In a land 'cross the sea far from our home

was a land of blue grasses and fresh air.

Where trees stood mighty and tall

their red leaves shaking in the wind.

The mountains high, casting shadows

larger than the sea.

Not a man has seen this land,

not a single soul it sees

who can attest to the magic it holds

bursting beneath the seams.

Colorful flora and wild fauna inhabit the land,

undisturbed by the destructive hands of man.

Even the elves, wise in their years

cannot recall

the land in which stands alone.

Those ships that leave for the bright and lovely shores

have ne'er returned.

Do wild waves ravage the path of the misfortunes sailors?

Or does the land entice them so, and keep them for all time?

Not one being alive knows.

Aside from one, an elf as old as time,

Old Man Talanon, who tells his tales to the young by a fire.

The older they grow, more skeptical they become.

'This frigid old man?' They could scarcely believe

had sailed as a hero, across a terror of seas.

Talanon cared not, he knew what was true. The Grandeur of Gelathor, truly a sight to see.