Morn 'ellui
by Didier Willis


This interesting Sindarin prose was written by Didier Willis (Lhûg Hithui) in October 2000. It was first published in Tyalië Tyelelliéva #16 (March 2001) especially for the Elvish Language Poetry Prize 2002. Didier wrote in one of his letters: To tell the truth, my Sindarin text was inspired to me by the recent news on TV, when I saw that boy killed just in front of his father in Palestine. Erde ohtava ea óresse atanion, I am afraid ("the seed of war is in the heart of mankind").


«A adan fael, lasto enni!», i Nogoth ereb pent ef fuin. 

«Im broniant ann-lend bangad mhegil gerthui echannen na nGelydh a thand lebethron togannen od eryn chaeron Ennorath». Di-melegachas oh Yrch, i machor 'enediant: «Neder miriain ani' naidh hin phain, egor leben an erui a canadh miriain, toloth cenaith, an edwen». Glamhoth danc hon.


«A adan fíreb, tiro nin!», i Edhel ereb pent ef fuin. «Linnon i charthad uireb nin am meleth, ant Belain melthin sogannen o ceilph gelebrin». Glirint di-nguruthos: «Bartha men darthad ned Ennorath, tenn i nagor vedui o menel». Glamhoth danc hon.


Nef ardhon, ben-edhel a ben-nogoth, Balan ercheneb, crebain tad erin dhôl dîn, lála: «Sí na vedui, gerin Gannas Ennorath mi-chammen angren». Morgoth leithiannen.





Darkness triumphant


«O generous man, listen to me!», said the lonely Dwarf out of the night. «I endured a long journey to trade a runic sword made by the Wise Elves and a shield of lebethron brought from the far woods of Middle-eath». In great fear of the Orcs, the pedlar counted: «Nine pounds for all these things, or five for the first and four pounds, three shillings, for the second». The yelling horde killed him.


«O mortal man, look at me!», said the lonely Elf out of the night. «I sing my eternal hope for love, the gift of the golden Gods drank from silver vessels». He sang in the shadow of death: «We are doomed to stay in Middle-earth, until the last battle under the sky». The yelling horde killed him.


On this side of the world without Elf and without Dwarf, the God with one eye, two ravens on his head, is laughing: "Now at last, I hold the Shaping of Middle-eath in my hand of iron". The dark enemy is released.


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