Beautiful and sad is the tale I tell
Of once devotion and liberty.
Where winds sang of waves and wilderness,
I left a world behind me.
A palace forgotten,
An island of sea and sky.
A fortress in a tangled wood
Where mist and memories cry.
War bled into our dreams
On that pale green land.
Echoes of a paradise we could not keep,
Flowers gone to seed in our hands.
Swords sung in place of bards.
Violence was the dance of sway.
Madness was the chant of war;
The only tune I could not play.
Go, seek that which was stray,
The wanderer, the solemn-eyed.
Guided by the hand of the Rover,
A hero once denied.
Legend taunted, hidden, haunted,
It will not end with one.
For all that has passed, and all that will be,
The tales have only begun.
—Semiyar’s Song and the Rover’s Riddle—