Sometimes your friend makes a joke about throwing a Silmaril into Lake Superior and then things escalate and you have to write a tragic ballad filk about the downfall of Númenor set to the tune of The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, as you do.
Some lyrics will probably be tweaked but you can hear our first play-through of this version here on the recording of last night’s filk stream! (time stamp 29:00)
On these hither shores we forget
Númenor
Land of Star, Land
of Gift that was granted.
Now lost Westernesse
is called Akallabeth
In the tongue of the
Elves Atalante.
It was once bright
and fair, and the men who dwelt there
Knew arts that are
now lost and hidden
But they chafed at
the Ban and the Doom laid on man
That the Undying
Lands were forbidden.
King Al-Pharazôn
was both prideful and strong
And he thought there
was none could defeat him.
His force was so
great that he need only wait
Until Sauron came
humbly to meet him.
And indeed Sauron
came, acting subtle and tame
And condemning the
Ban for its harshness
And he fed wicked
things to the mind of the king
Till he worshipped
the Lord of the Darkness
The sky filled with
clouds and the thunder boomed loud
And the Eagles of
Manwe came flying
But the King took no
heed in his pride and his greed
And his fear that
too soon he’d be dying
As the great fleet
departed he hardened his heart
From his ship decked
with sable and golden
And they sailed to
the West to make war upon death
And the Ban of the
Valar was broken.
They came in a while
to the first Lonely Isle
Where their fleet
made the setting sun darken
And they reached the
fair strands the Undying Lands
Where even the king
paused and hearkened.
He wavered at last
and he nearly turned back
From the land and
the brink of disaster
But he strode on the
shore and so doomed
Númenor
For in the end pride
was his master.
The ocean was split
with a cavernous rift
And the whole world
of Arda was shaken
As the sky wheeled
and raged o’er devouring waves
They knew that their
land was forsaken.
Its gardens and
halls and its riches and tombs
Are drowned far
beneath the deep waters
With its music and
mirth and its wisdom and lore
And its wives and
its sons and its daughters.
Elendil alone with
his sons’ ships was blown
Far away from the
wrack and the ruin
He was faithful
through all and ignored the king’s call
So escaped
Pharazôn’s swift
undoing.
They were tossed on
the strand of the still-risen land
With masts snapped
and hearts full of mourning
Though their
kingdoms grew strong they would never move on
From their grief for
the land they were born in.
The world has been
rent and all roads are now bent
And the Undying
Lands have been hidden
So that never again
may the folly of Men
Let them seek after
Aman unbidden.
And on these hither
shores we forget
Númenor,
But sometimes when
the seabirds are calling
We may look to the
West and with grief in our breasts
Weep for Akallabeth
the Downfallen.
Thought I’d get around to putting up the lyrics for the filk I wrote that we debuted on the stream last night, both for folks who joined us and wanted to see them written down and for people who couldn’t make it.
The video from last night should actually stay up on Twitch for a bit, too, so if you want to see our rough performance of it the timestap around 1:08 should take you right to it
Set to the obvious tune. I’m delighted people enjoyed this one.
Just a quiet night
Heard a noise and grabbed a light
Out in the midnight woods, there was something there
Just an empty sky
When suddenly, a flash on high
Sped like a bullet train, there was something there
A searcher in a skeptic’s land
Someday I’ll make them understand
Until then I will document each
Phenomeno-meno-menon
Loch Ness Monster
Jackelopes and chupacabras
Find them, searching in the night
Bunyips, krakens
Wolpertingers, Ogopogo
Hidin’ somewhere in the night
I will travel far and wide
’Til the truth can’t be denied
Get my footage and I’ll prove to you I was right this time
Someday soon now we’ll expose
The paranormal and UFOs
You can join me in the search to find each
Phenomeno-meno-menon
Ozark howlers,
Yetis, and the Jersey Devil
Find them, searching in the night
Bigfoot, Mothman,
Snallygasters, Loveland Frogman
Hidin’ somewhere in the night
Don’t stop believin’
Hold on to that feeling
Cryptid seekers
Don’t stop believin’
Hold on to that feeling
Cryptid seekers
Don’t stop believin’
Hold on to that feeling
Cryptid seekers
It’s one of the largest organizations of people who could genuinely go completely off the grid if shit hit the fan. None of this doomsday prepper wannabe bullshit. The world goes pear-shaped, all the networks go down and SCA people will go “huh, that’ll make it slightly less convenient to organize the next event, might have to get Doug to teach me about his carrier pigeons,” and go back to doing the things they were doing anyway.
Apparently what I do in times of political and social turmoil is stress-write stubborn Star Wars hope songs, so here’s another one that I threw together with unusual speed and am now releasing into the world for catharsis. Because why not make all the songs about ships about spaceships instead?
Also, even though I don’t have another in-universe write-up prepared, this song is still a spiritual successor to my other Rebellion filk that I wrote a few years ago, so definitely imagine a similar narrative for this one – a song that emerged in the hangars and halls of Rebel Alliance amongst the pilots and other freedom fighters that called them home, becoming cultural tradition and a rallying cry all wrapped into one.
Great sadness: the New York filk community has lost a brilliant creator and a beloved friend, Ariel Cinii, also called I Abra Cinii, most frequently Abby to those who knew her personally. She will be terribly missed.
Of all the wonderful songs Abby wrote – some uplifting, some angry, some hilarious – this one seemed to me the most appropriate for this post. We’ll always remember you, dear friend.
Remember the times we had
Remember the good and bad
Remember the days and the nights and the years
Joys and fears we remember
Through the eyes of a soul
And a soul is a song
That goes on
For all time
Save the date: July 3-5, 2020!
Join us at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Danbury, CT, for a filk relaxacon!
(relaxafilk? filaxacon? eh, we’ll figure it out)
But trust is the color of a dark seed growing.
Trust is the color of a heart’s blood flowing.
Trust is the color of a soul’s last breath.
Trust is the color of death.
“The Color of Trust” by The Chamber Pots, a song for Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series. Lyrics available on Bandcamp.
axonsandsynapses 