In my dreams I her sing, her songs are never
sweet, but full of dark fear and pain.
It is no harp I hear, yet her strings ring as
true in their own way.
Many are her melodies, but her thought is ever
thus; for death and destruction of evil.
So quiet is her whisper in the deep of night, yet
deafening is her music in the heat of day.
My skill unleashes her voice, my fingers coax
rich notes from her depths.
All who hear her, fear her; for she utters the last
wail they ever know on this earth.
The bow of the Galadrhim is never silent; she
speaks to me of Hope.