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Through the valley of Daron an iron arrow flew.

It took the lives of five brave men.

They died, fighting for their land.

 

The enemy has come in vast number.

The warriors flood the valley and made a stand.

Two long years two armies fought with mighty hand.

 

One came to take over the beautiful village.

To become the lords and rule the sand.

The other side stood for the freedom in command.

 

Many fights they fought, many nights they lost.

The victory each side desired to proclaim, as they planned.

But the battles kept going without seizing, the wounded complained.

 

To much blood, to much suffering they saw.

In a tower a princess took an iron arrow in her steady hand.

She seized the war: her already wounded king took the last breath in his land.

 

He fall one foggy morning,

When the sun rays shone from the clouds on the red sand.

He let go a sigh, relief descended upon his face in a royal tent.

 

No more fighting, the warriors stopped the bloody war.

No more their king in command.

They bowed before the new lord, throwing their swords aside from their hand.

 

Their heads are bowed, but in their heart they have a new fire blazing

To get back their freedom, to get back their land.

But for now they will just heal for another battle that will be grand.

1Singanutre

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