From the Sea

by ForeverFreest

Part Three: Golden

Young Aurum of Scefing, princess of the horned ones
Though never she claimed it, nor strutted above
But humbly she walked through the realm she was heir to
And truly and tenderly filled it with love

So great was her heart and so deep her compassion
It ailed her to see all the clans gird for war
Unwilling to watch as the warriors assembled
She waited and wept and she prayed unto T'or

For strength she required, and strength he would grant her
But never in ways she had grown in her ken
The gods, as they say, grant good help to the helpless
Though riddles they work, as is now, it was then

So e'en though he heard her, and heartily holp her
She fain would have missed it, and thought him remote
If not for the swamp, where she heard and remembered
Recalling and grasping, and staying afloat

When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue

But now we locate ourselves far from the present
And tarrying long for the grip of the sane
So tearing ourselves from the mist of the future
We lastly arrive at the present again

And rightly we find ourselves just at the moment
Of close conference between daughter and sire
For Scefing would not heed young Aurum's petitions
And sent her out from him with countenance dire

And e'en as she pivoted once more to beg him
Entreating that he reconsider her plea
His stony-set silence spoke all that was in him
His soul sealing solid, he sat stolidly

And sadly she turned from his presence and cowled
Her face, lest the tears she shed should her betray
And tiredly trotted past trestles and towers
And gave up for lost all the blessed of the fae

When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue

So sorrowful sauntered she, strolling in silence
And silently screaming for faith to be kept
At last she had journeyed straight up to the drawbridge
And leaning against it, she knelt down and wept

And as the first teardrop slid down from its scabbard
And as it arrived at its home on Oor's bride
The crystal she shed was wrought eerily sculpted
A rainbow, a vision it 'parted, and died

But 'fore they had passed or she reckoned to dreaming
The things she had seen of her future and mine
She lit in her spirit, her heart, and her Ahn'm
The ghost of a flame of a mem'ry to shine

And ghastly and ghoulish the ghost grew gigantic--
At least, in the way of a thought in her mind
A reason rare resolute, rising but restful
Convinced her to lose all, that all she might find

When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue

So then she wrought steady her hammering heartbeat
And deeply inhaling, prepared for the task
Set her by immortals, who reckoned her suited
Still, strong, and steadfast, and full as a flask

Of love and devotion to every last creature
Who sentient e'er made his home on the earth
So ponies were fae-filled and flyers and farmers
All gifts and all-blessed of the gods, they had worth

Not valued by reason or pondering equation
Of services due to the army or state
Not valued at vision or cursory uptake
A glance by one lacking in wisdom and Fate

Not merely constituents, parts of a wholeness
Though wholly they stood and divided they paled
But fashioned by gods, they themselves bore their likeness
And thus all the glory of godness unveiled

When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue

But part from philosophy, lovers of wisdom
And watch for a moment as tendrils unfold
As fools in their folly would fain forge a fact'ry
Of hatred and heartlessness, trouble untold

But not for the sight of such wrong do we tarry
And so we must light on some new place to scry
And so we like eagles shall glide o'er the landscape
And listen and learn as we watch and we fly

So hark to the vict'ry of Verity's vessel
Young Aurum of Scefing who packed up her stores
Not overly laden, but set for the journey
A quest for the kindness which virtue restores

She lit to her chambers and there sat composing
A missive of madness and mercy in one
Farewells it contained for her father and family
So quilled she and sealed it at Sleep of the Sun

When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue

So on the next night as the mists from the marshlands
Rolled over the land in their pale, ghindly way
A solitary pony stood shrouded in moonlight
Which gorgeously garnered itself up in grey

The guards on the ramparts, though cautious of ponies
Of wings or of soil and not of their race
And kept a sharp eye on the ground they were holding
Did not see a unicorn steal from the place

And thusly Young Aurum made good her evasion
And ran from her home with no qualms in her heart
She knew that the end is quite often beginning
A newer and brighter and wonderful start

So never she worried, nor thought of returning
'Til that blessed day she'd arrive to work peace
She trusted the gods, but as Gideop of olden
She'd set them a trial, and this was their fleece

When they came over the wake
In a tide of crimson hue
When the anvil rang, and the landers sang
Of the bright ones bathed in blue

Author's Note:

Whoa. Well, that's done. Finally. I feel so, so, so , so bad...

I'm sorry. But--

Love you guys!

--ForeverFreest

Comments

[ForeverFreest]

2746543

The grammar-- I find it to glimmer quick
In the back of my mind it's a dimmer stick
Than the wand of the magic
Of speed-- it's quite tragic
And also, by now, it's a limerick.

[ForeverFreest]

2775348

Thank you,

I am currently at work on the next installment, and

The Norse.

I've always loved writing poetry; I had no idea it would be so well-received on this site, though.