A riddle

 

People say he's a fairy tale, a ghost

that parents told their children before sleep

some say he's a song with its lines lost

written by drunken bards drinking a wine cheap

Ask the wanderers walking the mountains' paths

or the river sailors crossing on their rafts

they'll tell you about a keeper blind

a knight with a heavy task assigned

To guard the passages to unknown worlds

gates that can be opened with mystical words

he holds no sword, no axe, bow or spear

a staff and a green mantle are his gear

A friend of elves, an ally of dwarves

with his life the balance he preserves

wiser than a wizard, more pious than a priest

watching the north, the south, the west, the east

He tirelessly roams the land

he walks on rocks, water and sand

his name is spelled on the blade of Crom

a riddle of steel, an ode, a prayer, a psalm