Lotr Quotes Elvish Novels & Stories

Lorcan eyed the elflord warily. The Elven horses galloped swiftly over the lush green ground, through clear, refreshing streams and weaved between the ancient trees of lore. Niamh did not remember such beauty the last time she traveled to the silent mountains. She fought the confused emotions rolling like a storm in her heart, until they reached the foot of the path leading up to the temple in the Emenasari Mountains. The impressive temple could be seen from where the company entered the pass, and there seemed to be only one path to get there.

She gestured to the side. Luveas glanced to the side where she was looking. He saw trees mantled by the silvery mists. All green and white-ish. Nothing seemed interesting. "I don't see anything amazing there," he said. "All I see are trees." "Trees are amazing," replied the moody elf. She paced forward even faster, leaving Luveas and the black steed running to match hers. "Amethyst, wait!" cried Luveas. "Please, can we talk?"

She frowned as she looked at him. He waited because he is certain that she have something to say as continuation. “ And?” “Only…that you are not an elf.” She said in rather fake disappointment. “You missed a single detail of that fine replica of me from that book.” He said as he looked into her eyes. She blinked making a quick calculation if she had missed a single detail of the character Legolas. “Uhm…what is it, pray tell?” “That skillful warrior prince was in love with the woman fighting side by side with him.”

The vellum pages whispered as they turned, filled with an elegant, flowing script I could not decipher—the Old Elven tongue. "Our own libraries hold similar accounts of the legends surrounding K'tthar," Lorien explained, his long fingers ghosting over the script as if communing with the words themselves. "But this codex… this one is different." He continued through the pages, the rustling sound the only noise in the room, until he found his place. He paused, drawing a slow, deliberate breath.

‎ ‎Her voice, soft and hollow, echoes through the wind. ‎ ‎“I will rise again… even in death. Remember that Elara.” ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

AVELINE’S POV Elara had not stopped talking for two hours. Truly, I attempted to listen, but her version of a language lesson felt less like education and more like being chased through a forest by a cheerful bird. Every time I believed I understood a phrase, she hurled five more at me with the enthusiasm of someone flinging glitter during a windstorm. “No, no,” Elara insisted, waving her arms wildly. “When you say, ‘Am I to do this chore today,’ it sounds like you are reciting an ancient prophecy. You can just say, ‘Do I have to do this today’.”

he spoke in a low voice. Luna extended her right hand in front of her. She spoke a phrase, then a sentence, in elven language which Kael couldn’t understand, but he knew what it was for. At first, her hand sparked with golden energies in the form of thick fire, not red, but yellow as the sun—leaving no burn on her skin nor her sleeves; the next, these energies compressed, slowly forming into a long, golden bow.

He replied. "And what they would be helping us with?" He smiled at me with admiration in his eyes. "It is good to voice your questions openly. With a little more training and knowledge, I think you will become a very good Queen." I rolled my eyes at the old man. "First of all, I am not a queen. And secondly, do not divert the topic please." I said folding my arms above my chest. "Yes, yes. I apologise." He said nodding his head up and down. "Answering your question, Elves are said to be ardent warriors along with the abilities of miraculous healers. Can you guess now, how they can be helpful?" He asked.

"You are the essence of grace and enchantment, Elara. Your presence fills my heart with a joy I cannot put into words." Elara twirled around, her wings glimmering in the sunlight. "And you, my brave Cedric, are the embodiment of strength and resilience. Your love has awakened a fire within me, igniting a passion that burns brighter than the sun." Hand in hand, they continued their exploration of the forest, marveling at its wonders. Cedric marveled at the delicate flowers that bloomed in a riot of colors, their petals swaying in the gentle breeze. Elara pointed out the secret nooks where woodland creatures found shelter, whispering tales of their escapades in hushed tones.

Then he stopped, tapping the end of the quill once against the paper before reading what he wrote aloud, his voice low, almost melodic: “Zarien althe ma'lori, Vethra nu'kai samoré. Riven da’keth solthira, Liora vael thimoré.” The strange words echoed through the clearing, almost humming in the air around them. Liora felt goosebumps rise on her arms without knowing why. She stared at him. “What does it mean?” Erezhul smiled, looking down at the page again, then up at her. “In your language that you speak, it means: