I come upon this mystic land
And realize that my own hand
Wasn't what brought me to find the man
The one they call Ortaile.
My own vision has been clouded
But my purpose has not been shrouded
For I know exactly why I bounded
To the one they call Ortaile.
Long ago and far away
There was a talisman, red and grey
And it was stolen, they all say
By the one they call Ortaile.
It was from this land from whence I came
And all the people, me they did blame
For I was on watch when they all became
Against the one they call Ortaile.
That distant king's purpose I do not know
I merely know that I must go
And retrieve this talisman before the snow
For that is when his power will grow
The one they call Ortaile.
No one knows that I am here
Not even those whom I hold dear
But I feel that the spirit of the robber is near
The one they call Ortaile.
I hear their horses as they breathe
I draw the dagger out from its sheath
And I know that justice is in reach
With the one they call Ortaile.
Through the bushes I see
Ortaile, his women, and his army.
The fear chokes me so I cannot scream
So near the one they call Ortaile.
I see the talisman shining bright
On the chain 'round his neck so tight
I try and make my footsteps light
As I approach the one they call Ortaile.
I wait in the silence
My fingers twitching to the violence
They know shall soon commence
With the one they call Ortaile.
The guards finally fall asleep
So tired they cannot wait for the keep
And I can hardly make a peep
As I come nearer to the one they call Ortaile.
Finally their leader is gone from the place
And I can hear my blood race
As I slow my pace
Close to the one they call Ortaile.
I lift the talisman from his chest
While he is wrapped in rest
With luck they can get him to confess
The one they call Ortaile.
Now I break into a run
Scarcely believing what I have done
For I have stolen from the one
The one they call Ortaile.
I can hear the hounds as they awake
I will my legs not to shake
For they must know the way to take
Away from the one they call Ortaile.
The guards run on in search of the thief
Meanwhile I breathe a sigh of relief
For I am above the highest tree-leaf
And the one they call Ortaile.
I seem to have found my way
To the place where I return this day
The place where the deities play
Far from the one they call Ortaile.
I place the talisman upon the altar
And suddenly my voice falters
As I hear another one with the jingle of a steed's halter
It is the one they call Ortaile.
But before I can move and before I can blink
He is gone, leaving behind a puddle of ink
I know not what to feel or think
Of the one they call Ortaile.
Was he merely a figment of my brain
And the numbing qualities of my pain
Or maybe he really disappeared into the rain
The one they call Ortaile.
I look around outside the door
Nothing but the distant moor
And its noises I have known and will know evermore
Like the memory of Ortaile.
I have not seen nor heard him mentioned
Though I've thought of him with apprehension
Every time I spend some of the pension
Earned the night I stole from Ortaile.
