Far away in Fairyland
Where sea met gilded shore,
Ere sun and moon shone over land,
With blossom, evermore.

And in fields of scented grass
Two kingdoms stood aside.
Within a high, cold mountain pass,
There stood a third, astride.

In kingdom each was a hall
Of gold, of silv' of iron;
Three Houses raised after the fall
Of King Anelion.

Those kings were brothers from their birth,
And brotherlike they were;
They shared their sorrows and their mirth,
And stood together wherever.

So was the peace of Fairyland
Where long had life endured,
And all the people of the land
Stood noble, firm and pure.

In the lands where days before
The light had gathered all
Beneath the towers by the shores
Of vast oriental gulf,

Anelion stood as first of fay.
As father of the race.
And sworn to serve in all his ways
Was Molloch, in second place.

And these good princes, blessed three
Would guard the secret of the Light.
In those young days was Molloch free,
And longed for the ancient Night.

His heart was stirred, his mind was led
From the sphere's of Heav'n and Earth,
Where ancient ones alone could tread;
He longed to quench his dearth.

So longed he, his spirit sought,
And sprites to him were led
To unswayed lands, ere life was wrought;
Before the fairies bled.
----
Aelios, Anelion's messenger
Spoke of a people risen.
In far vales trod a stranger
Race with lore and language spoken.

So said the king of Tirilien
That them of which was said,
With haste to Elanorien;
This people must be led.

So Molloch, servant errant
Took reign of Alimon,
First of the steeds and swift servant
To the land of Cardolan.

In his train were wise Anelion ,
His sons, the blessed three,
And riding with their old companion
Was Alphi, Lord of Pixies.

On they turned their horses north
To hostile icy gates
Where treacherous passes issued forth
To staye their frantic haste.

Beyond, a country opened wide
To a little shrouded vale.
The stranger folk there dwelt beside
A silent, rolling dale.

They were tall, and cold and grim
In their eyes was wisdom keen
As ever in the world's wide rim
None other could have been.

Their lord and father, chieftain bright
Was Meledron, famed in song.
His skin was pale and shone with light.
His raiment green and long.

He spoke of things that even fay
Don't know, and do not tell.
His verse was such that even they
Were captured in his spell.

Yet deep in him there burned a fire
In the bossom of his heart.
That lighted fated desire
Which set Molloch apart.

Long they stood with pix' and fay
And marveled at this race
That truly, they forgot their ways
Delighted in their grace.

But Molloch, he could not be bound
His spirit was filled with dread.
Long had he sought, and now had found
Where the summons of Fate had led.

Then spoke he in thundering peals
To Meledron their king,
"If in my presence, you shall kneel
Great wealth to you I'll bring"

"I shall make you master
Of the plains beyond the Light.
You shall be King and ruler
Of this deep and endless Night!"

"Nay!" he said, whose song and verse
Fills all the air with joy.
"Mine place is here, and ever ours.
We need not your employ."

"Know not what you now deny:
A name of dread and pow'r
Wrought with my might without reply;
Be your's this very hour."

"Not without my living spirit."
Swore Meledron, old and meek.
"Not more honour could one merit
Who own ends does not seek."

So with shame was Molloch stirred.
He fanned his envious flame.
As Fate commanded, he must err
And ever curse his name.

He could not repent of thoughts
That led to Fate's dark place.
And all her snares were deftly wrought
To bring Death on his race.

So Molloch erred, and with his hand
He slew king Meledron.
Then cursed by Death was all the land
Where his blood was spilled upon.

Then Molloch, seeing now his wrong
Rejected forgiveness,
And seeing himself bold and strong
Fled to the deep darkness.

The Calotans, their leader slain
Now fled the sight of fay.
Filled with grief of loss and pain,
They do not forget this day.

King Anelion went after him
To stay his servant's flight
Into the deeps where light was dim
And deeper grew the night.

