[Disclaimer: If you wish to link to me, email me. You may not copy my Quenya Lessons without my permission. If you do, I'll hunt you down & send my attack lawn gnomes after you with rusty sporks. You don't want that. Trust me.]

Grey's Page

Welcome to my page.
It has links to my other webpages, poems, stories, & even messageboard. In the future, it may have a link to my ElfWood gallery.

>>NEW!<<
Do I do Quenya name translations? Of course. Just email me your name & I'll email you back, but you must send me what your name means in it's *original* form/language!! Ex: Anderson = Son of People

Learn Quenya the "Grey Way" using my easy Quenya lessons.

Enjoy!



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Over the sea, under a stone,

Lies a pile of ancient bones.

Whose they are, no one knows.

No one caring, the cold wind blows.

It shrieks. It screams. The cold wind cries,

Telling all of whose bones lie

Beneath the slab, the frigid stone.

No one listens to the cold wind moan.

Truly do they wish to hear?

Or is it death that they do fear?

They do not listen for they dread

The day that others soon will tread

Upon their own a’cursed stone,

And no one will listen to the cold wind moan.


- Mine





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