Midwood in autumn moon
Dawning upon silver dew
shimmering like fireflies
and golden leaves from up high
striding up to me
The lady of goldenwood
in shrouds of pearls and palest white
though she bears the mark of the wilds
She is the queen of her kind
Sung by flutes of ivory
notes soar round the elder tree
stairs ascending to far up high
where golden leaves kiss the sky
The lady of goldenwood
in shrouds of pearls and palest white
though she bears the mark of the wilds
She is the queen of her kind
For the longest time we expected you Ilamrion, "Islander".
Your story planted with the very seeds of Val'inthor
On our journey I answered you with only silence,
For the ever present shadow scoured the valleys and moors
Asking your name.
Man will rise as one under the First-born's law,
unholy war brings to demise to elf and dwarf
Second-born from the shores beyond,
in his sacrifice a prophecy is undone
When night retrests,
Thousands have fallen on ivory ground
Dragon Son,
there can be only one
The lady of goldenwood
with words of death and palest gloom
And now as I leave her behind,
She remains in my mind