Our final judgement.

Years ago beyond the earth,
a land undying rode away,
lost to us was the mirth,
of the fairest race.

With them went the Valar,
and their servants the Maiar,
now longer were we to see,
the wind blowing across the pasture.
Lost are the Trees and lamps alike.

No longer to hear the fair bells of the city,
tolling ever Avarnion.
The moon-domes and spires bright
lost to us by our pride.

The birds that called in twilight hours,
Gwaihir now commands them all,
and from atop Mount Everwhite,
She sits there gazing at the stars.

A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silvren penna miriel.

Snowhite Snowhite how ever fair.

No longer to see the Ring of Doom,
were the Gods sat all in gloom,
while thinking what to do,
about Melkor and the vile Ungoliant,
lost is their fair cities evermore.

However, in times to come,
the good go to the Halls
Of Mandos.
And their we dwell evermore to come.
To see our friends.
And even see some of the ones,
who saved our Earth from certain doom.
Frodo, Sam, Gandalf, Galadriel,
we will meet them again in our,
death. And then for ever we will
talk of times that have gone
and to come.

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