The Lay of Imladris- A Server's Worth of Stories

[Findurian]

The game was young, the content small,
And the players, one and all,
Joined the game, seeing it’s worth,
This vision of their Middle-Earth.
We saw the servers, listed roun’,
And some of us kept scrolling down.
We scrolled for reasons we did not know,
(or perhaps we did,) time would show,
and a name we found that drew us in,
A name where we would find our kin.
Our fellow players formed their chars,
wrote their names, earned their scars.
We joined the game, all young and free,
In Imladris, where we would be
known and found, our colors show,
and where we’d match Mordor blow for blow.
Some of us, the social ones,
banded, kins to become.
Wrote our names in Imladris history,
and marked our passings on each tree.
Our friends and companions, stalwart folks,
would form our cliques, make inside jokes.
Our names are many, to many to name,
and Imladris our lives became.
Some departed, seen here and there,
on other worlds, or heaven’s stair.
Attrition rates rose and fell,
and the twilight, like that of elves, grew darker with each departing knell.
Yet we remained, ‘neath fading trees,
and to the pressure never bent our knees.
We remained as friends, in companies pure,
and of our continued play we were sure.
But now the gulls cry o’er the sea,
to other lands, where soon we’ll be,
known again, and with friends united,
and to new servers pledge faith unrequited.
So my friends, I bid you weep,
for friends we’ll lose, and old ones meet.
For Imladris, at last, must close,
and with each day the darkness grows.
Man and elf, hobbit and dwarf,
will travel to the Grey Haven’s wharf.
And depart for lands we may not know,
but our love for Imladris?
Never less will it glow.

The lay does not end here. We each have our own stories to tell, and our own memories to share. Continue the song, friends. It doesn't end here, and it can't all be written. Some of it won't rhyme, but that's because sometimes, Imladris doesn't fit a pattern. So write your own additional verses, even if they don't rhyme, or make much sense. The song of Imladris has many voices. Lend yours.

[Urwendil]

Namárië Imladris, o fair land, namárië

[Galadhloth]

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

Namarië, Imladris, as you go into the West.