Tamriel Data:The War of the Birds

Book Information The War of the Birds
Added by	Tamriel Data
ID	T_Bk_WarOfTheBirdsPC
	120		2
Locations
Found in the following locations: Ebon Tower, Palace: LibraryTR3 Stirk, Calmanwe Manor Stirk, Pelladia Manor

The War of the Birds
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An opera

by Antho Sarastro

A grand Imperial opera set during the Alessian Rebellion

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An opera in the Imperial tradition, translated from the original Middle-Cyrodiis. An account of the last days of Haromir of Copper and Tea, one of the Ayleid lords who opposed the Alessian Rebellion.

Act One, Scene One: Haromir's throne room

Haromir receives word that his brother and peer, Malomir, has been defeated by the Alessian Champion. Song for an Unwanted Message.

HAROMIR:
Messenger! Messenger!
What the news from the north?
Messenger! Messenger!
What the news from the north?
Long the song of slaves is sung,
the song of slaves comes closer still,
Messenger! Messenger!
What the news from the north?

TWO MESSENGERS:
Hail lord Haromir, the great!
Hail lord Haromir, of ceremony!
Who rules the drawing of tea,
who rules the forge and varliance,
we bring news from the north!

HAROMIR:
What news from the north?

TWO MESSENGERS:
Long did we ride, on fast horses,
by magic, through the air.
Long did we ride, to bring you news,
there has been a battle in the north!

HAROMIR:
What of my brother, Malomir?
The Maker, who, through twisted Arts,
Does twist and rejoin,
The splintered limb of Man.
Through Art, redeems,
unworthy matter,
that wallows in the mud,
and worships the blind fires.

TWO MESSENGERS:
A battle in the north was fought,
'twixt Malomir, the Termagant,
and slaves that follow no command.
His Arts, in battle, no avail,
his head was smashed upon the shrine,
by Pelinal, the peregrine.

HAROMIR:
Enough!

TWO MESSENGERS:
That sidereal champion, king of old,
Kills on behest of lissome song,
by Nameless Slave named Paravant,
who sits astride a pennate bull.
All men find joy in her command,
her song, so soft, brings gods to bear,
and carry her, to Celediil.

HAROMIR:
Enough!

TWO MESSENGERS
The slaves retreat now to their hold,
on Sancre Tor, the sacred mount,
where they are joined, to their delight,
by gallant squires from the north,
Who speak the tongue of serpents.
Through words, they wrest and wring the earth,
from Fanacas to Sardavar,
from Sardavar, then back again.
No place is safe in Ayleidoon!

HAROMIR:
Enough, enough, of song and snake!
Your words bring me no joy,
No relief do I find in your words.
To hear of great Malomir's fall,
to speak to me of Malomir's end!
A curse on thee,
and a curse on thee!
The word of a king of Ayleidoon,
holds great power, and secret purpose.
A curse upon the both of thee!

...

Act Two, Scene four: a dusty road in the Highlands

Haromir rides at the head of the Ayleid army. Soldier chorus: Marching Tune for a Pilgrimage.

SOLDIERS:
Sacred, sacred, sacred hill!
Sacred, sacred, sacred hill!
Sacred, sacred, sacred hill!
Where winds do roar,
where throats are sore,
where shouts the slave,
where speaks the whore,
who sits, astride her sloven bull,
sing lies, sing ill!
Of Ayleidoon!

Sacred, sacred, sacred hill!
Sacred, sacred, sacred hill!
Sacred, sacred, sacred hill!
Where's blood to spill,
upon the stone!
Where's Man's dominion,
to postpone!
To Sancre Tor!
To Sancre Tor!
To kill, to kill, the Nameless One!

HAROMIR:
There, see, far-off distant Sancre Tor,
golden hill and golden field,
where in golden arbor I did walk,
and met Rumenaeva, blissful maid,
who there became my golden queen.

Golden hill and golden field,
for golden purpose gods contrived,
to raise you here, and have you still,
so Ayleid king may climb your flanks,
find love amidst your golden eaves.

Oh, how these slaves defile you still!
There they squat on sacred stone,
altars faced with fly and goat,
for sacrifice, and dreadful rite,
come harvest-time!

Great will be the harvest then,
of pomegrenade, of crimson rose,
of wine, and oil, and summer-fruit!
Great will be the harvest soon,
when we have spilled the blood of man,
on altars white of Sancre Tor!

SOLDIERS:
Sacred, sacred, sacred hill!
Sacred, sacred, sacred hill!
Sacred, sacred, sacred hill!
Where's blood to spill,
upon the stone!
Where's Man's dominion,
to postpone!
To Sancre Tor!
To Sancre Tor!
To kill, to kill, the Nameless One!

...