Coan who blesses guides my words.

Bitter days of battle, and weary nights of mourning. Together they drained our spirit.

Elf broke his sword on shield of Man.

Man dulled his axe on armor of Elf.

Each bitter day, each mourning night, years upon years.

Coan who blesses guides my words.

Endless battle, stretching from the first of all dawns,

The feud of kings whose names had faded

From memories

And the pages of the oldest books.

Coan who blesses guides my words.

When swords met for a thousand thousandth time

Caetano, Elf King, Lord of the High Rock

met Adam, King of Men

In the ruins of Funchal, the city that had been beautiful.

Coan who blesses guides my words.

Terrible was the combat.

Steel met steel with the roar of lightning breaking earth

Here Caetano lunged, there Adam struck his blade away

Here Adam swung his sword, there Caetano brought up his shield.

Coan who blesses guides my words.

Weary, in body and in heart, Caetano

Let his blade fall

And there Adam struck with burning sword

A mortal wound that brought the proud King down

Coan who blesses guides my words.

When he saw blood flow

From the dying heart of his enemy

Adam, victor, King of Men

Threw away his crownèd helm and wept

Coan who blesses guides my words.

That burning sword, Gold-Drinker, Slayer of Elves

Slipped from Adam's tired hand.

As Caetano died, broken king,

Then too did the flame of battle in Adam's heart.

He took up his sword again, but not to strike. In the cloak of his defeated foe, King Adam

Bound up his worn and bloodied weapon. He left the field of battle, alone

Neither Elf nor Man laid hands on him.

He went to Abelida, daughter of Caetano, now Queen of the High Rock

He knelt at her feet and offered the now-nameless sword, wrapped in her father's cloak

"I offer you this sword, that brought death to your father.

No longer is it Gold-Drinker, Slayer of Elves

Let it be instead an instrument of peace, a mourning sword

And let a pact be placed upon it.

Let there be an end to this ceaseless death."

Coan who blesses guides my words.

- Excerpt from the anonymous work Iz Lhiha cu'Cadoé, The History of the Elves

A sword, a sword, a shining sword

Axe with double blades that gleam

Spear with wicked point that thirsts.

Put them aside! Throw away your arms

Put them down, man, and let them rust

Sing instead, sing with me instead

A sword that rent and tore and broke

Has healed us all

Has healed a world that bled.

- Popular folk song from central Orcad, kingdom of Men