And of that moment, it is said,
More ill did Molloch bring,
When filled with fear and mighty dread
The servant smote his king.

No more of grief has since been shown
When fairy good was stained.
In Cardolan, it shall be known
By them their chief was slain.

The fairies, now bereft of king
And trust of Calotan
Feared much the doom that it may bring
On sinless Fairyland.

For Molloch, once the second born
Now is eldest of their race,
And so must he assume the form
And rights of first of place.
-------
Rode royal fairies to their land
With grief and sorrow great
With tales of ill in Cardolan
And darknessin their wake.

And nearing the gates of Tirilien,
Their golden horns they blew
In the blessed Elanorien
An ominous twilight grew.

All at once, their kindred knew
That Death begun her sway
And that the actions of the few
Had come to mar the day.

Anelion's sons, the blessed three,
The bearers of the Light
Bound all the lands that still were free
Against the coming night.

The youngest son was Riendel
Who delved in stone and iron,
A fastness that would long repell
The bane of Anelion.

By rocky banks was Lorindel,
The second from the first,
Who built a mighty citadel
On land that never thirsts.

Then last, the eldest, Doromiel.
Who founded on the plain
A house ere dear Anelion fell
Which brought him so much pain.

They held a council, took to plans
While fled th'enriching rays
Of hope, they gathered from the lands
The wisest of the fay.

No soon had they begun the moot
Was Tirilien filled with cries;
A mighty cloud of blackened soot
Hung low from fairy skies.

And then their strong foundations shook
When Molloch, tall and proud,
Descended on the fay that stood
Beneath his hellish cloud.

His mark was swift, his hammer fell
His minions raped the plains
And Death rejoiced, the harpers tell,
As fairy folk were slain.

He held a siege to quell
Resistance from his foes,
But none could wrest from Doromiel
The kingdom and the throne.

These three kings sat and pondered war
And long they built up arms;
They broke an ancient fairy law
To keep themselves from harm.

Their effort paid, and war begun
Before the city walls.
He blotted out the moon and sun
And he let his darkness fall.

He smote the mountain and the air.
He poisoned land and sea.
His armies raided everywhere
From pass, to plain and sea.

For Molloch, fond of many crafts
Had created in his night,
Fell creatures from the netherparts
With his unmeasured might.

And there were worms and dragons dread
And serpents in the seas.
Of his dark fay, were legions bred,
Against the blessed three.

He poured his strength on Doromiel,
The High Prince long endured.
About him many foemen swelled,
Yet he was reassured.

His brothers rode to keep their oaths.
Their hosts had made the fields.
Molloch still stayed to battle both
While Doromiel will not yield.

In Oxenfield, they waged their war,
To lift the seige of Doromiel:
The field where in the ages before,
Anelion fought and fell.

In Oxenfield, the battle raged
From night to break of morn.
They fought the battle of the age
Upon their darkest dawn.

The host of Lorindel rode North
And fell on Anachrim.
Their song was loud as they rode forth;
The sight was dire and grim.

Riendel rode to the farther East
To battle the dark fay.
His armies swept, their clamour ceased
Their hosts begun to sway.

In Oxenfield was Doromiel,
At war for light and day.
On Oxenfield, was Molloch felled
For he had lost his way.

With numbered lost, the rebels fled
The stars were lit again.
In Dorgreleb's shadow, long they bred
To ease their loss and pain.

Molloch was chained to Dorgreb's Hold
Far away from Fairyland.
From there, alone, he could behold
The healing of the lands.

So Death was driven from their land
And Life, once more, prevailed,
The Night withdrew from Fairyland
After her assault failed.

The blessed kings together swore
To keep their kingdom pure.
And if they must, they will make war
For fairykind to endure.

But Molloch, he will never die,
And still he works his will
In the shadows, where his following lie
To see his words fulfilled.

So ends the tale of blessed kings
Whose reigns shall never pass.
Whose praise and names the fairies sing
From shore to mountain pass.