tolkiensacredharp

[tolkiensacredharp]

I'm breaking with tradition to celebrate the first anniversary of the Watermill Theatre's production of The Lord of the Rings: A Musical Tale! This production was so full of heart and creativity, it was impossible not to be moved by it.

For the anniversary, @lotrmusical created a wheel of prompts based on people's favourite aspects of the production, and the prompt I got was "STAR OF EÄRENDIL ACAPELLA MOMENT. CHILLS FOREVER". So I've recorded the last few verses of the song "Star of Eärendil", which takes place as the Fellowship assemble to leave Rivendell - including the moment where (in the Watermill production) the instruments drop out and only the voices remain. That moment gives me chills too, so I hope I've done it justice!

Lyrics (and a note on the pronunciation of Eärendil) under the cut.

Lead us ever onward, our weary hope sustaining

Now strengthen our endeavour, our purpose unite

Clothe us in your courage, your hope become our armour

(Eärendil Elcirion mi giliath)

Your wisdom be our banner of light

(Chaered palan-díriel, aiya, aiya!)

Elbereth Gilthoniel, look down, hear our cry

(Elbereth Gilthoniel)

May the stars that once you kindled ever burnish the sky

(Star of Eärendil)

Shining ever bright, your hope and your healing light

Guide our way and aid us from on high

O Elbereth

Hear our cry!

On pronouncing Eärendil "Yarendil": this is an innovation from the musical, which views itself as a production put on by hobbits to remember the stories they've inherited. So you can assume this is a hobbit mispronunciation, or you can see it as a legitimate variant (the dialectal form "Yarendl" is attested: see Qenya Lexicon 105). Either way, don't sweat it.

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying

Tune: Walkley

Composer: Neely Bruce

Happy Easter (nearly) to all who celebrate it! Once again we’re breaking from tradition by breaking into Northern Harmony. I thought this tune and this poem would be particularly appropriate to the season: the original words to this tune deal with Jesus’ resurrection, and the motif of sea-journeys in Tolkien’s work has a lot to do with death and resurrection, taking inspiration from sources such as the Voyage of St Brendan and the Old English poem The Seafarer. 

The words come from Legolas’ poem of sea-longing, in which he announces he will cross the sea and travel to Valinor - as he of course eventually did (but not without Gimli!). Metrically this poem is an absolute mess, so I have had to really play fast and loose with the syllables to get regular 11-syllable lines out of it, but I’m really happy with the result. Lyrics, heavily amended, are under the cut.

To Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,

The wind is blowing, and the white foam flying.

West now, west away, the round sun is falling.

Grey ship, O grey ship, do you hear them calling,

Voices of my people now 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, long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,

Sweet are the voices on the Lost Isle calling,

In Elvenhome that no man can discover,

Where leaves fall not: land of my people ever!

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: Song of Eärendil

Tune: 26 Samaria

Composer: Maggie Denson-Cagle, 1936

I return briefly to celebrate the discovery of Earendel, an unprecedentedly distant star detected by the Hubble telescope! The name is a reference to the Old English poem Christ I, where Earendel, meaning “shining ray”, is addressed: Eala Earendel, engla beorhtast - “Hail, Earendel, brightest of angels”. But since this line was where Tolkien got his Eärendil idea in the first place, I’m willing to bet that this wasn’t an Old English enthusiast but rather a hardcore Tolkien fan flexing. 

This is, of course, another selection of verses from Bilbo’s poem about Eärendil, this time tweaked to focus on the moment when Elwing, in the form of a bird, reunites with Eärendil and brings him the Silmaril to light his way to Valinor. Birds, stars, the sea: what else does a story need?

Lyrics (abridged) are under the cut. 

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. 

On starless waters far astray,

at last he came to Night of Naught,

and passed, and never sight he saw

of shining shore or 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. 

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: The King beneath the mountains

Tune: 106 Ecstasy

Composer: T. W. Carter, 1844

More Hobbit poems! It must be the season. This song was originally a prophecy, sung by the people of Lake-town upon the arrival of the dwarves. But here I’ve reimagined it as a song sung by the dwarves in the halls of Erebor, in the brief time before they are besieged, and perhaps during the siege as well. 

I’ve added a chorus of my own devising, since the tune requires one - I don’t think it’s too innovative! - and messed with the words a very little. Emended lyrics are under the cut.

