Elfwood is the worlds largest SciFi & Fantasy community.
- 151329 members, 3 online now.
- 15013 site visitors the last 24 hours.
This is inspired by the second novel I plan to write, the sequel to the Order of the Dragon found in my library, and some of the characters in this have been swimming around in my head.
Seere Anastil is Anariel's twin brother, for those of you who have read Order. For those of you who haven't read Order, “Lessers” is a term in my novel that is used to describe someone other than a dragon.
As for the abrupt ending, it's because I really have no idea how they are going to escape, haha. I've had this scene jumping around in my head for a while, and when my literature class called for another poem, I decided to turn the scene into a poem. Unfortunately, I still have to work on the actual surviving concept, heh. When I actually write out the scene, only the dragons will speak in riddles and rhymes (due to certain circumstances that created them. Three-headed dragons don't exist in my books), but for the purposes of the poem, everyone rhymes :).
My muse really is a pesky little thing.
Riddle, Riddle, Chant, and Rhyme
Riddle, Riddle, Chant, and Rhyme
A handsome elf crept into the cave,
to receive the answer to a question most grave.
A human panted next to him as he crawled,
looking utterly miserable and less-than-enthralled.
The elf’s sister had sent him on this quest,
to discover the identity of one so obsessed.
They had killed the tyrant six years ago,
but a loyal follower could not accept such a blow.
Whoever it was had sent a scroll,
saying they would pay for what he or she could not condole.
So, his sister the queen had sent him out
to ask the wisest of dragons what this was all about.
The handsome elf was quiet and careful,
but even he, so brave, nearly collapsed in fear when he heard voices quite awful.
“Dear sisters, someone has entered our cave.
My, my, they must be brave.”
“No, they are at best only idiots.
Stupid, imbecilic little bandits.”
“Should we welcome them in?
Perhaps it is their lives they will win.”
“Yes, I believe we should.
At the very least, they will taste especially good.
I have been bored in days of late.
It is they who have decided their fate.”
Together as one, they beckoned them in,
voices combining in a mystical chant that sent chills down the travelers’ skin.
“Come in, come in, Lessers of old.
We had forgotten you could be so bold.
So long has it been since travelers have entered our lair.
Please come in, or we will soon despair.
We have been lonely, so very much alone,
cursed for something our parents can never atone.
Our lives and memory seem to have been shelved.
Deep into danger, so you have delved.”
The elf and the human lay quiet as death,
finally understanding the taken-for-granted gift of breath.
They both knew this might be their last day;
if only they could keep the Grim Reaper a little longer at bay.
They approached the dragons in a fearful fashion,
the human imagining the brown, rough walls of his coffin.
He knew he would understand nothing that was about to be said.
Rhyming had been a thing for him that had always inspired dread.
The dragons, beautiful to behold in their deep shade of blue,
uncurled their serpentine necks to prepare for the discussion that would ensue.
Their eyes were sharp, vicious and gold with an evil glare,
and not one of the three heads showed mercy in their eagerness to snare.
“Riddle, riddle, chant and rhyme.
Only with them, shall we chime.”
Their voices were soft, rasping in their terrible hiss,
and as the right head rose up to speak, both knew it would be nothing like bliss.
“My name is Zereith.
How I long for you to feel my teeth.
Your journey may end this very day.
Perhaps you will become a nice entrée.”
The beginning rumbles of thunder sounded in the cave,
as each head, a terrible chuckle gave.
The middle head stretched up,
looking belittlingly on them like each was some pup.
“I am Zuné.
My, you all make such a nice little buffet.
Do not be scared, I am only teasing.
My sisters, however, may give you a harsher beating.”
The elf made a quick note as the head on his left stretched up to speak.
Perhaps some form of mercy from the middle he could seek.
“Zak’ona is my name.
Beware the cave that is about to go up in flame.
You will feel my breath before this day is done.
Even now, the human’s complexion is ashen.”
“Why can’t you just talk in normal sentences!” the human suddenly cried.
He snapped his mouth shut a second too late, wishing he could hide.
All three heads snapped to the human as one.
Angry smoke leaked between vicious teeth because of what the human had done.
“You are quite rude, you insufferable man!
Shut your mouth tight before we stick you in a pan.
Sizzle and scorch, crisp and churn.
We will take much pleasure in watching you burn!”
The human nodded so fast, his head nearly fell.
Even he, so bad at rhyming, understood that verse quite well.
The clever elf stepped in to save the day,
lying and saying the human was a slave earning his pay.
The wise dragons, however, did not believe him.
The three exchanged amused looks about the lie that had been made on a whim.
“Lies, lies, the clever elf spins.
Just look at the way he grins.
He knows of our power,
the way we can strike like an adder.
He knows of our mind,
our telepathic bind.
Why would he protect one belonging to mankind?”
“He is a friend,” the elf replied.
“One who needs constant protection from his own mouth and pride.
My lie was not meant to insult you, Mighty Three, but only to distract you.
If you devour him now, I will not ask the question and bid you adieu.”
“We know this question, this matter.
You wonder, clever elf, if we have an answer.”
The elf nodded politely,
bowing low to ensure the situation did not become bloody.
“Wyrms we’re called, but wyrms we’re not;
foolish Lessers for accepting what was taught.
The true meaning of ‘wyrm’ is what you seek.
Work fast to stop this terrible mystique.
The red-headed elf comes to settle a score
with the servant of one the Anastils abhor.”
The elf felt his heart fall to his feet,
and though he knew the answer immediately, he felt defeat.
Seeré Anastil was his name,
and it was his sister and he who had ended the tyrant’s game.
The true meaning of “wyrm” he knew quite well,
but the realization caused him to shiver and yell.
The tyrant’s servant had been a snake,
a wicked, powerful creature who left death in her wake.
Ssa had been her name,
but the serpent only loved to hurt and maim.
It was she who had sent the scroll, he knew.
But now, he really was at a loss of what to do.
“Wyrm means ‘serpent’,” the elf told the dragons.
Evil glee soared in their hearts as they rose up like demons.
“Yes, yes, you have solved our test,
but now you must stay in payment for being such a pest.
Do not go, do not leave.
Fall deep into our magical weave.
You will find your deepest desires,
but hurry fast before your life expires.
So long has it been since the taste of sweat meat.
Feel now our breath and its terrible heat!”
And now my great story is done,
for the poem has become much to long to sit and listen.
But what is the fate of these brave travelers, you ask?
Perhaps I will tell you when the answer, I myself, can unmask.
Even the author cannot know all that goes on,
and I find that my muse is now gone.
By Jess L. Rhapsodos
|Imminent Destruction||The Order of the Dragon Chapter I|
|Siren Introduction.htm||The Elven Outcast|
|The Fall of Babylon.htm||Behind the Mask|