A Dark Elf casts no shadows by night
When I awoke, the darkness was unbroken.
Our eyes were lifted to the Stars.
I heard the music of water on stone, water flowing
Endlessly enchanting like echoes of laughter...
The world was ours; a gift made and given.
Then came the Dark Hunter.
He rode a great steed of Un-light.
He crushed and destroyed, burned and slew.
He gathered us like cattle.
Dark sorcery was his.
Some fled, some hid; we were not all taken.
When the Rider came from the West, we knew fear again.
But he came with love and words of beauty.
His steed was greater and fair.
Orome was his name, and his steed Nahar.
Three brave souls went with him into the West
And returned as Kings.
Now the Folk gather and make to follow them,
Back toward the West where they say we will know peace.
But what of our lost kindred?
Do I forsake them utterly?
How is obeyance different than thralldom
Except by choice?
I will remain; I refuse the call.
With a blade as dark as the nightwater
I will offer a choice to my kindred
That fate and the Dark Rider has denied.
By the inky mirror of Cuivienen I linger
And my bow sings like a harp
To the star-song and the stone-song
Beside flowing waters.