Welcome traveler, come in, rest a while, and be at peace, for you have found the House of the Wardens.
Come, come in, stay a while; you look weary, here - have a drink. We have baths and rest rooms; please, enjoy your stay.
Autumn is in the air, we can smell the change, and rain is on its way.
Aside, the Queen of Light takes her bow, and leaves for Eastern Lands.
She turns to leave, and even as the King of Elves bids her farewell, he greets a familiar face.
As they idle in chat that same eve, his herald arrives, to foil plans of war.
The Guest is shown, Lord Glorfindel, the dream revealed, the Wardens, The Wardens of Arda will spear the charge.
The year is late, the leaves falling, and we sense good and bad anew.
The time will come, when we prepare for battle, but that is not the now.
Please forgive the clutter, and noise, for we prepare to feast; you look hungry.
Here we've Bards, it seems you've a tale to tell, please, feel free, ramble on, sing, sing your song.
Yours is a tale that must be told, for the freedom we all hold dear;
How many years ago, in those days of old, when magic filled the air.
The kitchens bulge, the forges swell, while Smiths craft anew.
The Years change, as clouds of blue roll by, and at last the sun is shining.
Wardens leave, through the lands, as more join; at home as we dance to Mornings light.
The fruit of the valley holds the seed of life, within the grounds soil, rich from tender care.
The pain of war does exceed our love, the time is now, to set upon our trail even as wraiths clad in black ride forth.