["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."]
