A Mother’s Lullaby for Her Sons I
Hush now, my little ones,
Sleep now and dream of the sun
Shining bright, warm upon your face,
Know not of our people’s disgrace.
Dream not of death and decay,
Let my voice chase them away.
And in their stead, as you rest your head
Upon feathered beds, know not of dread.
But experience the joys of innocent youth
As I prolong the horrible truth
With words full of love
And dreams of gems like the stars above.
Sleep now, my dear
For slumber is near.
Think not of our people’s strife,
As you live a happier life
Here in our lodging in the Blue Mountains,
Of granite halls and marble fountains.
Float away to the lands of sleep,
O’er the Mountains and áto dungeons deep.
Drift on clouds of the midnight sky,
Softer than the bed on which you lie,
Until the morning dawn shall break
When the red sun rises shall you wake,
May your beards grow ever longer,
And your arms grow ever stronger.
A Mother’s Lullaby for Her Sons II
Sleep now, my eager sons,
For tomorrow your journey’s begun.
Rest your weary eyes,
And dream of clear blue skies.
Drift away to my voice,
For you have both made your choice.
Tomorrow you are no longer boys,
Your axes and swords no longer toys.
But for now you must rest,
Here in our kingdom of the West.
Let adventure come tomorrow,
And delay this mother’s sorrow.
As her two sons venture East,
To bring an end to the fiery Beast,
And reclaim our people’s stolen gold
With axes sharp and spirits bold.
Now I pray you shall not wake,
For your departure makes me heart ache.
The moment you leave is when I shall die,
Even if I bid farewell and say good bye,
I cannot hope to contain you much longer,
As I know this quest will make you stronger.
But please, oh please for Durin’s sake,
Let not my decision be a mistake.
As you leave me for Erebor’s glamour,
May Mahal shield you with his mighty hammer.
A Mother’s Lullaby for Her Sons III
Sleep now, my beloved sons,
For your journey had scarcely begun.
Rest your tired eyes,
And dream of peaceful skies.
For now you rest on colder beds,
With pillows of marble beneath your heads.
Do not fret for this world’s worries,
Let them pass like Winter’s flurries.
At last, you both can finally rest,
As our people journey from the West,
To hollow halls and chambers of gold,
Away from exile’s bitter cold.
You fought bravely, oh valiant ones,
You truly are Durin’s Sons.
As I adorn your locks with silver plaiting,
We shall meet again in the Halls of Waiting.