Caradhras Lyrics - Summoning

When winter winds are piercing chill, 

and through the hawthorn blows the gale, 

with solemn feet i tread the peak, 

that overbrows the mountains vale. 

Redhorn; my doom! 

Where twisted round the barren oak, 

the winter vine in beauty clung, 

and howling winds the stillness broke, 

the crystal icicle is hung. 

Redhorn; my doom! 

But still wild music is abroad, 

pale, desert woods! within your crowd; 

and gathering winds, in hoarse accord, 

amid the vocal reeds pipe loud. 

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High upon the land, 

on the highest (mountain) peak i hear 

(the echoes of) the world profound. 

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