[Fordim Hedgethistle]

“Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind,
long years numberless as the wings of trees!
The long years have passed like swift draughts
of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West,
beneath the blue vaults of Varda wherein the stars
tremble in the song of her voice, holy and queenly.
Who now shall refill the cup for me?

”For now the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of the Stars,
from Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds,
and all paths are drowned deep in shadow;
and out of a grey country darkness lies
on the foaming waves between us, and mist
covers the jewels of Calacirya for ever.
Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar!
Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar.
Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!”

Hearpwine’s rich voice filled the mead hall in reply to Bêthberry. The music was the same as when he had sung it in the Elven tongue, but this time, as he sang it in the common Westron, it did not call to the heart, nor did it take those who heard it to a far realm of memory and repose. When he had finished he gazed to where the woman sat and smiled at her again – this time, however, it was with a somewhat subdued, even chastened expression. “Forgive me my good Bêthberry, I sang again without anyone’s bid, but I found myself sore-charged and needed to respond. As you can see, the Lady’s song did go to my heart and left there an indelible mark that I shall take with me to my grave and – time and luck willing! – perhaps I shall be able to leave somewhat of it behind me for those who come after. I say perhaps, however, for as you can tell, when I sing it again in my own tongue and not as I heard it from the Lady, it loses much of its great power. What shall bards do when this tongue, which already too few among us know, is utterly forgotten? But even were I able to preserve the song as I heard it from the Lady Galadriel, I cannot replicate her voice as she sang it, nor begin to give a sense of what it was to hear that song beneath the moon with the Lady herself glimmering in the gathering night as though with her own radiance. Much has been retained, and there is much we can do with it to guide the songs and singers to come, but much has passed, and will never be again.”

He fell into a deep and brooding silence, broken only by the purring of the cat and the quiet games of the children. Hearpwine had been delighted with their entrance, for there was no audience more honestly and wholly appreciative of music than the young. But this new challenge by Bêthberry weighed on his mind. When at length he spoke again, it was with the slow dawning of a new light. “And yet I begin to understand what you mean, lady. The singer is gone, and the song irrevocably altered, but the melody remains…Aye! There is much that I might learn from the verse.” He sat upright and brought his hand down flat against the table, making the children who watched the interchange (and who were mightily confused by it) jump. “Yes!,” he cried, “I understand the lesson now! For too many years has that song lain dormant in my heart, for I dared not utter it aloud, knowing how pale and coarse it would sound when compared to the memory of its first singing. But how must the Lady have felt about her song: she who had heard the singing of those who dwell in the West? And for Them? What must They make of Their songs after having heard the Song of Eru of which all other melodies are merely receding echoes? The Age of Men has come. We must keep alive the memory of what we can, and seek to weave as much of that as we may into our lays!” He gazed at Bêthberry with gratitude. “Come Liornung!” he cried, and his joy was so great that tears started from his eyes and he let them sparkle on his cheeks unashamed. "Let us sing such songs as these good people have never heard! Let us create new worlds with music even as we celebrate the world that is passed! Come all -- bid us sing what you wish, then lend us the aid of your voices as chorus, and the reward of your hands in payment!"