The King beneath the mountains,

The King of carven stone,

The lord of silver fountains

Shall come into his own!

Thorin the king

Has come again unto his own,

To his mountain home in Erebor! 

His crown shall be upholden,

His harp shall be restrung,

His halls shall echo golden

To songs of yore re-sung!

The woods shall wave on mountains

And grass beneath the sun;

His wealth shall flow in fountains

And rivers golden run.

The streams shall run in gladness,

The lakes shall shine and burn,

All sorrow fail and sadness

At the Mountain-king’s return! 

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: Roll-Roll-Roll-Roll 

Tune: 108b The Traveler 

Arranger: Absalom Ogletree, 1868

I’m back with, for once, a song from The Hobbit - though it is, of course, sung by elves as they roll the barrels (with the dwarves hidden inside) down to the trapdoor and into the underground stream. I think this tune has a good beat for working, walking or barrel-riding! 

I’ve had to mess with the lyrics a little: the first four lines of the poem aren’t metrical, and the last two are a repeat. Abridged lyrics are under the cut.

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 whisp’ring 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 o’er the land,

Over rapid, over sand,

South away! and South away! 

Seek the sunlight and the day,

Back to pasture, back to mead,

Where the kine and oxen feed!

Back to gardens on the hills

Where the berry swells and fills

Under sunlight, under day!

South away! and South away!

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: Fíriel’s Song

Tune: 74b King of Peace

Arranger: F. Price, 1835

My first song in Quenya! Or a version of Quenya, anyway: this song comes from Tolkien’s unfinished novel The Lost Road, and the Quenya he writes in it isn’t exactly the same as the Quenya we see in LotR. 

The character Fíriel in The Lost Road is a maiden of Númenor who serves Elendil: he hears her singing this song - about the creation of the world, its beauty and its eventual end - at sunset. The name means “mortal woman”, and Tolkien used it for a number of characters associated with death and endings. (Although, ironically, Míriel Serindë wasn’t renamed Fíriel, “She that died”, until after she’d come back to life...)

I’ve had to mess with the syllable-count to make this song work, which means I’ve messed with the lineation in places and I’ve elided some syllables between words. I’m very thankful to Helge Fauskanger for his word-by-word analysis of the poem! Emended lyrics and a translation are under the cut.

Ilu Ilúvatar en káre eldain a fírimoin

ar antaróta mannar Valion: númessier.

Toi aina, mána, meldielto - enga morion:

talantie. Melko Mardello lende: márie.

En kárielto eldain Isil, hildin Úr-anar.

Toi írimar. Ilyain antalto annar lestanen

Ilúvatáren. Ilu vanya, fanya, eari,

i-mar, ar ilqa ímen. Írima ye Númenor.

Nan úye sére indo-ninya símen, ullume;

ten sí ye tyelma, yéva tyel ar i narqelion,

íre ilqa yéva nótina, hostainiéva, 

yallume: ananta úva táre fárea!

Man táre antáva nin Ilúvatar, Ilúvatar

enyáre tar i tyel, íre Anarinya qeluva?

The Father made the World for Elves and Mortals

and he gave it into the hands of the Lords. They are in the West.

They are holy, blessed, and beloved: save the dark one.

He is fallen. Melko [Melkor] has gone from Earth: it is good.

For Elves they made the Moon, but for Men the red Sun;

which are beautiful. To all they gave in measure the gifts

of Ilúvatar. The World is fair, the sky, the seas,

the earth, and all that is in them. Lovely is Númenor.

But my hearth resteth not here for ever,

for here is ending, and there will be an end and the Fading,

when all is counted, and all numbered 

at last, but yet it will not be enough.

What will the Father, O Father, give me

in that day beyond the end when my Sun faileth?

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: Sing hey! for the bath at close of day

Tune: 111b To Die No More (adapted to fit lyrics)

Composer: Edmund Dumas, 1856 

I’m back! (For about five minutes before I lapse into hiatus again.) This song was inspired by a Lord of the Rings readalong I’ve been taking part in - we’ve been trying to actually sing every song we come across, and I got to pick the tune for this one. This is the song Pippin sings at Crickhollow when he, Frodo and Sam are washing off the dirt of the road, and it’s also one of Bilbo’s favourite songs! 

Lyrics under the cut.

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 a noble 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!

