The Hall of the Dwarf King
In the old place where the mountains collide,
The hall of the dwarf king is said to reside.
The carpets are woven from soft silken gold,
The tapestries bear the greatest stories yet to be told.
His throne a great mountain which he sat below
His wit it was fast, his anger came slow.
Ruby red rivers ran through their halls,
Flowing to meet great sapphire waterfalls.
But the king he grew old, and passed on
Soon his legacy was gone
Forgotten, and with him his kingdom rotted away.
If one day you happen upon that long forgotten vale,
On a night where the wolf howls and the moon rises pale,
If into that valley on that night you fly,
Out of the mist his castle will rise.
His throne, long vacant, will appear from below
And your new course of action I think you will know.
His braziers shall alight, with a new and strong flame
The rivers will flow once again, just the same
Though it's only a legend, or that's what they say
A legion of orcs is blocking the way
Why would they move from their home to the East?
It sure makes you think. Makes me think, at least.
