Page 2 of 3
Page 2 of 3
I
by Tamasin Talamontes
Faeries are such wond’rous things,
Tiny folk with goss’mer wings.
Making music as they play
In my garden, night and day.
I saw them there, oh,
just last night!
Playing tag by pale moonlight.
Flitting all about the place
‘Twixt lavendar and angel’s lace.
And then, by chance
it seems, I spied
A merry game of seek and hide;
Amidst the rows of columbine
And tangled honeysuckle vines.
See? Over by the
roses there?
A pretty maid with golden hair
Sat singing songs of ancient lore,
And castles on some distant shore.
While danced the
faery boys and girls,
Happy in their twilight world.
Without a worry or a care,
Oh! Would that I could join them there.
In the forests where I grew up, there was a legend so ancient that even among the oldest elven princes it was considered a relic from and elder age. It is a sorrowful tale about a horrible massacre made more because time has dimmed any memory of exactly who it was that died and who did the killing.
All that has been passed down through the eons is the sense of unbearable loss that the elves felt for the death of these peoples, for they were friends of the elves when the earth was young and the moon was new. The following is one very brief version of this legend as the elven minstrls sang it. It is hard to translate such beautiful songs into the crude Common language used by residents of the Landing, but I have done my best to render it faithfully.
-- Sylvanon Wueter, Sylph and erstwhile translator
It was a winters tale
Told under the smoke and the leaden sky
And the wind over the darkening vale
Floating driftless past the breadth of the eye;
The fog and the mist in the ragged air.
In the dark of the earth
Such was the sky of that night, the moon
Gentle as crystalline snow, the flakes
On the ice covered lakes, the frozen call of the loon
And the smell of the hay in the frost.
The russet bend of the light,
The fields snow-swept and the treads
Lost in the wind cloaked twilight;
The missive overdue, and the dead
Stripped by the wind, wreathed in white.
Once the shades
Of the earth, when the lands were sill young
Went under the light the trees made:
The writing erased and the stories unsung
All in a snow-dappled grave.
Listen, the pale faced rain,
The dust in the buried wood
The gristled bark rent with faces of pain,
The should the would and the could, time sings
through the rocks in the heart of the wood. Now all is made
plain.
Magic and Sorcery
by Skald Lynda Luster
What magic have ye over me?
A spell of affection 'twas cast from thee
Your twisted cast doth envelope
My heart to make my love develop.
And As I fight to keep my spirit
Your evilness is near, I fear it.
Thoughts of ye to be my fate
The trickery, socery, conjuring hate!
I fear I may have lost my senses
Your warm embrace leaves me defenseless.
The softest of kisses comes from you, mage
And hath brought forth my unsolicited rage.
How dare ye try to win my trust
To satisfy your growing lust?
I can not bear another fall
So around my heart, I build this wall.
What are halflings made
of?
A Poem by Schnuffy Cummerbund
You might think they're made of
Tarts and rum
Of bounces and giggles
And bundles of fun.
You may think they're fluffy
And filled with good will
with laughter and humor,
They never could kill.
But halfings are crafty
They're tough and they're smart.
The smiles and the laughter,
They're only one part
For halfings have backbones
And courage to spare
You're foolish by thinking
They're nothing but hair.
And know this before you
Come up to the Trace,
That cute little Tart-eater
Sets some rugged pace.
So spoil your new allies
With blue berry tarts
Realizing that halflings
Have THE biggest hearts.