Annatar - Lord of Gifts скачать в хорошем качестве

Annatar - Lord of Gifts

An Original Song Inspired by Tolkien’s Work. An cinematic Song that walks with Annatar through the forges of Eregion—golden promises, hidden names. #annatar #lordoftherings #lotr #epicmusic #fantasymusic #cinematic #orchestral #metal #tolkieninspired #middleearth #eregion #sauron #theringsofpower #quenya #soundtrack Lyrics: He came in white fire and cool silver rain, A smile like lamplight on winter stone. He spoke of wisdom smelted from pain, Of golden order to set things known. “A city of craft deserves a kinder star Let me teach you how metal sings.” He bowed to the guilds, to their open hearts, And weighed their trust like delicate rings. Aiya, meldor—nai elen siluva lyenna (Hail, friends—may a star shine upon you.) Á harya alassë, the fair one said, (Have joy,) while measuring every oath you drew. Take what I give, see how it glows A circle of promise that tightens like prose. Call me Annatar, the Lord of Gifts, I raise your towers; I steady your wrists. But hidden beneath my merciful hands Is a name that the shadows know—Mairon. When the last light bends to my will, You’ll call it beauty while it chills. He traced bright runes on the anvil’s face, Mapped secret numbers in hammered air; Whispered of balance, of rightful place A crown for order, if any would dare. Craftmaster’s pride like a lantern burned; The bells of Eregion answered steel. He taught them to master what masters learn The art of binding what others feel. Aiya, meldor—nai elen siluva lyenna. He dressed the wolf in velvet law, And wrote perfection without flaw. Take what I give, see how it glows A circle of promise that tightens like prose. Call me Annatar, the Lord of Gifts; I turn your doubts with the softest twist. And deep in the quiet, behind the forge, An eye awakens, a patient gorge. When the last oath leans to my tone, You’ll speak in silver, but the will is my own. Three stars were hidden from his gaze, A memory bright in a guarded hand. He smiled like a tutor praising strays And planted night in the open land. Cities can love their gilded chains; A chorus of keys can sound like grace. He taught the heart to sign its stains, And wore your hope like a kindly face. I am the calm between the strokes, The clean geometry of yokes. Mercy laid out in measured lines Ten truths reduced to one that shines. Call me gift, for I arrive Where fear and hunger learn to rhyme. Namárië… soft over shattered doors, (Farewell…) murmured to silent looms. The smoke kept faith with empty floors, And ash took notes in the ruined rooms. Auta i lómë?—no, the night returns; (Is the night passing?)—see how it burns. Huinë morna curls and keeps, (Dark gloom) watches while the city sleeps. Take what I give, and give me your name The ring remembers who fed the flame. Call me Annatar, the Lord of Gifts; I write the law that the will uplifts. And when your hands forget their own, You’ll bless the bit, you’ll praise the yoke; For I am the silence inside the tone, The author hidden in every stroke. Once he was “Admirable”—whispered lore: Mairon. He polished ruin till it gleamed like right. He learned to say aiya at every door, And turned farewell into polite night. Yet in the west, three candles stand, Unbent by the breath of the promised king; There names are kept in a cleaner hand Than any coin that a liar can ring. So mark the gifts that arrive too pure, The voice that offers to make you sure. A crown may blossom from tender speech, But roots run down where fingers reach. Namárië, bright ones—guard your fire; Let mercy love without a wire. And if a star must guide your way, Nai elen siluva lyenna May it shine past the hands that pray. For some bright names are masks that drift… And some soft laws are rings, and gift.