The world is changing
But not the stars
Always the same, cold and bright
Without passion, only light
Silver on your skin
And fire in your eyes
They rule your life
And you ruled mine.

Greymantle they called me
When I lived among men
In the North, in the wilds
Wolf-skin and wolf-friend
And guest of Elves.
A twilight Ranger
And King of braes
Waiting out my days.

Like a sword twists
In the hand, in the fray
Like a hawk at break of day
You made the well-known strange
Gave me longing to fulfil
Made my heart desire
Saw treasure in the fire
Put your hand in mine.

King they called me,
King I would be,
But not to you.
Still and always
Your Greymantle
Weather-worn and ragged
Friend and lover of Elves
Darkness to your star.

- Varda