How Stands Armengar?
Cold are the days in battle scarred Lantia,
Long are the hours since last of you we heard,
No message gets through, no missive received,
How hard 'tis to stand the bitter long silence.
So I stand on the shore and look over the water,
Let the sea carry words where the cold Void cannot,
Storm tossed waves take my voice and my questions,
And beg for the answers from far away Amnor –
"How fare you Fraoch? How stands brave Armengar?
How stand Madra, Rhyan and Midir?
How goes the battle and how turns the tide?
When will we hear all your voices again?
How stand Rua, Lir and Caradawc?
How fare Fuildubh, Sionna and Cosaint?
How turns the tide and how goes the battle?
When will we hear all your voices again?"
Cold wind and cold rain drive at battle scarred Lantia,
And long are the days that we suffer your silence,
The mind creates horrors and as swiftly dispels them -
Not knowing is the hardest burden of all.
So I stand in the tower, look out of the window:
Wind lift my words as the cold Void cannot,
Storm clouds and gales take my voice and my questions
And beg for the answers from far away Amnor –
"How fare you Caoimhe? How stands brave Armengar?
How stand Coircre, Rhianna and Garret?
How goes the battle and how turns the tide?
When will we hear all your voices again?
How stand Fionnuala, Chlúamhach and Alvar?
How fare Duvodass, Dillan and Amos?
How turns the tide and how goes the battle?
When will we hear all your voices again?"
And so, long are the hours on battle scarred Lantia,
Long are the days and the nights and the weeks,
Torn in our own fight, the war back and forth,
We spare you less thought than your fighters deserve.
So I take my place in battle, I tend to the wounded,
Blood shed by one Lion is blood shed by us all -
Let that kinship take words, as the cold Void cannot,
And beg the answers from far away Amnor –
"How fare you, Lions? How stands brave Armengar?
How stand our brothers and sisters from Amnor?
How goes the battle and how turns the tide?
When will we hear all your voices again?
How stand you, Lions? Is your roar being heard?
How fare our brothers and sisters from Amnor?
How turns the tide and how goes the battle?
When will we hear all your voices again?"
Soft falls the snow on battle scarred Lantia,
Killing the sounds of warcraft and strife -
In the silence it brings, in the cold, numbing quiet,
Soft comes the answer from Amnor –
"You will hear from us when we have won."
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