The Lost Poems of Beren by Archivist

The discovery of the following translations has been a remarkable find. Hidden within the ruins of an ancient Elven outpost in Eregion, I uncovered a series of scrolls in a weathered chest. These scrolls contained what appeared to be a personal collection of poems written by none other than Beren, a mortal man whose love for Lúthien the Fair remains one of the most revered stories in all of our Elvish history. What makes this discovery particularly extraordinary is that these were not direct copies of Beren’s poems, but translations made by a forgotten archivist known as Fëanorion.

The scrolls had suffered significant damage from the elements and time. Entire sections were faded beyond recognition, leaving gaps in both the original text and the translation. I have done my utmost to preserve the integrity of Fëanorion’s work while filling in what I could from the fragments of Quenya that remained legible. You will find throughout this edition notes indicating where words or lines were too worn to be restored. In these instances, I have placed [unreadable] to signify the gaps left by the march of time.

It is my hope that this work, with its careful annotations and footnotes, will allow modern readers to appreciate the depth and subtlety of Beren’s words as they were likely intended, alongside the poetic grace that Fëanorion sought to preserve in his translation. This edition stands as a testament to both the power of love and the enduring beauty of Elven verse.

Chapter End Notes

— Archivist, Editor and Keeper of Lost Writings

In the high places of Middle-earth, where the winds do speak of yore, I did happen upon a hoard of lore long-forgotten, wherein lay a treasure most rare: a collection of poems, their ink but faintly clinging to the parchment, as though unwilling to yield their beauty to the ravages of time. These verses, writ in the fair hand of some long-departed soul, are no common words, but the very breath of Beren himself, who in days of eld loved Lúthien Tinúviel.

These were not missives meant for all eyes, nor declarations meant for song upon the lips of gleemen. Nay, these were the musings of a heart enthrall’d by love most pure, the lines spun like gossamer, light as a dream and fading as swiftly. They speak not always plainly, but in symbols and shades, weaving their tale in that secret tongue of the Elves, Quenya, which rings in the ear as the sigh of stars.

To bring these hallow'd words into the tongue of mortals hath been no small feat. The music of the Quenya is such that it doth linger in the air, each syllable a note unto itself, and to render it into our speech without losing its charm and cadence hath been my burden. I have sought not only to preserve the form and grace of the original but to capture also its spirit, that the heart of Beren may yet be felt in every line.

Yet, where the Elvish tongue did softly sing in assonance and alliteration, our mortal speech doth demand rhyme, and so have I, in places, altered the form that the sweetness of the message might remain untainted. And in the subtle places where Elvish did speak of both the earth and the heavens in a single breath, I have striven to keep that same union, though at times I found no mortal words meet.

But enough—let these verses now speak for themselves, as they were once sung in the gloaming beneath the stars, and may they bear within them still the love that they were first meant to carry.

Chapter End Notes

— Fëanorion, Archivist of Eregion

In twilight’s breath, thy shadow falleth,
A dance of stars in moonlit halla.
The wode doth hum thy secret lay,
I chase thy leme 'neath the fey.

Quenya:

I lámenna, lissë Lúthien,
Calina lómë ya nyérë,
[Unreadable]
Amba lá, súma nyérë.

A whisper caught in silver leavës,
Soft as a sweven the night receiveth.
Thy footfalls fade in morn’s fair sheen,
Yet in mine heart, thy wind doth cleave.

Quenya:

Lëoquë lústë lirëlyo,
Lúmë yéni lantaner,
Lómen séressë caitain,
Óressë nyérë [Unreadable].

The rivers speak thy name in sighs,
As sunlight weepeth in the skies,
I trace the path thy laughter drew,
And follow where the starlight flew.

Quenya:

Sirilya nyénë nyélë,
Carnelya lirëa lirë,
Ambëa tanwë túlyë lómë,
[Unreadable].

A fleeting glance, a spark doth fly,
That lingereth long though stars may die,
A mem’ry woven ‘mongst the trees,
Where ev’ry leaf recalls thy breeze.

Quenya:

Elda lómë hildessë,
Cairë yëan vilya lúrë,
Calya tenna lómë sír,
Yenya calma [Unreadable].

The night unfolds its velvet shade,
Yet thou remain though stars do fade,
A silver thread I cannot find,
Yet in my soul thou art entwined.

Quenya:

Telconta veledë tyelma,
Malla tyenya hilyaina,
Oialë tóma nyélë,
Eldalinëa [Unreadable].

In shadow’d fields where silence lay,
Thy voice returns with break of day,
A tune the morn may ne’er retain,
Yet doth my waking hours sustain.

Quenya:

Lóminyë lindar nauva,
Laiquë lirëa yéni,
Sirilla lómë lantaner,
Hilyë esselya [Unreadable].

Thine eyes, a shore where summer stays,
Where waves of light do weave their rays,
I reach across the endless sea,
To touch the dreams thou send to me.

Quenya:

Ambarána lírennára,
Neldë alma urquë,
Áninwë yéni lúrë,
Tyaltyë [Unreadable].

The wind doth carry distant tales,
Yet none as soft as when it fails,
To catch the breath thou leav’st behind,
Upon the air, both soft and kind.

Quenya:

Vilyanna lúmë nátië,
Lindëo lirë tulë,
Nenyë hrívë túlyë,
Lómenna cala [Unreadable].

The dawn may break the silent night,
Yet thou art there within its light,
A flame no sun can e’er outshine,
For thou hast lit this heart of mine.

Quenya:

Calimë lótië lómëo,
Túrinya hrívëo lómë,
Ánossë yéni lantaner,
[Unreadable].

Poem 10:

Where snowflakes fall, I see thy grace,
A fleeting touch upon my face,
And though the winter’s chill is near,
Thy warmth alone I feel, my dear.

Quenya:

Lóminya serca nalta,
Esselya nurtaina,
Tyalin linya, melmë,
[Unreadable].

In ev’ry star that doth arise,
I hear thy name in distant skies,
Though years may fall as time doth flow,
Still unto thee my heart shall go.

Quenya:

Elda hrívë neldë,
Lómëo vëa nerë,
Esselya lelyaina,
Lómenna [Unreadable].

The nightingales that softly sing,
Do bring to mind the breath thou bring,
To hearts that seek a gentler tune,
Beneath the stars and waning moon.

Quenya:

Nai laitas maquettya,
Lírala esselya,
Mallelin urúme,
Meldanya lómë.

• *In several instances, the original Elvish words have faded beyond recovery, particularly in places where the sentiment expressed would have held profound personal
• [1] Wode = wood or forest
• [2] Leme = light or gleam
• [3] Fey = fairy or enchanted (referring to the magical quality of the moonlight)
• [4] Sweven = dream
• [5] Sheen = brightness, radiance
• [6] Cleve = to split or pierce, symbolizing the lasting impact in the heart