The Dragons from the Icy Sea: Draft 2

The Dragons from the Icy Sea

Draft_2

By: Chase L. Currie

(This poem/prose is from the stories about the squirrels I've been writing about. I plan on writing more poems to help explain the history of Sherwood Forest and the three Kingdoms of the land; Whispering Oaks, Well-Stone, and Thorn-Wood. But this poem is about the history of a time during the land when Dragons (snakes) plagued the squirrels of Sherwood Forest.

There is another part of the poem and I'll post that soon...)

The day were shorter than now,

And out on the edge of the sea,

Edge of the world,

Near the cold waters,

Pass the last Fort of Snowy Haven,

Gone far be on the safe lands of Sherwood Forest,

Over the rock gods of old,

In between the Thundering Mountains,

Where we do not go,

Lies the raging sea of Frigus and Thanatos,

Oh how the ice cratered the ships,

There the King of the Lost,

Spokes his curse on to us.

The rings around his paws,

Shakes with blood of his kin,

The dark staff at his side,

Growls a devilish red,

And the sins of our Fathers,

Feeds his rage,

We did it,

Just like you were told,

We caste them out into the world.

Out into the cold,

They when like the dead marching to their end,

We slash their bodies,

We bled their lives,

And we were sure they were,

Beneath the ground of our feet,

But they were not,

And they were led by him,

The Lost King of Sin.

He summoned the darkness with his staff,

He alone willed the long evil,

The long bodies of the devils and dragons,

They fled the waters of ice,

Of Hell, Hell, I tell you.

They move like the arrows of Death,

Making new rivers in the Earth,

Making the rock gods of old,

Hide in the their stoney fortresses,

They move across the ground like sin,

Killing everything,

Eating everything,

They were not dragons,

Like you would believe,

They were the hounds of Hell.

Without a sound,

The monsters of our nightmares bled into our lives,

Into our kingdoms,

Then like lightning they striked,

They move their bodies into our homes,

Eating our children,

Eating our Knights,

Eating them all whole,

No steel could hurt them,

No wall could stop them,

They were his will and our damnation,

And this is our sin,

For what we did.

We did this,

We made the Lost King,

He just showed us,

It was the fangs that nailed us to the cross

To hang from,

And all hope was rip from our hearts,

We are doomed.

Then the words,

The songs are sung,

We hear them from the tree tops,

From behind the walls,

In the fields of battle,

The stories of the Squirrel from the Black Forest,

We pray,

For him to come from the south,

We beg,

For him to march pass the lonely watch tower,

We called out,

For the legend tells us too,

But we still fear.

Aye, fear the beasts from the darkness,

The ones from the ground; deep below,

They come up and devour all of us,

None shall save us,

And we are all doom,

Where is this savior from the Black Forest?

-Thomas Wet-Tail, The Green Bard of Well-Stone-

-The Old Tales of the Dragon-Heart Gauntlet-