“Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel?” asked Legolas. “I will sing you a song of the maiden Nimrodel, who bore the same name as the stream beside which she lived one ago. It is a fair song in our woodland tongue; but this is how it runs in the Westron speech, as some in Rivendell now sing it.” In a soft voice hardly to be heard amid the rustle of the leaves above them he began:
An Elven-maid there was of old,
A shining star by day:
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of silver-grey.
A star was bound upon her brows,
A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lórien the fair.
Her hair was long, her limbs were white,
And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
As leaf of linden-tree.
Beside the falls of Nimrodel,
By water clear and cool,
Her voice as falling silver fell
Into the shining pool.