A/N Thanks so much to Ghetto, Binka, Haleth, MOB, and Space for helping me with this by giving me some valuable input. Hopefully you guys will like the end result!
Some terms/names you may or may not know.
Calacirya - Pass of Light - The cleft made in the mountains of the Pelóri so that the light of the Two Trees could shine through.
hroar - hroa is body, hroar is plural
fëar - fëa is spirit/soul, fëar is plural
Ulmo - Lord of the seas and one of the greatest of the Valar
Ossë - A Maia, the vassal of Ulmo
Aulë -One of the Aratar, the eight greatest of the Valar, The Smith
Tilion - Maia, Tilion was chosen by the Valar to become the pilot of the Moon.
Isil - the moon
Some terms/names you may or may not know.
Calacirya - Pass of Light - The cleft made in the mountains of the Pelóri so that the light of the Two Trees could shine through.
hroar - hroa is body, hroar is plural
fëar - fëa is spirit/soul, fëar is plural
Ulmo - Lord of the seas and one of the greatest of the Valar
Ossë - A Maia, the vassal of Ulmo
Aulë -One of the Aratar, the eight greatest of the Valar, The Smith
Tilion - Maia, Tilion was chosen by the Valar to become the pilot of the Moon.
Isil - the moon
That can be heard over the crashing waves of the stormy sea.
The remnants of death, needless and cruel,
Cause the sorrow and rage of the mighty Ulmo and Ossë.
Their torment vented through the water was little comfort
To the Eldar that remained in the Undying Lands.
The once beautiful beaches of Alqualondë forever stained,
Rivers of blood in the pure white sands.
Ravished hroar, empty now of the fëar that
Gave each their individual voice.
Heinous crimes of savagery, unpardonable,
Would ever the hearts be raised again to rejoice?
Would the silence grow deafening, stealing the essence
Of this place, plunging it into never-ending darkness.
Lightening crackles through the air, then silence,
The ocean calms, feeling Eru’s caress.
Anguish infuses the core of my creation,
A discord in the aria long written, played at last.
To unending sorrow of its creator,
Woven into the fabric of the First Born’s past.
The wounds are so deep, my children despair,
Voices raised in cries of mourning fill the air.
The ballad of Arda maimed immortally, tainted,
Lives forsaken; oh, my beautiful children so fair.
You were given many gifts in my name,
Yet you defile them, your treason profound.
Traitor to the promise of ageless bliss,
To your curse, you are eternally bound.
My children, I will raise my voice over your weeping,
Bring hope yet again to this endless night,
Bring forth my faithful servant Aulë, create the vessel Tilion,
To guide the final flower of the elder tree, and carry it’s light.
Isil rises into the stars, my followers’ hearts filled with wonder,
Hope once more to assuage their torment,
Hearken to me, turn your fëar, and lift up your pain to me,
Lay before me your lament.