Eucatastrophe!

“Ahh! Now here all we stand
as fire rages through all thy land.
Though thy air is full of rage
and wars countless do we wage,
we stand here happy
on this eloquent tapestry.

O! the bittersweet air,
‘cause the beast lurks not from his lair.
And though we party like there’s no tomorrow,
the air is filled soon with sorrow;
for the Armada has left the Port.
And to duty all those able report.”

A! It was on thy first night,
that thy maiden took flight.
She mounted Vanwë* and rode
to her secret abode.
Vanwë’s hooves against thy ground
was thy only sound around.
And though thy maiden looked not back,
she felt always in her heart, a sack,
a sack of lead.
Her lord knew not where she had fled.

Ai! in thy break of dawn, she came to thy port.
Thy centurions let her enter thy King’s Fort.
Thy King was not there
and no one knew where.
Without further ado, they let her board,
But a passenger she wasn’t, she was a hoard…

Ai! at mid-day, thy ship left thy harbor
and sadness lies at her heart’s core,
for thy Lord loved her dearly
and she deserted him quietly.
When two days had come to pass
she could see through the portside, land at last!
But, watch-boats came and surrounded them.
Eventually thy boats began to make hem.


O! eventually they docked and boarded,
their faces looked substantially rewarded.
They drew out their blades of iron and light
and thy sailors had on their faces, a look of fright!
Thy invading men held aloft their blades
which shined like a copper glade.
A man of some height nearly brought down his shaft of heaping metal
so quickly did he do so, you might think it was flower petal.

Alas! Into thin air did he vanish,
And his fellow fiends also were victims of a vanquish.

Eucatastrophe!

In her crate, she said thy prayer:
“ Ai! laurelaé maélinoria byurîsî hyurvalyë
arishian Jawekhwë laurQqipsi ishi-valyë!
Nai-hir-uva plezsh,
i laini-ash nglaurezsh!
Si-hai-laé ú hjilauredyé,
hjilauredyé.
Amen!
(Ai! golden-day dawns-quickly break-fast-they-do promptly-flee
swiftly-rising Moon-passes-under-world golden-Sun now flee!
May thee guide-me delightfully,
you’re no-longer-gold-and-godly!
Tell me clearly how I stop-thy-golden-rise,
stop-thy-golden-rise.
Amen!)”

“O! they come to burn thy City down,
but let’s hope thy Ocean has them drown.
Now we come to it
our enemies have wit,
they’re relentless,
they’re merciless,
they’re legit,
they’ll never quit.”

A! on thy third day she wanders,
on thy third day she ponders.
She hears a cry
and she doesn’t know why,
but she’s all-alone.
To her lord, she doesn’t know how she’ll condone,
but, she knows it has to be done.
A! on thy fourth day she takes a walk,
and to no one will she talk.
At length she comes to a melancholy hill
and it destroyed her will
to keep marching forward.
Yet still to thy hill she walks toward.

O! how thy hill stirred in her heart, dread,
to thy point that she might drop, drop dead.
Helter skelter she made way to some cool shelter,
For on a winter day, it was a swelter.

Nay! she was too slow, and thy heat took her.
Before her eyes, ominous looked thy weather…

Alas! she gathers strength enough
and she knows it’ll be tough,
but she knows as well, it has to be done,
and she knows best that it won’t be fun…

___________________________________________________

O! how thy Lord cried
for his lost bride
and deep inside
he knew his chances were wide.

Alas! he came to his senses
and he smelled the roses.
His mind grew wise on thy rolling stone,
and at length all left him, and he was all alone;
alone to ponder what to do.
At last, he knew what he had to do.

A! quickly yet tediously he prepared
and in his mistake he was ensared.
He knew that to wage war
would do harm more
than good.
His house of wood
would have to be put to use
and save his neck from the nuse.

O! at length and with much regret, down he took his house;
when he saw running, a mouse,
it was chasing a woodlouse.
That was when it hit him.
And that was when his mind went limp.
He was a bug, facing a lion,
and so he picked up and played his violin.
To Be Continued. . .


*Note: Vanwë is the only character properly thus far named because it is only a miscellaneous character, and therefore not cenral to the whole.

*Note on Location: The Maiden left the city and castle of Atlantius, descendant of Apollo, which is named Atlantiopolis and fled to the King's fort, Nanopolis, which is 356 leagues from her former city. The Lord lived not in his citadel of marble and crystal, but rather in a wooden hall, much akin to the Golden Hall of Meduseld of Rohan in Middle-earth; due to his close love of Mother Nature, and he had his hall built in the forest of Othalion, that is Greenleaf in the High-tongue.

Note on the Years: This tale occurs in the 95th Heliosi year, that is 1045 in the count Solar Years.