Author's Note: It is with the patronage of The Royal Library that I have been encouraged to take up my pen once more. I cannot say that they shall profit much from naming me a Writer-in-Residence, particularly while my subject matter remains so drear, but nonetheless it is to them that you owe any praise, if any should be found due, for this little work.
- Arjah
A Mother Gazes on Rebellion
And shall I send my children now to war,
To batter down the dusty desert walls
Their mother raised when for a while she wore
An orcish uniform, and answered orcish calls?
What troll should spend his life in fighting for
A homeland robbed from poorer still than they:
The centaur, and the quillboar there before?
I took in youth and in regret a soldier's pay
To make a future for my children, and
My days, as now, for all that loving were
Pale strivings: nor meaning; neither end.
And shall I send my children now to war?
- Arjah
A Mother Gazes on Rebellion
And shall I send my children now to war,
To batter down the dusty desert walls
Their mother raised when for a while she wore
An orcish uniform, and answered orcish calls?
What troll should spend his life in fighting for
A homeland robbed from poorer still than they:
The centaur, and the quillboar there before?
I took in youth and in regret a soldier's pay
To make a future for my children, and
My days, as now, for all that loving were
Pale strivings: nor meaning; neither end.
And shall I send my children now to war?