The Lament of Dwulvor's Folk

A sorrowful dirge to the lost greatness of the Dwarven People, taken from them by the Giants

The footfalls came like thunder,
One by one, our cities went under.
Beneath foot and fist, our lords were lost;
Our lands were taken, sundered by frost.

Our kingdom broken, our king crushed and maimed,
Our people were taken, broken and enslaved.
Their skin was blue, their bodies towering;
They crushed us down, killed us while laughing.

With blade and foot we were sent screaming,
Our homes flattened as they began enslaving.
They broke our will; Took our culture; Took our souls.
Made us docile, made us tools.

And now they laugh from thrones on high,
Our bodies crushed with feet and our minds awry.
They have our treasures, our mines and hoard,
Now the greatest smiths, are Dwarven no more.

We lie doomed to slavery, forced to serve;
In halls of grandeur, where giants enjoy what we deserve.
Our lives mean nothing and our people are killed,
Our children shall soon forget, what our people once held.

---

-A dirge sung in commemoration of the fall of the Dwarven Peaks and the subsequent enslavement of the Dwarven People at the hands of the giants.