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: I sit beside the fire and think

Tune: 69t Minister’s Farewell

Composer: Wyeth’s Repository, Part Second, 1813

An autumnal song! Yellow leaves and gossamer, and sitting by the fireside. As soon as I found this tune I knew it was the right one for this poem - I’d actually never sung it before, but I can tell it’s going to be one of my favourites. Bilbo sings this song by the fireside in Rivendell, as Frodo listens. 

Lyrics under the cut.

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 in every spring

there is a different 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.

[tolkiensacredharp]

You're an absolute fucking genius please keep doing this it's so cool

Oh my goodness, thank you! I’m not posting nearly as often as I was (real life has reared its unwelcome head once more), and I don’t anticipate posting regularly any time soon, but I certainly plan to keep going. There’s so many more tunes to try!

[tolkiensacredharp]

Glad you liked it! 

Poem: Seek for the Sword that was broken

Tune: 82t Bound For Canaan

Arranger: E. J. King, 1844

And here we get to one of my more… creative reimaginings. 

This is the rhyme that appeared in Faramir and Boromir’s dreams, a summons to Rivendell. I actually imagine the original rhyme sounded much more ominous! But I like this tune, and since it had a chorus, I thought of borrowing a phrase or two from the Praise in the Field of Cormallen. So what I imagine, here, is that the poem from Faramir and Boromir’s dreams has become a common rhyme in Gondor, a folksong, with a triumphant Sindarin chorus foretelling the victorious outcome of the prophecy. 

I have had to mess with the English words a bit to make them metrical. The Sindarin words, as I understand them, mean Long live the Halflings! Glory to the Halflings!  

Lyrics (adjusted) under the cut.

Keep reading

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: Shadow-Bride

Tune: 411 Morning Prayer

Composer: T. J. Denson, 1935

I’m back! With another poem from The Adventures of Tom Bombadil. Speaking of which, if you haven’t seen Pauline Baynes’ illustrations for that book, definitely look them up because her work is always gorgeous. 

A very evening poem for a very morning tune... I don’t think this poem has any official connection to the legendarium - Tolkien just likes shadowy ladies, I guess - but I like to imagine it as a version of the tale of Beren and Lúthien. Maybe this is a song sung by elves or hobbits who’ve only heard echoes of the story, changed after being passed down for hundreds of years. I for one would love a legend of Beren and Lúthien as cryptids who appear on Fantasy Hallowe’en!

Lyrics under the cut. 

There was a man who dwelt alone,

as day and night went past

he sat as still as carven stone,

and yet no shadow cast.

The white owls perched upon his head

beneath the winter moon;

they wiped their beaks and thought him dead

under the stars of June.

There came a lady clad in grey

in the twilight shining:

one moment she would stand and stay,

her hair with flowers entwining.

He woke, as had he sprung of stone,

and broke the spell that bound him; 

he clasped her fast, both flesh and bone,

and wrapped her shadow round him.

There never more she walks her ways

by sun or moon or star; 

she dwells below where neither days

nor any nights there are. 

But once a year where caverns yawn

and hidden things awake,

they dance together then till dawn

and a single shadow make. 

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: Seek for the Sword that was broken

Tune: 82t Bound For Canaan

Arranger: E. J. King, 1844

And here we get to one of my more... creative reimaginings. 

This is the rhyme that appeared in Faramir and Boromir’s dreams, a summons to Rivendell. I actually imagine the original rhyme sounded much more ominous! But I like this tune, and since it had a chorus, I thought of borrowing a phrase or two from the Praise in the Field of Cormallen. So what I imagine, here, is that the poem from Faramir and Boromir’s dreams has become a common rhyme in Gondor, a folksong, with a triumphant Sindarin chorus foretelling the victorious outcome of the prophecy. 

I have had to mess with the English words a bit to make them metrical. The Sindarin words, as I understand them, mean Long live the Halflings! Glory to the Halflings!  

Lyrics (adjusted) under the cut.

Seek for the Sword that’s broken:

In Imladris it dwells;

There shall be counsels taken

Stronger than Morgul-spells.

Cuio i Pheriain anann! Aglar’ni Pheriannath! 

There shall be shown a token

That Doom is near at hand,

Isildur’s Bane shall waken,

The Halfling forth shall stand.

Cuio i Pheriain anann! Aglar’ni Pheriannath!

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: Errantry

Tune: 374 Oh, Sing With Me!

