The Silent Smith-Daughter
There came amongst us from some world unknown
A Dame who shone with a Heaven's radiance.
I don't know Her tale, likely it's the same
We're shown with a sickening persistence.
The Dark Death, the Shadow, the Feaster of All
Left stark and silent Her realm and Her kind,
A fall like that no doubt, for deep is the mark
Of awful sadness that round this Maiden winds.
Still, though ever silent, though constant Her pain,
Not woe but resolve defines the Lady
Who fains to forge fine hurts to the Shadow
And arm the Vigil-Star's castles and armies.
When first She came here, She made for the keep
Buried near to centre of the 'Star.
Long She delved deep, walking straight through the spears
Of guards and climbed the steep wall, for Her t'was not hard.
Our King and Queen, the two who built Vigil-Star
Received the Lady, and what passed between them
From our ken is barred, nonetheless we may deem
Her favour rose swift and far from what came then.
A great house they conjured for the Shining Maid,
A palace prepared for this Blacksmith Angel
Where e're-since She has made weapons and armours
By means arcane, and daily our arsenals swell.
Her store of ores and metals seem endless,
Each one far more than is found on mortal planes,
All Her works are blessed and by enchantments adorned
Her crafts serve best of any, the Void to stay.
Yet tis whispered that above all She has wrought
That somewhere stirs, in worthy hands, a spear
Which has brought matchless ruin to Shadow-Curs
And made sport of the worst horrors it came near.
True or false? Who knows? It matters not at all,
For Her abode is worth a dozen new keeps,
Her works have stalled a thousand times the foe
Whose fateful fall she hastens thus, surely.