The murky depths of the Mirkwood
Exarkun the Dúnedain Warlord into it fled.
For a time he was exalted and féted
Now the former Luinhir showed cowardice
As he sought to escape justice
As the Firfaroth dispenses
In the name of Amarthatar.
A hounded prey, Exarkun failed to keep
His hunter from his trailing steps.
The Firfaroth behind him pursuing
His death the Firfaroth were guiding
Devotedly the highest prize
Seeking Exarkun's rapid demise
For the glory of Amarthatar.
The dangers of the Mirkwood
Hidden in the dark.
The poisonous spiders
Exarkun did prefer
Fleeing from thoughts
Of unspeakable tortures
Of the wrath of Amarthatar.
En'venomed, pain wracking his weakening frame
Fleeing the sharp bladed retribution form.
Yet not knives, axes, Oliphaunt tusks nor swords
Engendered the fear of the whispered words
'Firfaroth' 'Firfaroth' 'Firfaroth'
The favoured weapon of these hidden people
In the service of Amarthatar.
Rumours of the Warlord's death
Travelled the circles of Men.
An enigmatic, charismatic Razhumikin
Did pronounce that justice was done
And the listener shivers in hidden fear
Lest the Firfaroth lingers near
From your lips to Lord's ears
His disciples are never far
Guarding the name of Amarthatar.
