Tolkien Music - Hîn Durin (Sindarin Fantasy Soundtrack from Tolkien’s Middle-earth)

Описание: 🎶 Language of the Ballad:
This song is performed in Sindarin, one of the Elvish languages created by J.R.R. Tolkien. Sindarin was spoken by the Eldar in Middle-earth and can be heard in tales of Elven heroes. Through this ballad, we aim to capture the magic and melancholy of Elven music, as it might have sounded in the days of Arda.

[English]

In the Blue Mountains, above a kindly land
live the children of Dís, the sons of Durin.
The wind over their sorrowful courtyard
writes tiny signs upon young hands,
and its sound foretells for them a death at the end of the road.

Fíli, the older brother who understands much,
I understand Thorin’s words about fate
and the weight of ancient enemies and great evil.
Kíli, like the sea in your joy,
your brightness will one day stand before death.

The tale of the fathers flows through other tales,
of graves in Moria, of fear before the dragon.
Thorin, a king who cannot make peace,
in the empty hall of the lonely mountain,
your words trace the paths of twilight.

On that day, in the young house, a song resounds,
Thorin comes, with spring fire in his gaze
reflected in your eyes.
“We go to my inheritance,”
Thorin says in the gentle dark,
“to Erebor we will return, to the shadowed throne
where fate was carved by fire and shadows.”

Fíli rises, without trembling in his face,
with the heart of a warrior under the weight of wrongs.
Kíli follows, walking as if upon a land he knows,
and his eyes grow silent
before what waits on every road.

They cross the Misty Mountains in darkness,
beneath storms of fire over many paths.
They find a quiet cave away from the pain of battle,
but sleep is driven off by the wind
when blades shine in the stone-dark.

In the tunnels carved by goblins
a Shadow follows their steps.
Great creatures press in,
as if my own courage had to guard the children,
Fíli raises his sword against the darkness.
Kíli stands with him amid the shouts of pain,
and the shadow ebbs away under their sudden strike.

On that land where elves live in shadow
they say that orcs never know peace,
but the children of Dís remain in silence,
and their breath follows the breath of Thorin.

At last they pass into a quiet dwelling
amid halls of wood and light,
and in your darkness the trees draw
the lines of their roads in the evening glow.

In Esgaroth, among the lakes,
the air is sweet and the heart is calm.
The anger of orcs has not yet reached this place,
for the earth trembles here under a different burden
at the shores of the water.

And now, at the foot of the great mountain,
the days grow heavy for your eyes.
Erebor rises before you like the dawn,
with a gate hard as the blood of night.
Your hearts listen to the silence
under the shadow of the wounded dragon.

Smaug, a fire in the depths of his chest,
breathes ruin over the town below.
This is not a task fit for the children of Dís,
and yet the prophecy has long spoken:
death will not dwell on your road for nothing,
for its secret will travel on the dark wind.

Death has not yet fallen there,
but its step draws near through my land.
Suddenly, like a flash of destiny,
the dragon falls and the darkness retreats,
and for a moment over the whole mountain
there is a glow like a long-desired home at dusk.

Now the valley longs for battle,
for hosts of enemies follow us,
and sudden fate struggles in sorrow.
On the ground of the Battle of the Five Armies
the orcs run like a storm.

Thorin will still sing for a moment,
in grief and glory mixed with strength.
Your shield is strong in the gusts
over this trembling earth.
When Thorin falls toward death,
your hearts do not retreat.

Fíli, son of Dís, older brother,
you stand at the foot of Thorin’s shield.
Your hands rise to hold back the enemies,
blood runs down your armor,
you do not yield before an orc’s breath.

Kíli fights alongside all the forefathers,
and his arrow falls to protect his brother.
Silence descends upon the burning ground,
your heart is sharp like a spear in the valley.
The breath of battle speaks like a tale
over a sea of joy that has no end.

At last you cross the waters,
and on the road you suddenly depart.
You do not speak of leaving with words,
but like a quiet sorrow of the night
your hearts fade upon the earth.

On this land where their effort came to rest,
Fíli and Kíli are in the whisper of the dark wind.
Your death beside Thorin’s shield
is peaceful like an eagle that has come to rest.
Silence remains, like a fading light,
dissolving into the air without sinking low.

Now your names are sung in this land
whenever one hears the tongue of the children of Dís.
My heart has not vanished beneath the Mountain,
for your story endures in the wind:
children of Durin, fair in sorrow,
dwelling now in song and in an eternal tale.

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