First Was The Wolf, And The Wilds And The Will
And The Rule Of The Midrealm King.
Long Was The Night When The Wolfpack Was StillIn Their Wait For The Gathering Spring,
Soft Was The Face Of The Deep-hidden Flower
That Bloomed In The Whispering Wood,
Strong Was The Sight Of The Heavens′ Red Eye
When The Dawn Was The Scarlet Of Blood.

Then Came The Ship To The Ice-ridden Shore
That Carried The Northern Star.
Proud Indeed Was The Banner They Bore
That Flew From The Uppermost Spar,
Many A Back Built The Citadel Wall
That Grew On The Banks Of The Mere,
Loud Was The Sounding Of Destiny's Call
For Those With The Wisdom To Hear.

Up Leapt The Spark That That Ignited The Reign
Of Septentria′s Flint And Steel
Deep Were The Secrets The Dwarfsmith Could Name
And The Cauldron Of Gold Could Reveal
Dear Was Their Sister Who Guided The Skraels
In The Lands Of The Easterly Dawn
Steep Were The Banks Of The River Of Years
When Their Duty Was Finally Done.

Strong Is The Pull Of A Name For Your Home
And A Heritage All Can Share
Old Was The Wisdom The Bard Had Once Shown
Who Had Founded The Land Of The Hare
Thoughtful The Moot And The Future They Saw
And The Hope They Agreed To Declare
Bold In The Pattern On History's Loom
Were The Threads They Were Measuring There.

So Spread The Dream Like A Hungering Flame
Over Ealdormere's Towns And Fields
Fated Were They Who Would Carry The Name
And The Weight Of The Champion′s Steel
But For The Symbols In Copper And Hide
That Encircled Their Necks Like A Wreath
Great Was Their Promise As Ealdormere′s Pride
But Their Stewardship Doomed To Be Brief.

A Warlord Arose In The Far-southern Land
That Spoke Of A Northern Threat
Artless The Fall Of His Iron-clad Hand
And The Turns Of Their Servitude Set
Heavy The Heart Of The Conqueror's Son
The Northerner′s Knew As A Friend
Dark Were The Skies With A Gathering Storm
As He Told Them Their Freedom Would End.

Then With The Heat Came The Summons To War
And They Followed The Warlord's Son
Proudly They Shouldered The Burdens They Bore
And The Praise For The Battles They Won
Silent The Warcries And Tongueless The Bards
As They Toiled In The Sand And The Mud,
Loudly Their Discipline Spoke Of The Land
That Whispered Its Name In Their Blood.

Still There Were Two Who Embodied The North
Champions In All But Name
Low Burn The Embers Of Ealdormere′s Hearth,
The Seeds Of A Slumbering Flame
Moved By Her Courage, They Fought For The Doe,
Proudly They Stood In Her Guard
Slow Went That Harvest And Small Was Its Yield
And For Many The Winter Was Hard.

Word From The South Rode The Hills Of The Spring
With News Of A Tourney Won
Many Did Wonder What Summer Would Bring
With The Conqueror's Dynasty Done
Solemn, The Dragon Proclaimed In His Court
That The Law Of The Land Should Read Hence:
That Any Who′d Challenge The Name Of The North
Would Answer The Steel Of Its Prince.

And So Was The Title Of Ealdormere's Lord
Assumed By The Southron King
Great Was The Voice Of The Wolves Of The North
Who Were Given The Freedom To Sing
White Were The Blooms Of The Trillium Flower
They Gathered And Raised In Their Arms
Scarlet The Bonfires That Burned Through The Night
That Were Seen From The Cities And Farms.