Ride not easy into dark and shadowed forests,
Where ancient trees whisper and conspire,
Where roots and stones tickle a horse’s hooves,
Where streams are deep and treacherous,
And overgrown paths lead too far from home.
Ride not foolishly into golden northern realms,
Where wicked elves weave their magic spells,
Where the shade of trees hide their gilded arrows,
Where heavy leaves glitter in the dark of night,
And elven waybread tastes naught of home.
Ride not thoughtless to eastern lands and ruins,
Where stories tell of forgotten deeds and glory,
Where there’s nothing but seas of glass and sand,
Where the hearts of men are dark and wicked,
And smoke rises not from hearth and home.
Ride not with heavy heart to lands beyond the Isen,
Where hills are filled with men of darkest desires,
Where tribes of stags and crows linger and feast,
Where the white wizard waved his staffs and spells,
And fires burn near but still too far from home.
Ride not merrily to the lands of darkness and shadow,
Where smoke is spewed from burning mountains,
Where poisonous ash linger in the sickened air,
Where burning rock melt through the crusted earth,
And black towers rise to the skies so far from home.
Ride not boastfully towards the white and silver cities,
Where trumpets blow and blackened banners rise,
Where on the paved stone no moss will gather,
Where ancient days of kings and glory wither,
And tall white towers touch not the skies of home.
Ride now lightly across the cold and streaming rivers,
Where silver-scaled fish swim in foamy currents,
Where red-armored crabs wander on the stones,
Where coal-black eels slither over river grass,
And roaming waters meet the soils of home.
Ride now bravely across the green and golden fields,
Where long-horned deers leap over the tallest grass,
Where long-tusked boars disturb the fertile soil,
Where long-fanged wolves lay down their daily prey,
And thriving meadows meet the hills of home.
Ride now thoughtfully over the lush green hillocks,
Where the tall grass roll as waves on endless seas,
Where the buzzing bees make nests and honey sweet,
Where the thick-furred cattle roam and graze,
And the tall and rolling hills meet the paths to home.
Ride now with loving heart towards the wooden towers,
Where people work and children play by morning,
Where spears and shields are proudly held by day,
Where merry laughter echoes in the streets by night,
And families meet the warmth and love of home.
Ride now merrily to the Golden Halls of song and mead,
Where white horses are stitched upon green silk,
Where kings and princes rest in courtly mounds,
Where snow-white simbelmyne grow and prosper,
And the stony paths meet the walls of home.
Ride now proudly upon Eorl's joyous fields and lands,
Where songs and cheer still linger in the brazen air,
Where horns are sounded and banners raised up high,
Where thundering hooves bring comfort to heavy heart,
And all are bid a warm welcome into hearth and home.
- This is an original poem written by Waelden.
