Let us go and fix it
Let us go and fix the broken portrait,
Of a land, unrecognisable and changed,
Too much it had to undergo, tortured in flames,
Under the harsh rule of a cruel king,
Escaped from a prison lying across the horizon of mortal sight,
Of much unrest he had been cause and primary root, succeeding in his secretive plan,
The proud court was led to the sorrowful shores of a stranger continent,
There, they fought and battled well, blossoming the flower of the Eldar among unspeakable misadventures,
Yet splendour was not to last in the shires of the exile,
The Judge had prophesied, that naught that was crafted by exiled hand would resist the ending of that age.
Mighty clashes all over that marred place, mingling triumph with sorrow and pain,
Pearl-made towers were torn down in ruin, either by malice or disgraceful rivalry,
Valiant kings lay dead and vanquished, overcome by the enemy,
Relentless opponent that never had had any rest,
Secluded in his chambers of iron, carved into the cold stone of those forgotten northernmost ends,
Until hope came again, but only when it had been pleaded on behalf of the two races,
We were freed from tyranny, at last, at wit's end,
Many of the countries that were sank under the waves of the sea,
We have now been entrusted a renewed world, precarious yet free, ready to be made fair again with the arts we have knowledge of, before peril creeps out another time in the tale.
