["It is said that the most beautiful sunset in the Realms 
is that viewed from Havenshore, as the fiery sun disc 
turns the Great Sea into an ocean of molten gold. The 
fresh breeze of the sea, the gulls calling over windswept 
dunes of sand and the tranquil comings and goings of an 
idyllic village; such a place is not an easy one to leave 
behind, but great is the yearning for adventure in a 
young heart. Precisely what made the Islander hoist the 
sails with but a few comrades eludes even me, but after 
he crossed the borders to our lands, our beloved 
Val'inthor of many glades, he often spoke of fervent 
dreams that haunted him every single night.
A dark robed figure, drawing ever nearer for each sweat 
soaked night and the promilse of grim deeds and opressive 
tyranny. Though there was also hope in these dreams; a 
vague and distant voice calling out to him, drawing his 
gaze towards the east, to the Old World which he had 
heard so many a story of as a young boy.
The visage called him by a name unknown to him, in a 
tongue never uttered on the shores of the Great Isle 
since before the time of the First King; the name was one 
which would not leave the hearts of men for a thousand 
years. That name was Ilmarion."]