Fleetfoot: Lore of the Aerial Dancer.

Flatland faded, grassland passed.
The forests burgeoned.
Massive, dense, black.
Tree possessed of leaves,
Meters wide and deepest green.

Rolling hills pressed upward.
Through the loam,
Through the moss.
The forest giants,
Halfway to the heavens,
Already were they.
Now, now...
The bedrock, itself,
Seemed to shove them away.
Up to the stars.
Up to the skies.
Away from the mortal world.
All the pain, all the cries.

It was here,
Deep, deep, deep,
At the very heart of this wood.
Among the bluffs,
Among the cliff and olden trees,
A boneyard stood.
It had grown out,
Of the stones.
Out of the earth, dense and rich.
Amidst the trees.
Away from mortal eyes.

It was here,
Here amongst the sentinels of the wild,
The others came, came to bury a child.
She, who was dying in a mortal world,
She of dragon blood.
She, who was meant to change the world.
A battle for life, from the first breath on.
This Elven princess, dark and fair.
She fought on,
Fought and tried...
But it was for naught.
Each breath she drew,
Each beat of her heart.
A losing battle, dying art.

She was fading,
Like the twilight.
Like the dawn.
Like the night.
The ending of her days was in her sight.
She whispered to her mother...
That Lady Elf to take her down...
Away from the White Tower.
Allow her to be herself.

She knew what she was.
She knew what she had been born.
She knew as surely as she knew the light of morn'.
This is why she battled,
'Tis is why she cried.
This is why she clung to life,
Why she would die.

The fragile, spun glass shell,
Of her Lady Elf mother.
The molten silver blood,
The burning heart and soul,
Of her dragon born father.
A child of beast and Elven blood.
A singularity, a rarity.
A riddle.
A body and soul at war.
Her heart,
The proving ground.

So from her mother,
That weeping, broken,
Lady Elf.
She extolled a promise.
Secured peace for herself,
Her aching bones and tattered soul.
Away from the eyes of the White Tower.
To the very roots of the mountains.
To the deep, verdant glade.
To the final resting place,
Of the creatures,
Of forgotten lore.
To boneyard...
That lost, misty vale.

To the boneyard.
To the far flung hills.
Away from the watching, critical eyes,
The ever scritching quills.
To show her true face to the stars,
To sing to the low slung moon.
To feel the kiss of the dew,
Upon her burning skin.
To draw a breath free of judgment.
To finally be...
Simply free...

The weeping, torn Lady Elf,
Knew.  Knew. Knew.
In her heart this was a promise she could not deny.
This child, her child...
Knew her blood, her history,
And far too much lore.
It was this child who suffered.
This child who cried.
This child who battled.
A child, who soon would die...

So down and away,
In the dark of the night.
In the black of the moon,
The Elven princess, dark and fair,
Was whisked away,
The wind kissing, tugging,
At her hair.
On the back of a stallion,
Massive and grey,
She was lifted up and borne away.
A single knight,
He, too, Dragon born.
Took her...
Carried her on.
A mighty warrior's stride,
A powerful, bounding hoof.

Striding, striking...
Flint chips, shod hooves.
Sparks flying...
One foot.
Two feet.
Three feet.
Four...Hoof touch.
Striding, riding, running,
Once more...

Rollicking, rolling,
Racing down and away.
Away.  Away.  Away.
From the eyes,
From the ears.
Into the secrets...
Chasing a path only those of lore blood know.
Unicorn. Dragon. Gryphon.
Chimaera. Centaur. Sphinx.
Faerie. Pooka. Dryad.
All knew of the boneyard.
Its history.
Its legacy bound,
In the blood,
In the bones.

One foot...holding.
Two feet...pressing.
Three feet...pounding.
Four feet...racing.
Down and away.
On and on,
Out of sight.
Into the dark.
Into the night.

One hand...reaching.
Two eyes...beseeching.
Two ears...listening.
One voice...singing.
Into the forest,
Deep and shadowed.
Up from the glen.
Ov'r the rise.
'Cross the mountains.
To the pass.
On to the glaciers...
Holding fast.

