In a land 'cross the sea far from our home
was a land of blue grasses and fresh air.
Where trees stood mighty and tall
their red leaves shaking in the wind.
The mountains high, casting shadows
larger than the sea.
Not a man has seen this land,
not a single soul it sees
who can attest to the magic it holds
bursting beneath the seams.
Colorful flora and wild fauna inhabit the land,
undisturbed by the destructive hands of man.
Even the elves, wise in their years
cannot recall
the land in which stands alone.
Those ships that leave for the bright and lovely shores
have ne'er returned.
Do wild waves ravage the path of the misfortunes sailors?
Or does the land entice them so, and keep them for all time?
Not one being alive knows.
Aside from one, an elf as old as time,
Old Man Talanon, who tells his tales to the young by a fire.
The older they grow, more skeptical they become.
'This frigid old man?' They could scarcely believe
had sailed as a hero, across a terror of seas.
Talanon cared not, he knew what was true. The Grandeur of Gelathor, truly a sight to see.
