I sing a song of an age gone by
Of the yonder days of old
Of the light that was the Silver Lord
And the Song of Gold.

Ai, Telperion! Ai, Laurelin!
We yet recall your glory.
Oh, listen now, my honored friends,
Listen to their story.

Upon the mound of Ezellohar,
Before the Shapers of the Earth,
Yavanna danced and sang a song
Of light, creation, and growth.
She danced, and sang, and wove a charm
The likes of which shall never be known,
And there came forth from that holy place
The Two Trees of greatest renown.

Ai, Telperion! Ai, Laurelin!
We still recall your light.
The light that shone in the blessed days
Before the Dark One’s blight.

Eldest was Telperion,
The majestic Silver Lord,
From whose flowers shone a silver light
And from which shining dew poured
Yet fairer still was Laurelin, the radiant Song of Gold,
Whose flowers glowed with yellow flame,
And falling from her shining boughs
A shimmering golden rain.

Ai, Telperion! Ai, Laurelin!
Fair beauty beyond compare.
The light you gave in ancient days
Before our Darkest Hour.

Prince Feanor of the Noldor,
Inspired by their light,
Created the great gems of song and lore,
The Silmarils that shone so bright.
Within the heart of these great stones
Was contained the light of the Two Trees
His foresight urged him to make these gems
So their light would not be lost to eternity

Ai, Telperion! Ai, Laurelin!
We never will forget
The light before the Sun and Moon
And the tragedy of your end.

The Black Enemy despised your light,
The thrice accursed Morgoth,
Yet he coveted the Silmarils
And conceived a terrible plot.
He sought out a servant to work his will,
To slay our beloved Trees.
He found the demon spider, Ungoliant
Whose hunger could not be pleased.

Ai, Telperion! Ai, Laurelin!
We yet lament your loss.
But Morgoth’s plan was not ended there
He was not satisfied with your deaths.

On the Festival of the Flowering
Morgoth crept past the Valar’s guard
And approached fair Ezellohar
With Ungoliant’s darkness as his ward.
He struck the Trees with his black spear
And inflicted mortal wounds
Through which Ungoliant sucked out their life.
The Trees withered, dimmed, and died.

Ai, Telperion! Ai, Laurelin!
Morgoth’s treachery was your end.
Your light was gone from the world
Yet our sorrow had only begun.

The Silmarils were the Trees last hope
To ever live again.
Feanor was loath to give them up
For he could never make their like again.
But tragedy upon tragedies,
Grievous news came forth.
Morgoth had stolen the Silmarils
And murdered Feanor’s sire as well.

Ai, Telperion! Ai, Laurelin!
Feanor’s sorrow and anger was great.
The Silmarils, Feanor, and Morgoth
All were bound to Arda’s fate.

Ai, Telperion! Ai, Laurelin!
We yet lament your end.
Their tale has ended, but ours will continue
Until all becomes nothing again.

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