The Elf Who Would Not Forgive

They sing of Rove once, Queen Tuar’s silver blade, The lord who rode through ancient wars Beneath the forest shade. He stood beside the sons of men When younger days were bright, Before the axes scarred the groves And drowned the stars in night. Oh Rove--- Why did he turn away? Turn away… The star that guarded leaf and stream Was lost to grief one day. Oh Rove… What sorrow shaped his name? Shaped his name… The fire meant to guard the woods Became a living flame. The greenwoods fell to mortal kings, The rivers choked with stone, And every dying ancient tree Left Rove alone. Then Azrai came with whispered vows Like winter through the rain, And slowly all his love of life Was swallowed up by pain. Oh Rove… Why could he not let go? Let it go… The stars still called his ancient name Beneath the winter snow. Oh Rove… The saddest truth remains… Still remains… He did not fall to shadow’s lies— But to his endless pain. Silver leaves fall into night… Silent stars fade out of sight… Oh Rove… They sing your name in vain… In vain… The star that would not bend to grief Was broken all the same. Oh Rove… From Tuar’s brightest flame… To Manslayer beneath black skies, The world still mourns your name.