the
wide-walkers, water drinking;
and hungry as
hunters, the Hobbit children.
the laughing
folk, the little people.
The Road Goes
Ever On
Still round
the corner there may wait
A new road or
a secret gate,
And though I
oft have passed them by,
A day will
come at last when I
Shall take the
hidden paths that run
West of the
Moon, East of the Sun.
Song of Ents
Ere iron was
found or tree was hewn,
When young was
mountain under moon;
Ere ring was
made, or wrought was woe,
It walked the
forests long ago.
Song About
Oliphaunt
Grey as a mouse,
Big as a
house,
Nose like a
snake,
I make the
earth shake,
As I tramp
through the grass;
Trees crack as
I pass.
With horns in
my mouth
I walk in the
South,
Flapping big
ears.
Beyond count
of years
I stump round
and round,
Never lie on
the ground,
Not even to
die.
Oliphaunt am
I,
Biggest of
all,
Huge, old, and
tall.
If ever you'd
met me
You wouldn't
forget me.
If you never
do,
You won't
think I'm true;
But old
Oliphaunt am I,
And I never
lie.
Song About
Palantiri
Tall ships and
tall kings
Three times
three,
What brought
they from the foundered land
Over the
flowing sea?
Seven stars
and seven stones
And one white
tree.
Song of
Aragorn
All that is
gold does not glitter,
Not all those
who wander are lost;
The old that
is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are
not reached by the frost.
From the ashes
a fire shall be woken,
A light from
the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall
be blade that was broken,
The crownless
again shall be king.
The riddles of
Bilbo and Gollum
Gollum:
What has roots
as nobody sees,
Is taller than
trees,
Up, up it
goes,
And yet never
grows?
[A mountain]
Bilbo:
Thirty white
horses on a red hill,
First they
champ,
Then they
stamp,
Then they
stand still.
[Teeth]
Gollum:
Voiceless it
cries,
Wingless
flutters,
Toothless bites,
Mouthless
mutters.
[Wind]
Bilbo:
An eye in a
blue face
Saw an eye in
a green face.
"That eye
is like to this eye"
Said the first
eye,
"But in
low place,
Not in high
place."
[The sun]
Gollum:
It cannot be
seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard,
cannot be smelt.
It lies behind
stars and under hills,
And empty
holes it fills.
It comes first
and follows after,
Ends life,
kills laughter.
[Dark]
Bilbo:
A box without
hinges, key, or lid,
Yet golden
treasure inside is hid.
[An egg]
Gollum:
Alive without
breath,
As cold as
death;
Never thirsty,
ever drinking,
All in mail
never clinking.
[Fish]
Bilbo:
No-legs lay on
one-leg,
two-legs sat
near on three-legs,
four-legs got
some.
[Fish on a table,
man on a stool,
cat gets the
scraps]
Gollum:
This thing all
things devours:
Birds, beasts,
trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron,
bites steel;
Grinds hard
stones to meal;
Slays king,
ruins town,
And beats high
mountain down.
[Time]
Riders of
Théoden
Arise now,
arise, Riders of Théoden!
Dire deeds
awake, dark is it eastward.
Let horse be
bridled, horn be sounded!
Forth
Eorlingas!
Roads go ever
on and on
Roads go ever
ever on,
Over rock and
under tree,
By caves where
never sun has shone,
By streams
that never find the sea;
Over snow by
winter sown,
And through
the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and
over stone,
And under
mountains in the moon.
Roads go ever
ever on
Under cloud
and under star,
Yet feet that
wandering have gone
Turn at last
to home afar.
Eyes that fire
and sword have seen
And horror in
the halls of stone
Look at last
on meadows green
And trees and
hills they long have known.
Song About
Riders of Rohan
Where now the
horse and the rider? Where is the horn that
was blowing?
Where is the
helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair
flowing?
Where is the
hand on the harpstring, and the red fire
glowing?
Where is the
sping and the harvest and the tall corn
growing?
They have
passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind
in the meadow;
The days have
gone down in the West behind the hills
into shadow.
Who shall
gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the
flowing years from the Sea returning?
