The Hero’s Return
The wind blows up from western dales
to churn the glassy sea.
The mists of morning drift upon
the fog enshrouded lea.
A raven rides the murky sky,
its wings the shade of night,
and the denizens of darksome depths
retreat at morning’s light.
I tilt my eyes to the sky above
and catch the raven’s eye.
Though no man walks along my path,
alone never am I.
Fingers of fog tug at my cloak,
but ever I stride on.
Through darkness grim I’ve made my way,
at last to the break of dawn.
From the fell vales of the southern hills
to the frozen northern keeps,
I’ve hunted darkness and its brood,
where e’er it crawls and creeps.
Silver in my glimmering blade
has played a deadly tune,
for fiends and demons who laugh and reel,
beneath the weeping moon.
Years I’ve walked and years I’ve fought,
all light I did defend.
But old am I, my bones are weak,
my song is at its end.
The song of steel is a young man’s air,
too fast and cruel for me.
But my soul shall e’er keep up the fight,
though my body joins the sea.
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