Composer: P. R. Lancaster, 1859

Speaking of songs that may or may not be the Song of Eärendil wearing a funny hat... This was as hard to record, or harder: I think maybe Tolkien wrote these two just to torment me. But again, I really like how it turned out! A jig was clearly the right thing for the whimsical mood of this poem. (Maybe one day I’ll record Donald Swann’s version? Very different style, but equally funny.) 

Once again, because there are so many verses to the original, I had to abridge it pretty drastically. I’ve done the first verse and then a section from later in the poem. I think they fit together pretty neatly, but if you want to read the original, it’s here.

Lyrics (abridged) under the cut.

There was a merry passenger,

a messenger, a mariner:

he built a gilded gondola

to wander in, and had in her

a load of yellow oranges

and porridge for his provender;

he perfumed her with marjoram 

and cardamom and lavender.

He passed the archipelagoes

where yellow grows the marigold,

where countless silver fountains are,

and mountains are of fairy-gold.

He took to war and foraying,

a-harrying beyond the sea,

and roaming over Belmarie

and Thellamie and Fantasie. 

He made a shield and morion

of coral and of ivory,

a sword he made of emerald

and terrible his rivalry

with Elven-knights of Aerie

and Faerie, with paladins

that golden-haired and shining-eyed

came riding by and challenged him.

Of crystal was his habergeon,

his scabbard of chalcedony;

with silver tipped at plenilune

his spear was hewn of ebony.

His javelins were of malachite

and stalactite - he brandished them,

and went and fought the dragon-flies

of Paradise, and vanquished them.

He battled with the Dumbledors,

the Hummerhorns, and Honeybees,

and won the Golden Honeycomb;

and running home on sunny seas

in ship of leaves and gossamer 

with blossom for a canopy,

he sat and sang, and furbished up

and burnished up his panoply.

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: Song of Eärendil 

Tune: 447 Wondrous Cross

Composer: Paine Denson, 1932

This song, you guys. It was an absolute bitch to record, but once I’d recorded it, I found I really liked it! I’ve ended up calling it ‘Lay’ rather than ‘Song’, for... no real reason, I suppose, except to distinguish it from the full song, which has a lot more verses. I had to cut most of them to keep it to an uploadable size - Elwing I am so sorry.

I think the selection of verses I went with does at least give you the bare bones of the story and its tragedy. This is a very abridged version of Bilbo and Aragorn’s poem about the legendary mariner Eärendil, performed by Bilbo in Rivendell. (Which, as Aragorn pointed out, is the home of Eärendil’s son, Elrond...)

Beware mic feedback!

Lyrics (abridged and very slightly altered) under the cut.

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.

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 a valley sheer

the lamplit towers of Tirion

are mirrored on the Shadowmere. 

From World’s End there 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.

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.

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: A Walking Song

Tune: 271t Arkansas

Composer: S. P. Barnett, 1869

I know, I know, two songs from the same poem in two days - what can I say? I guess I’m just in the mood for slow hobbit music.

Generally speaking I like to keep things book-based, but Billy Boyd’s performance of these words in Return of the King (his version is apparently called The Edge of Night) really got to me. I can’t not hear them as their own song now! So these words are taken from Bilbo’s walking song, which the hobbits sing in Fellowship - but let’s borrow from the films and say that Pippin sings this little snatch of music in Gondor at some point. 

Lyrics (abridged, of course) under the cut.

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. 

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: A Walking Song

Tune: 448t Consecration

Composer: William S. Turner, 1866

Short and bittersweet. I’m in love with the time-signature change in this tune, and I thought it fit this poem really well. Bilbo originally wrote these words as part of a walking song, but this is the adapted version Frodo sings on his way to the Grey Havens - his farewell song for the Shire, and Sam.

Lyrics (very slightly altered) under the cut.

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate

And thought 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.

[tolkiensacredharp]

Poem: Galadriel’s Song of Eldamar

Tune: 71 Leander

Composer: Tennessee Harmony, 1818

Aaaaaand we’re back to elves. This was one of the first ever tune-poem pairings I came up with - I adore Leander, and I really like this poem, too (I might actually prefer it to Namárië, which is inconveniently un-metrical and can only really be sung to plainchant). Galadriel sings this song in her Swan-ship in Lothlórien, with the Fellowship as the audience.

Lyrics (very slightly altered) under the cut.

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,

And 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’ve 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?