I kneel before you and you call me by the name given in days that shone.
I answer but it feels foreign from your lips.
I would ask what that name is to you had I not known;
Had I no fear.
I kneel before you and you steal the words that bind me to the ground before us:
My oath to you once stood as a badge of honor,
Now it lies dying in this tall grass.
A fiddle string has no worth alone, let me not cling to your dying word.
I kneel before you and you place upon me duty. You tell me you shall fall.
Curse the days I see you not.
Curse your fate when it takes you from my eyes.
Curse what warmth you bring to this statue, bound by fiddle, shattered by tears.
I kneel before you and you place upon me the burden of your days away from home.
On this parchment sits your farewell, stained by words unsaid.
Shall I see it if you see it not?
Shall I carry you through my eyes, my voice, my word?
I kneel before you and you speak of kin, of those you love, of those you leave.
I carry your name on my lips as I go.
An oath sworn, a word given, a friend to die.
They will name halls after your, Giant-slayer, and I shall sing in them.
Sing through tears.
