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Literature Text
Sleep, my son
The night is a river
carrying you there
where silver stars shiver
On streams of dreams
to a land without sorrow
where boys have fathers
and the mounds are hollow
in dreams...
Sleep, my child
the sun hides till morrow
Her last rays a way
that elven ships follow
There, names are not secret
that can bring a danger
And father to child
doesn't have to be stranger
in dreams...
Sleep, my Hope
and hope of your people
Than mighty oak
your roots are deeper
Once you will know
the pride of the humbled,
the value of honour
and hopes of your kindred,
their dreams...
Sleep, my son
while darkness is soothing,
while you can rest
from the call of duty...
Once you will ride
to hardship and danger
and like your father
you will be a ranger
Now dream...
Sleep, my child
like in a nest eagle
when the stars shine,
distant and regal
Sleep, gain more strength,
and courage and strong will
that you will need
to grow and fulfil
all dreams...
The night is a river
carrying you there
where silver stars shiver
On streams of dreams
to a land without sorrow
where boys have fathers
and the mounds are hollow
in dreams...
Sleep, my child
the sun hides till morrow
Her last rays a way
that elven ships follow
There, names are not secret
that can bring a danger
And father to child
doesn't have to be stranger
in dreams...
Sleep, my Hope
and hope of your people
Than mighty oak
your roots are deeper
Once you will know
the pride of the humbled,
the value of honour
and hopes of your kindred,
their dreams...
Sleep, my son
while darkness is soothing,
while you can rest
from the call of duty...
Once you will ride
to hardship and danger
and like your father
you will be a ranger
Now dream...
Sleep, my child
like in a nest eagle
when the stars shine,
distant and regal
Sleep, gain more strength,
and courage and strong will
that you will need
to grow and fulfil
all dreams...
Literature
Shadowfax
((Author's note: This was written directly in Anglo-Saxon, and then translated back into English. As such, the translations reflect this.))
Lýðrest dæs,
ðie benden in ðæ bond,
hwær schædú licgan in ðe frith.
Hwær cwom mearg?
Meaudseld is gelden,
ond Scædúfaex in die feld gean.
Mearg wiht!
Léoht is ðie nama!
Léohte is ðie featfalle!
Nán in Rohan schall befallen in diese glǽm,
O Scædúfaex!
Rohirrim, Rohirrim!
Nán mearg shal áscímian
ac Scædúfaex!
Translation:
Sweetest of days,
That lies in the [river] bend,
Where the shadow descends on the froth,
Where is the horse?
Meaduseld is golden,
And Shadowfax in th
Literature
The Parentage of Gil-galad
The Parentage of Gil-galad
Warnings: Complete and utter crack. Rather OOC Maedhros, dense teenage Gil-galad, mentions of slash and mpreg (neither of which are taken seriously at all). Basically just complete silliness. Apologies for bad Star Wars reference.
Initially, the news that one of the sons of Fëanor was riding into the refugee settlement at the Mouths of Sirion caused something of a panic. Every few minutes, one of the terrified Falathrim or Sindar would come bursting through the door of Círdan the Shipwright, crying, "They have come for the Silmarils! We're all going
Literature
The Noldor
Mighty are the Second Kindred,
Strong and brave and fair;
Fierce they are and proud,
Tall and dark of hair;
Filled with passion and iron of will,
A two edged sword this can be.
Never do they turn aside from their propose,
From no enemy do they flee.
Ache their hands do to craft and create,
Beloved of the Smith are they.
Burn their minds do for knowledge,
But into folly they sometimes stray.
Lovers of hills and open lands,
The Watchtower their first home.
Many other glorious kingdoms did they build,
Seven High Kings they have known.
Suggested Collections
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Written for Teitho: Mothers [link]
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Comments30
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I loved this when I saw it on ffnet, and still do. It feels like an authentic lullaby -- so much that I want to sing it when I read.
It is so very well done
It is so very well done