Silver woven into the magic of night’s approaching farewell.
The Druid stood alone in the shallow, shadowy dunes,
His breath slowing for the incantation of an ancient spell. With hands outstretched he closed his eyes, the evocation began.
Mist descended, the Earth heard his low voice beckon.
Ghostly tendrils rose from the soft green land,Weaving themselves with the very sea and air to become one. His words “For hope or death” entwining with the dancing waves.
Above the stars began to hear a waking sunrise serenade.
“I’ll see the dawn as corpse or king” he whispered,
“Tell all, you Faeries wearing capes of jade.” The misty sands listened in their cold silence,
In time a soft rolling came upon the gloom, soon a figure walked.There were neither eyes nor face to see,It’s hood the shadow of a darkened hawk. The risen Faerie moved as smooth as glass,
No footprints left to see,
And as the sky began to grow,
Approached toward the wizard he. Its voice a drifted leaf upon the air,
Gone past before you even hear.
Such Elvin folk have never need to shout,
Their skill alone is what brings all to fear. “You ask us to begift the powerful crown”“To place upon your undeserving head”
“What treasure will you give to us for this”“Speak well, or soon your dance is with the dead” The Druid’s garb now showed its crimson hue,
As sunlight almost spilled. “I’ll pay with blood of course” said he,“Whoever you wish killed”. No movement was there on those spoken words,
To show if heard as soft or hard,
But the air stayed taut and sharp with thought,
As the floating offer slowly sank its barbs. “So you would take a life, at this Faerie’s whim?”Came a hissed reply to chill the spine.“
Why would the choice that I make be less damned,
Than any made by wickedness unkind?”
The Druid bowed his head at this, and solemnly spoke back,“
I am already damned, but would do some good before I die,
if you will say a name it will be done,To rid the world of one you know who only has an evil eye.”
The two stood still as stone, unblinking in stare,
And as the sun burst bright upon the sand,A river passed between them both,The Elvin cloak now lifted with both hands. The Druid dared to look upon this face,
The horror of it draining him to gaunt,For the face was his in ancient form,It was in fact himself come back to haunt. The Elvin figure spoke as if amongst the clouds,
“I made this same mistake so long ago,Though barely can remember why I cared,
But every year return here from below”
A scrawny hand grasped hard the Druid’s arm,
As sparks lit up the East with filling morn,
And soon there was now only one stood there,
With empty footprints looking much forlorn. So kings and crowns must wait another day,
for Elvin Faeries always have their thoughtful, final say.
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