The world is indeed full of peril.
What tidings do you bring to the elves of the Golden Wood?
What tidings do you bring, #?
Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.
To the sea, to the sea!
I long for the sea, #.
West, west away, the round sun is falling.
Our days are ending and our years failing.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling?
O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore.
Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Miruvor! Refreshes the body and cleanses the spirit.
The ways of Lothlórien are beautiful and restful.
It is easy to lose oneself among our folk.
Are you an elf-friend, #?
No evil shall enter Lórien.
Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall.
In our woods, the memory of elder days lingers still.
The days grow cold and the years fade.
The call of the sea in my heart grows ever stronger.
Soon... soon, I shall depart these lands, #.
Rarely have we spoken with men since the changing of the world.
Men such as yourself would often enter our forest realms in elder days.
You cannot call yourself a true elf-friend until you have tasted lembas, #.
A darkness is gathering in these Hither Lands. I feel it in my flesh.
The strength of the elves is dwindling here.
I have seen years of the sun beyond the count of mortal men.
How long shall I linger here, #?