Merry Elven
Song
Roll - roll -
roll - roll,
roll - roll -
rolling down the hole!
Heave ho!
Splash plump!
Down they go,
down they bump!
Song About
Rowans
O
Orofarnë, Lassemista, Carnimírië!
O rowan fair,
upon your hair how white the blossom lay!
O rowan mine,
I saw you shine upon a summer's day,
Your rind so
bright, your leaves so light, your voice so cool
and soft:
Upon your head
how golden-red the crown you bore aloft!
O rowan dead,
upon your head your hair is dry and grey;
Your crown is
spilled your voice is stilled for ever and a
day.
O
Orofarnë, Lassemista, Carnimírië!
Song of Beren
and Lúthien
The leaves
were long, the grass was green,
The
hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the
glade a light was seen
Of stars in
shadow shimmering.
Tinúviel
was dancing there
To music of a
pipe unseen,
And light of
stars was in her hair,
And in her
raiment glimmering.
There Beren
came from mountains cold,
And lost he
wandered under leaves,
And where the
Elven-river rolled
He walked
alone and sorrowing.
He peered
between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in
wonder flowers of gold
Upon her
mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair
like shadow following.
Enchantment
healed his weary feet
That over
hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he
hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at
moonbeams glistening.
Through woven
woods in Elvenhome
She lightly
fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely
still to roam
In the silent
forest listening.
He heard there
oft the flying sound
Of feet as
light as linden-leaves,
Or music
welling underground,
In hidden
hollows quavering.
Now withered
lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one
with sighing sound
Whispering
fell the beachen leaves
In the wintry
woodland wavering.
He sought her
ever, wandering far
Where leaves
of years were thickly strewn,
By light of
moon and ray of star
In frosty
heavens shivering.
Her mantle
glinted in the moon,
As on a
hill-top high and far
She danced,
and at her feet was strewn
A mist of
silver quivering.
When winter
passed, she came again,
And her song
released the sudden spring,
Like rising
lark, and falling rain,
And melting
water bubbling.
He saw the
elven-flowers spring
About her
feet, and healed again
He longed by
her to dance and sing
Upon the grass
untroubling.
Again she
fled, but swift he came.
Tinúviel!
Tinúviel!
He called her
by her elvish name;
And there she
halted listening.
One moment
stood she, and a spell
His voice laid
on her: Beren came,
And doom fell
on Tinúviel
That in his
arms lay glistening.
As Beren
looked into her eyes
Within the
shadows of her hair,
The trembling
starlight of the skies
He saw there
mirrored shimmering.
Tinúviel
the elven-fair,
Immortal
maiden elven-wise,
About him cast
her shadowy hair
And arms like
silver glimmering.
Long was the
way that fate them bore,
O'er stony
mountains cold and grey,
Through halls
of ireon and darkling door,
And woods of
nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering
Seas between them lay,
And yet at
last they met once more,
And long ago
they passed away
In the forest
singing sorrowless.
Song for the
Sea
To the Sea, to
the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is
blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away,
the round sun is falling.
Grey ship,
grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of
my people that have gone before me?
I will leave,
I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days
are ending and our years failing.
I will pass
the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the
waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the
voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In
Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
Where the
leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!
Elven Merry
Song
Sing all ye
joyful, now sing all together!
The wind's in
the tree-top, the wind's in the heather;
The stars are
in blossom, the moon is in flower,
And bright are
the windows of Night in her tower.
Dance all ye
joyful, now dance all together!
Soft is the
grass, and let foot be like feather!
The river is
silver, the shadows are fleeting;
Merry is
May-time, and merry our meeting.
Sing we now
softly, and dreams let us weave him!
Wind him is
slumber and there let us leave him!
The wanderer
sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!
Lullaby!
Lullaby! Alder and Willow!
Sigh no more
Pine, till the wind of the morn!
Fall Moon!
Dark be the land!
Hush! Hush!
Oak, Ash and Thorn!
Hushed be all
water, till dawn is at hand!
Elven Song of
Elbereth
Snow-white!
Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O Queen beyond
the Western Seas!
O light to us
that wander here
Amid the world
of woven trees!
Gilthoniel! O
Elbereth!
