(©Emyn Muil 2013)

Wandering lost, you found men of the night,
together you march to war and shared their lonely fate.
On Amon Rūdh you will for your friend wait,
his amity will guide him, make him join your fight.

Then Bow and Helm will bring to these lands light,
until the bond is severed by the blade.
Fire ravaged, blackened man hugging his blasted domain.
Frosted heart and hands, black shadow on a grey land.

Life clinging, striving, killing at the fringes,
fierce in the borrowed fire of his torched lands.
Heedless yet haunted, in his fighting,
death passed him by to gorge on his prey.

Wandering lost, you found men of the night,
together you march to war and shared their lonely fate.
By swords and arrows we hunt in these poor lands,
the enemy is close, I smell the stink of orcs.

Wastelands with bloodied hands they walk with heavy steps,
a narrow path to freedom between the walls of death,
across the blasted plains of his once green moors.
Frosted heart and hands, black shadow on a grey land.

A path for the few to take,
a land bridge away
from the Dark Lord's Ire.

Life clinging, striving, killing at the fringes,
fierce in the borrowed fire of his torched lands.
Heedless yet haunted, in his fighting,
death passed him by to gorge on his prey.

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