Exile

Not a whisper from down below
but nothing there is still.
A world of sharp, rough,
hard, cold things
erected by a single war cry
not even the loudest river
could ever silence.
From ancient darkness,
older than the stars
and all things eternal,
like a slumbering seed of gold
awaiting the royal blood
to spring back to life,
he will rise.
One solitary Elf Prince –
the bane of Man.