Clear are thy
eyes and bright thy breath,
Snow-white!
Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land
beyond the Sea.
O stars that
in the Sunless Year
With shining
hand by her were sown,
In windy
fields now bright and clear
We see your
silver blossom blown!
O Elbereth!
Gilthoniel!
We still
rember, we who dwell
In this far
land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight
on the Western Seas.
Song for Minas
Anor
Sing now, ye
people of the Tower of Anor,
for the Realm
of Sauron is ended for ever,
and the Dark
Tower is thrown down.
Sing and
rejoice, ye people of the Tower of Guard,
for your watch
hath not been in vain,
and the Black
Gate is broken,
and your King
hath passed through,
and he is
victorious.
Sing and be
glad, all ye children of the West,
for your King
shall come again,
and he shall
dwell among you
all the days
of your life.
And the Tree
that was withered shall be renewed,
and he shall
plant it in the high places,
and the City
shall be blessed.
Sing all ye
people!
Inscription on
Snowmane's Grave
Faithful
servant yet master's bane
Lightfoot's
foal, swift Snowmane.
Bilbo's
Teasing Song
Old fat spider
spinning in a tree!
Old fat spider
can't see me!
Attercop!
Attercop!
Won't you
stop,
Stop your
spinning and look at me!
Old Tomnoddy,
all big body,
Old Tomnoddy
can't spy me!
Attercop!
Attercop!
Down you drop!
You'll never
catch me up your tree!
Elves Song
About Barrels
Down the swift
dark stream you go
Back to lands
you once did know!
Leave the
halls and caverns deep,
Leave the
northern mountains steep,
Where the
forest wide and dim
Stoops in
shadow grey and grim!
Float beyond
the world of trees
Out into the
whispering breeze,
Past the rushes,
past the reeds,
Past the
marsh's waving weeds,
Through the
mist that riseth white
Up from mere
and pool at night!
Follow, follow
stars that leap
Up the heavens
cold and steep;
Turn when dawn
comes over land,
Over rapid,
over sand,
South away!
and South away!
Seek the
sunlight and the day,
Back to
pasture, back to mead,
Where the king
and oxen feed!
Back to
gardens on the hills
Where the
berry swells and fills
Under
sunlight, under day!
South away!
and South away!
Down the swift
dark stream you go
Back to lands
you once did know!
Song of the
Mounds of Mundburg
We heard of
the horns in the hills ringing,
the swords
shining in the South-kingdom.
Steeds went
striding to the Stoningland
as wind in the
morning. War was kindled.
There
Théoden fell, Thengling mighty,
to his golden
halls and green pastures
int he
Northern fields never returning,
high lord of
the host. Harding and Guthláf,
Dúnhere
and Déorwine, doughty Grimbold,
Herefara and
Herubrand, Horn and Fastred,
fought and
fell there in a far country:
in the Mounds
of Mundburg under mould they lie
with their
league-fellows, lords of Gondor.
Neither
Hirluin the Fair to the hills by the sea,
nor Forlong
the old to the flowering vales
ever, to
Arnach, to his own country
returned in
triumph; nor the tall bowmen,
Derufin and
Duilin, to their dark waters,
meres of
Morthond under mountain-shadows.
Death in the
morning and at day's ending
lords took and
lowly. Long now they sleep
under grass in
Gondor by the Great River.
Grey now as
tears, gleaming silver,
red then it
rolled, roaring water:
foam dyed with
blood flamed at sunset;
as beacons
mountains burned at evening;
red fell the
dew in Rammas Echor.
Riding Song of
Rohirrim
Arise now,
arise, Riders of Théoden!
Fell deeds awake:
fire and slaughter!
spear shall be
shaken, shield be splintered,
a sword-day, a
red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride
now! Ride to Gondor!
Ride now, ride
now! Ride to Gondor!
Tom Bombadil's
Song
Frodo:
Ho! Tom
Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!
By water, wood
and hill, by the reed and willow,
By fire, sun
and moon, harken now and hear us!
Come, Tom
Bombadil, for our need is near us!
Tom Bombadil:
Old Tom
Bombadil is a merry fellow,
Bright blue
his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
None has ever
caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master:
His songs are
the stronger songs, and his feet are faster.