One foot...clinging.
Two feet...climbing.
Three feet...reaching.
Four feet...racing.
Time is short...
A promise looms...
A doom, impeding...
A soul in need.
A head leaning.
Eyes dreaming.
A heart slowing.
A child, knowing.

Dreams brightening,
A roll of thunder.
A streak of lightning.
Eyes dimming.
A mother's tears trailing.
To the pass...
Beyond the gorge...
Hell fire and demon's forge.
One hand...reaching.
Into the night,
Unto the stars...
A cry, a voice,
Beloved by all...

Warrior's stride,
Ringing out strong and true.
Sparks and flint...
A curse of blue.
Over the snowpack.
Holding tight...
Pressing.  Pressing.  Pressing.
Knight.
Weary, worn, caring.
Elven princess, dark and fair.
Heartbeat fading.
Breathe...breathe...breathe.
Deep of the cold clear air.

Hanging on...
A fraying thread, a battle lost.
Fading eyes...
Clouds are heavy,
A gathering storm.
On and on and on.
Holding tight.
Holding form.
'Cross the mountains.
Through the pass.
Down the glacier...
Hooves touch grass.

Snow swirls...whirling, waltzing.
Evergreen, fir...Mystical rowan tree.
Green and white and gray and gold.
Hold.  Hold. Hold.
Strong and tight.
Rushing, racing...
Onward, onward bounding knight.
White and gold...
Shining, gleaming, glowing...
Through the snow.
Through the cold.
Violet pools, deep and vibrant...
Out of the mist...
Flies the migrant...

Up from the glade.
Up from the glen.
Out of the vale,
Away from her den...
She, who flees,
She, who flies.
Fleet feet striding ov'r the ground.
She, once spared,
In her hour of darkest need.
From the White Tower came the voice,
The voice that shielded her,
Mind and heart and horn and soul.

Now.  Now.  Now.
It was one of the White Tower,
Who raised a voice in dire need.
A child of Elven flesh.
And blood of a Lore.
She, who was touched by grace.
She, who was now being tested by fire.
The fire of the dragon's blood,
And incandescent soul...
Her mortal form was failing.
The end in sight of her,
Fading, darkening eyes.

Fleet of foot.
A gift of speed.
And of another, coveted power.
Blood of silver...
Rich and smooth.
The power to heal...
To save a life.
A gift, until that call,
Remained her secret...
Now there was another in need.
A child, who soon was to know the skill.
A secret shared.
And she,
Elven princess, dark and fair,
Would keep it.

Fleet feet fly...
Bound and touch.
Fly.  Fly. Fly.
There is no time.
Striding fast, striding hard.
'Cross the mountains,
Into the night...
Running.  Fleeing.  Racing.
To find the knight.
To find the child.
To answer the call.
Fleet feet...the need.
The need for speed.
Now...please...now.
Heed.  Feet.  Heed.

One foot...touching.
Two feet...reaching.
Three feet...searching.
Four feet...leading.
Clinging.  Climbing.  Bounding.
Aerial dancer...cloven foot.
Striking snow, holding the ice...
As worlds of green and white,
Winter and summer,
Collide.
Fog and mist and rain and snow.
Flakes whirl, wind blow.
The crushing of snow.
A crackle of ice.
The ringing of iron.
A shod hoof comes...

One foot...racing.
Two feet...needing.
Three feet....pounding.
Four feet...heeding.
Down.  Down.  Down.
The ridge and over the rise.
Plunging into the trees.
Chasing the mist,
The phoenix as it flies.
West.  West. West.
Screams the fire in the blood.
Elven princess, dark and fair.
Dragon knight, heart laid bare.
Shod hooves, racing on...

A stone...
Skitters, scumbles, tumbling down.
A shod hoof stumbles,
Crumbles...
Throwing its rider as it hits the ground.
To the air.
To the heavy, hanging mist,
Shrouded trees, decaying leaves.
The scent of earth.
The scent of winter,
Death,
And a new, deep fresh breath.
Dragon born, recall the lore.
Reaching, pulling,
Seeking from the depths once more.

