Dwarves of Kraggen-Cor

This world has fallen to darkness,
The mountains are crowned now by mist.
The heroes of old were made heartless,
The cold lips of death have been kissed.

An age now, our folk have been keening:
Our gladness has changed into plight.
The days when the Great Hall was beaming
Have passed now from day into night.

We had honoured the Forge of our Father,
But minds without vigil shall sleep.
We were spurned for irreverent blather,
Beset by the fiends from the deep.

They feared not the wrath of their Maker,
They came without fear of reprise.
Led by the maddened forsaker,
With a baleful light in their eyes.

The feasts of our folk were now hate-wrecked;
Our wassail had ended in blood-feud.
No song in the Hall that was gold-decked:
A dirge of the dead now ensued.

We look'd to the skies for forgiveness,
No solace was found there at all.
Our people were stricken and helpless,
Beseiged by the loss of their Hall.

An era now passed without prospect,
We gave up our hearts to despair.
Our loss of the Hall that was gold-decked
Was the worst of afflictions to bear.

But the Lord of the Forge sent us succor:
We were willed to return to our soil;
To be led to the lands of our Creator
And repaid for the length of our toil.

The Lament of the Hall-Loss by Kranthor Runeblade