Wake now my
merry lads! Wake and hear me calling!
Warm now be
heart and limb! The cold stone is fallen;
Dark door is
standing wide; dead hand is broken.
Night under
Night has flown, and the Gate is open!
Hey! now! Come
hoy now! Whither do you wander?
Up, down, near
or far, here, there or yonder?
Sharp-ears,
Wise-nose, Swish-tail and Bumpkin,
White-socks my
little lad, and old Fatty Lumpkin!
Song About Old
Troll
Troll sat
alone on his seat of stone,
And munched
and mumbled a bare old bone;
For many a
year he had gnawed it near,
For meat was
hard to come by.
Done by! Gum
by!
In a cave in
the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was
hard to come by.
Up came Tom
with his big boots on.
Said he to
Troll: "Pray, what is yon?
For it looks
like the shin o' my nuncle Tim,
As should be
a-lyin' in graveyard.
Caveyard!
Paveyard!
This many a
year has Tim been gone,
And I thought
he were lyin' in graveyard."
"My
lad," said Troll, "this bone I stole.
But what be
bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was
dead as a lump o' lead,
Afore I found
his shinbone.
Tinbone!
Thinbone!
He can spare a
share for a poor old troll,
For he don't
need his shinbone."
Said Tom:
"I don't see why the likes o' thee
Without axin'
leave should go makin' free
With the shank
or the shin o' my father's kin;
So hand the
old bone over!
Rover! Trover!
Though dead he
be, it belongs to he;
So hand the
old bone over!"
"For a
couple o' pins," says Troll, and grins,
"I'll eat
thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
A bit o' fresh
meat will go down sweet!
I'll try my
teeth on thee now.*
Hee now! See
now!
I'm tired o'
gnawing old bones and skins;
I've a mind to
dine on thee now."
*[as read by
Tolkien on the tape:]
Thee'll be a
nice change from thine nuncle.
Sunkle!
Drunkle!
I'm tired of
gnawing old bones and skins;
Thee'll be a
nice change from thine nuncle."
But just as he
thought his dinner was caught,
He found his
hands had hold of naught.
Before he
could mind, Tom slipped behind
And gave him
the boot to larn him.
Warn him! Darn
him!
A bump o' the
boot on the seat, Tom thought,
Would be the
way to larn him.
But harder
than stone is the flesh and bone
Of a troll
that sits in the hills alone.
As well set
your boot to the mountain's root,
For the seat
of a troll don't feel it.
Peel it! Heal
it!
Old Troll
laughed, when he heard Tom groan,
And he knew
his toes could feel it.
Tom's leg is
game, since home he came,
And his
bootless foot is lasting lame;
But Troll
don't care, and he's still there
With the bone
he boned from it's owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll's old
seat is still the same,
And the bone
he boned from it's owner!
Dwarven Song
of Wind
The wind was
on the withered heath,
but in the forest
stirred no leaf:
there shadows
lay by night and day,
and dark
things silent crept beneath.
The wind came
down from mountains cold,
and like a
tide it roared and rolled;
the branches
groaned, the forest moaned,
and leaves
were laid upon the mould.
The wind went
on from West to East;
all movement
in the forest ceased,
but shrill and
harsh across the marsh
its whistling
voices were released.
The grasses
hissed, their tassles bent,
the reeds were
rattling -- on it went
o'er shaken
pool under the heavens cool
where racing
clouds were torn and rent.
It passed the
lonely Mountain bare
and swept
above the dragon's lair:
there black
and dark lay boulders stark
and flying
smoke was in the air.
It left the
world and took its flight
over the wide
seas of the night,
The moon set
sail upon the gale,
and stars were
fanned to leaping light.
Bilbo's Song
of Winter
When winter
first begins to bite
and stones
crack in the frosty night,
when pools are
black and trees are bare,
'tis evil in
the Wild to fare.
Eomer's Wrath
Out of doubt,
out of dark to the day's rising
I came singing
in the sun, sword unsheathing.
To hope's end
I rode and to heart's breaking:
Now for wrath,
now for ruin and a red nightfall!