Cureyn, The Firstborn Healer

I suppose I really love designin characters with words.

Rumor has it, that behind
the hills, by countless eons bounded,
among the firstborns of his kind,
a stranger treated many wounded.

Alone he lived in ancient wood
outskirts near a silent creek
to fight a deadly illness brood,
but many thought of him as freak.

With stone-cold face, but burning heart
and eyes that shined but had no colour,
with his vocation - the healing art,
always to be standing taller.

His hidden thoughts could never rumble
and his carriage never trembled.
His righteous mind could never crumble
as puzzle pieces it assembled.

Of all diseases there was none,
that Cureyn’s warm touch couldn’t cure
and so the elf continued on,
until the void made him impure.

Author's Note

Long ago, when I wrote this, didn't knew there was a huge mistake in the first verse. "wounded" can be the past tense of both wound and wind (as verb) and I chose the wrong transcription and so I lost the rhyme there, but I still haven't changed it.