Even though the enemy, seemed far away
In jealousy, their love betrayed
In the halls of Menegroth, the thousand caves
Upon his throne, Thingol sat in rage
Now before his eyes, son of Barahir
A thief of little lords and brief kings
Who are you, to approach my throne?
Unhappy mortal, speak or begone!
He is a foe, of our enemy, son of Barahir, lord of Men
His life story, is a tragedy, in elven songs we sing his
Let Beren speak! What is your errand here?
This land is, forbidden, for such as thee!
My fate, O mighty king, have led me here, to what I
did not seek
And neither gold, nor jewellery, nor hellish fires of
Shall keep from me, your princes child, that I desire
that I hold dear
I too a treasure have desired
Now mortal walk through hellish fires
With all your courage you shall bring
From Morgoth's crown a Silmaril
If you escape that evil force
You may put her hand in yours