The flight of Utin.

From Kamin where the fires fell, through dead dike and felled forest, in cave by night, over mountains high by day, the crew of Utin fled.

First through the cleft in stone, the ancient road, escaping from the flames. The heat licking at their heels, the trees alight, bright flames dancing across the stones, they ran. Running, running through the fires, running till they could run no more, and still running more, running to the heights of the valley.

There they stopped, and looked down on Kamin, it's fair streets alight, the great tower wrapped in flames. The ash rose up, and blocked the sorry sight, but none would forget it.

They ran down the mountains, first north, than west, fleeing the spreading flames. In the open fields of Kaminluth two men fell, too weary to go on, and the fires took them. The crew fled on,  over grassy hill and Rocky stream, till they reached high mountain.

There they could go no further, and  rested in a cave,  hidden from the fire of Ka:u. The cave stretched back, and there they carved a fortress no fires could reach. Those men and women too weak to go on were left, and a week later, the remaining company went on.

They came west to high mountains, pursued by flame, and climbed up to the snows which no flame could melt. They had no food, but on they tramped. Then on ahead, in the distance, Utin saw the haven. He led the crew on, and there they found a flat, where no snow touched. Fruits and berries were strewn about, and there they built a camp.

After a week of rest, the weary stayed, and Utin marched on with those left. West than down south, across lake until they reached the deep river. Along it they ran, east, till at last they came to the great causeway, leading up.

"At last!" Cried Utin. "My people are safe!" And there, before the great bridge, he died.