Battlefield
A red morning sun shines upon the silent plains.
With so fair a voice from the mountain falls a brook.
Grass and tree still wet from dew and nightly rains.
Lonely stands the peak the Dwarves so long ago forsook.
A king as strong and proud as mountains tall
Hither has returned to claim his taken throne.
Alas, many a trusty Dwarf in battle had to fall
Lest be defiled the sacred halls of stone.
The day grows old, the sun is westering;
The moon comes forth as a sickle thin.
At last victory is with the dwarven king;
To the death was he defended by his kin.
My lord! Thou are walking yonder in the shade!
Though, thy memory shall never fade.