To smoke, to mist.
Amorphous silken plume.
Twining, twisting,
Pearl and blue and purple and grey.
A new face,
A true face,
Flashes in the gloom.
Amethyst hide and a streak of quicksilver,
Flicker and gleaming,
A wing stroke,
A fluttering pulse,
Up and down.
Down and up.
Stroke and flicker...
A crushing fate, averted.

Out of the shadows, a creature of legend.
Fledgling, weryling.
Dragon fly...
A sheering, shimmering,
Evergreen form...old gold glowing.
Hot blood flowing.
Faltering, fluttering...
Weryling, fight.
Hold the form.
Battling for height.
Away from the ice.
Away from the fall,
Tripped by a stone,
But never....
Never.  Never.  Never.
Shall dragon wings fall.

Between the trees,
Monstrous and twisted,
Bobbing, whirling...
Swirling, weaving...
She persisted.
Away from the Tower.
Away from the ever watching,
Critical eyes...she now was.
A form...
Slight and sleek,
The winds' beloved herald.
She rode the currents...
Yearned for more.
Mortal guise, hid her no more.
On fledgling wings,
She learned...
To stretch, to fly...
To reach deep,
To stifle the cry.

To wing, to wing,
The world away...
Oh!...How she soared.
Soared.  Roared.  Shone.
That day...
She cast aside her Elven face.
Smiled at the moon, the stars...
As a dragon,
Gave the clouds, chase.
She flew as long and hard as her heart could hold.
Up from the wood, away from the glacier.
Farewell to the far flung mountains.
The valleys, the dells.
High.  High.  High.
Into the sky.
Unto the stars.
Onward.  Onward.
Breathing.  Burning.  Gleaming.
Of the clear, cold air...

Time suspended,
Still and silent and perfect,
Her world in that single moment, was.
Bathed in the light of the stars,
The low slung moon.
The bloody, newborn sun...
Regal and savage.
Revered and perfect...
Ancient and wild.
She was the Draconian Emperor's child.
A true form,
At last to the world, she showed.
The secret she kept...
A voice and wings,
As white and clear as a new fallen snow.
A breath of ice, a song of fire.
To unfurl her wings,
Her last unspoken desire.

Her soul was at peace.
Her aching, burning heart soothed.
The relentless call of her lore blood,
Assuaged...
At last, she knew she was free.
She folded her wings...
Singing, falling...
As she let the fight be.
Back.  Back.  Back.
Into the clouds.
Into the fog,
A cloak of mist,
She fell...
Knowing her bones would scatter across the dell.

Dragon knight, he had sworn an oath.
To serve, to protect...
Both shadow and ghost.
As the stumble sent the airborne.
He felt her shiver...
Morph and shift...
Beneath her in a never ending,
Knot he wove.
Twisting.  Swirling.  Hovering.  Contorting.
His wing stretched out...
Massive and golden.
He was a prince.
A dark, dark...
Lore, of olden...days.
He served the princess, knew her ways.
With the heart of a warrior,
She took to the sky...
Looked out upon her far distant shore.
It was her final fight.
Her last beloved...goodbye.

There upon the brink of the world.
At the threshold of the stars.
Upon the last breath of night.
At the birth of the day...
She folded her wings.
Let her heart pound...
She flung back her head and let her song rise.
Singing, ringing, a perfect
Liquid silver sound...
Of bells and snow and a baby's joyful laugh.
Pure and perfect.
Fractal and clean.
It was a sound, a sight...
Only stars and dragons,
Had felt, had seen...
The dance of a dragon,
Unfettered and free.
All fire and heart and glory worn.

She hovered there upon eternity's brink...
Breathing the deep frozen air.
Slowly, oh so slowly...
The molten fever of her blood began to cool.
The frenzied agonized pounding of her heart gentled.
Her enormous gossamer wings, fluttered...
Slowed and stilled.
Over she rolled, her soul at peace.
Down.  Down.  Down.
She went into a smooth liquid spiral.
Down.  Down.  Down.
She drifted as a leaf upon the wind.
Her life fading as she floated down.
Great deep, dreaming eyes drooped.
Closing completely as a heartbeat,
Grew softer and softer and softer...
Until utter silence reclaimed the heavens.

