Ode to the Firebeards
Hail Dwarves of Mountains Blue,
Rising high in crowns of snow
From that stone you all were hewn,
Wet headed was the peak
Where our lord awoke aside his brother,
A cradle sharp and very bleak,
Nogrod was our ancient dwelling,
Those halls stood great for many years,
What future would it have, there is no telling,
Songs praise the smiths of old,
Silver and his student,
Working iron, gems and gold
But where is our heirloom most renowned?
That precious dwarf necklace,
Was it truly drowned?
Oh woe the days of our city’s end,
When our people like flares unsettled
You from whom we all descend
Your beards like fire,
Your roaring cries still echoing
Heard at our ancestor’s pyre,
You burned and melted,
Walked under grey skies
In bronze buckles belted
Now, flames no longer glow in the dark,
At the forges of old your hammers lie silent,
Before, they spew forth many a spark
But, our flames will never douse,
By the shining sword and the sound of drums
It will always endure, the Firebeard house!
Oh, Urs Tarag, masters of embers
Hear my call into the halls of waiting!
- Nyr
