Come listen now and I’ll tell a tale
Of fiery maid and shining blade
Of creatures fay and warriors bold
Of magic and murder daring and cold
And of the merest mortal bard
Who strode through the veil to enfold
And find the thing he so longed to hold

T’was a spring time day in forest glade
When fearsome monster forth was bade
He fell in step and danced with blade
around our fearless knight

the ruby red of blood flowed past
the sharpened sound of flesh held fast
and acrid sent of magic cast
that stirred our bard from lines so trite

as fire bound blade fast fell
tolling soft as night time bell
broke the demons death knell
though e’r ride they on in to the night 
t’was frosty cold as he espied her
hair as red as fresh pressed cider
proof that our poet was not the wiser
his soul near shattered at her sight

though brave knight would sleep
and dear ones weep
and fairest death many souls will reap
our maiden’s voice forswears her might

and as they rise to the land
the fire souled bard with passion fanned
dreaming yet of maidens hand
is moved to verses bright 

though moon doth rise and dance with flame
and maidens mind in dreams is tame
still ever the demons came
to fast pitched tents they’d set alight 

though surely was our bard afraid
he did not flinch, but bravely said
by my voice I swear who harms that maid
shall have ever my enmity tonight

thus he sought by candle light
through darkened rooms in dead of night
though held apart by fates cursed might
he swore that he would find her

he sought through tomes of ill repute
through the worst of these he’d root
but of his torment they were mute
with the darkest texts he would confer

of power carried by tone he sought
and for her love great works he wrought
to be kept from her did seem his lot
but all of this could not him deter

for her heart he hunted still
bending to it all his will
And as she flushed, with joy he’d fill
so sure he was he’d caught her

as he dreamed of her fur
and of her motion’s demure
but shaterd his dreams where
when knight so brave a traitor turned

the trators blow tru twas hard
and her flush so prized had been had been meant for other men
though taunted by fate
and warned to late
still he’d not turn from her
tough ever he was bound unsate
and thus this tale I do relate

           – by Dakoit Wuther (darkwithout)

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