Oh, pick up flutes and fiddles, a new tune is beginning
A melody forsaken, on the chords of our elders' song
Each note is telling a story, a fragment of existence
Oh people, ye who listen, sit down and hear the old man's story
He was standing right in front of me, few steps from where I've been
That day the manor's tower is hiding a sun in agony
Filthy and soiled from head to feet, his sword was rusty and ruined
But in his eyes I caught a fleeting glimpse of his pride
He said:
"Seven moons painted the skies before I reached for the chosen one
A travel through the starlit horizons, through the magic's way
On the path that leads us to knowledge,
a light fall of rites and believes from past forgotten times
Outshining the malice on our thoughts
A story that came from so many miles and years ago,
The legend of the magic shield
The elf, the dwarf, the man who carries true faith deep within
Was known by everyone as Oakenshield"
I didn't understand the words he said, the silence fell on the scene
A watercolour painted with a thousand shades of feels
A wooden shield tied on his back, the magic wisdom seed
But in his eyes I caught a fleeting glimpse of his pride
He told:
"From the time when the ancients' glory rules us all, the shield has been
passed hand in hand to the few, whose hearts are pure and bold
made with the hardwood of Usdu'm, never decline his influence on character
Outstanding is the power of our will
A story that came from so many miles and years ago,
The legend of the magic shield
The elf, the dwarf, the man who carries true faith deep within
Was known by everyone as Oakenshield"
Shield, from the sources of our depths in the universal edge
- declining
Shield, from the wounds in your malice grains
"Face up and take a contact with your inner fears
You will find a well of gloominess and humble damp
Make yourself a trace on walk, the power of become
The enchantmen
