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The 1st Riddle
Silence sat sitting
in a house within the sound
of Echo's hall hallowed
to embrace the shallow ground.
Red umber hues the breeze
dark cliffs that face the sea
grasp skys of darks and grey
as wind whips waves to quay.
No life bestirs the plain
nor rains that wash away
the dust off mortal panes
lying bleached beneath the Stain.
The stones that use to speak
underneath the mortals feet
have begun their subtle leak
back to ancient shapes.
The decay of every page
lays near and dear to dust
both fruits of all things lost
missing hands to keep in trust.
(lacking those hands to keep the trust.)
The Ageless Armor sits
to its side the Sword of Lore
their color red with rage
for the lords who are no more.
