Legends of Belariath


Moutara's Tale of Woe

There lived an elf who married young, Moutara, whose tale we tell, And her tears they fell so very long, As much to fill the well.

Olias was her husband fair, And charming was with words, Whos voice could calm the evening storms, And charm the very birds.

Yet beneath his charms laid evil there, Drunken he beat his wife, Lazy he spent his drinking days, And hell came to her life.

Then out of pain came love unbound, From Sinbad fair and true, Yet lurked an awful darkened truth, Their love to yet undo.

Using magicks from lands afar, He hid his true form masked, For he was in truth an exiled Dark Elf, And in his lies he basked.

Fell Moutara into birthing, A child of mixed descent, But upon a child he could not settle, His will would not be bent.

So away fled Sinbad without word, And Moutara had no warning, Of the terrible fate her child would bring, And the darkness to be dawning.

Xevious was borne of passion, But dark her skin was plain, And that brought Olias anger down, Upon poor Moutaras pain.

Again and again his anger rained, Until she lay at deaths black door, But Olias father would not have shame, For his family to be bore.

Poor Moutara was moved away, To a cottage quiet and dim, Still with her shameful child, But her husband? Without him.

Olias family told it wrong, And passed the word abroad, That Moutara had been raped, By evil Dark Elves been gored.

And so in quiet exile, They lived their quiet days, While Olias passion raged, And passed him to dismay.

For his family had had enough, And cast him to his fate, So lonely he left his village, Upon his shoulders solitary weight.

In the far, far days to come, In five hundred years or so, Xevious left her home behind, While Moutara fell to woe.

She slipped to river raging raw, Upon a storming day, And fell to silence in the waves, Her body swept away.

Olias wound up dead in pain, His throat was cut for coins, By a prostitute he had tried to bed, Death brought by his loins.

Where is lost Xevious now? Where has she gone to ground? No one knows where she dwells, Or where she can be found.

In time her tales shall come to light, And a heroine she may become, But for now Moutaras tale is oer, And so this storys done