No can do with that particular story, the part I had up on the site has been 90% rewritten now anyway, and I've restructured most of the ideas I had to make them fit into a linear novel.
Here's the poem for what it's worth, since I won't actually be using it for anything now:
A Ma'luun maid went out one night,
to see the red moon rise.
The light became a sword and crown,
the blood shone crimson in her eyes.
Oh how the maiden laughed and laughed,
claiming the silver throne.
The king lay bloody at her feet,
all who witnessed did faint and groan.
"We elves shall cause all Geth to cry,"
"No peace, no peace!" saith she.
She sounded forth the Horn of Kha,
an axe befell the Healing Tree.
The deepwood hounds ran up and down
they struck the people sore,
The wise dwarves gathered in their halls,
preparing to make war.
Fifteen great lords with iron steeds,
rode out at dawn to fight.
The dusk saw only two return,
the crushed remains of dwarven might.
The orcish chiefs did fret and curse,
and all their shamans call.
Seventy stones were given life,
and flung into the brawl.
The red-eyed maid did not despair,
but called the Sisters Three.
A madness followed in their wake,
making the very rivers flee.
Seven merchant lords of men,
their faces grim and grey,
They saw the desolation wrought,
and swiftly sailed away.