She followed the mists.
Traced a path amidst the clouds.
A ribbon of amethyst, drifting down.
Plumes of pearl, of blue, of grey...
Cloaked the form,
She had battled to hide until that fateful day.
A stream of gentle, living flame.
A breath of ice.
A voice of wind.
A heart of rich, earthy dreams...
A spirit at last allowed to shine amongst the stars,
Even as she fell...
Knowing her bones would scatter across the dell...

Her voice was now still.
Heart and songs silent.
But rising from the cloud bank...
A massive tide of green and old gold.
Singing, heaving, soaring...
In his heart agony roaring...
This was not the last.
This was not the end.
No.  No.  No.
By damn, no...
It would not be...
Fire streaked across the sky.
Thunder rattled the mountains.
The glacier bucked, trembled in awe...
As a voice screamed...
Please.  Please.  Please...
Who was it that saved you from the maw?
The wings of my brother...
Saved your life...
Stripped away the ripping teeth of the demon's jaw...

Now.  Now.  Now.
I cry unto you...
Fleet of foot...
Aerial dancer,
You of nimble, cloven stride...
Repay the mercies of the Dragon born.
Save our princess...
Spare this gentle, falling form.
A gift you have...
Aid she needs...
Peace she has found,
But never, ever, ever,
Has she truly lived until this day.
Where behind the face of the mortals,
She was bound.

The gift of foresight, in the blood of my family,
It does flow...
In our hearts and in our heads.
Keen sight and the shadows of things to come,
We do know...
Down she spirals, the world with her as she falls.
Now.  Now.  Now.
Unto the Last,
I do call...
Mountain crumble...
Bleeding sea...
Please.  Please.  Please.
Take not the Princess from me...

A cloven stride breeched the heart,
Of that legendary, blood known glade.
Shadow hovered...
Close and dark and dense.
The bones of the lore,
The ancient.  The fallen.  The forgotten.
Called.  Called.  Called.
To the blood, the bones
Of the weryling.
Then the voice, laced with agony,
Rose above the songs,
The din of the ghostly symphonies...
Echoing.  Echoing. Echoing.
In her head.

To the skies,
She lifted her dark and dreaming eyes.
To the knight errant, his heart wrung cry.
Her voice unto the air,
She did reply...
Elven princess, dark and fair.
She of Elven birth.
And blood of a Lore.
Amongst the stars, beneath the gaze of the moon,
She does soar...
Fluttering, floating, drifting down.
Her soul at peace.
Her spirit renowned.
Valiant and vigilant,
She held, battling,
On and on and on.
Until at last her strength is gone.

Down.  Down.  Down.
She floats,
Spiraling, a silken twist in the wind.
A banner of the Dragons.
The last princess of the Lore.
To the ancient boneyard,
Thus you have brought her,
Laid her before Death's door.
Far from home,
In the depths of the night,
You, Knight Errant, have carried her.
From a brutal, crushing fall,
To your wings, it had you rushing.
Smoke and cloud and shivering mist.
To the amorphous, immortal,
You made her shift.
To wing.  To wind.  To wild abandon.
She has flown.
The taste of the wind upon her tongue.
Now.  Now.  Now.
In the darkest hour.
My name to the stars you doth cry.

Why.  Why.  Why.
Queries the quicksilver blood in my veins.
The answer, I know,
Lies with every breath I draw.
For aeons ago, upon a stormy,
Wave torn shore...
A dragon, took flight, to wing, to sky,
Once more.
A demon, a massive gaping maw...
After my horn, my blood,
It hunted tooth and claw.
My songs, my rage the heavens,
The White Tower heeded.
They of the Lore,
Dragon blood came when most desperately needed.
A shield of wings,
Bronze and silver,
Swooped in diverting the stinging,
Killing strikes...
Upon that beach beneath,
A dragon's talons, a unicorn's horn.
The maw breathed its last,
Come that brittle, battle torn morn'.

A debt of life...
Of blood...
Of final, fading hope...
Was incurred that day.
So now...
At the brink of the world,
With foresight and knowledge leading.
You call unto the Last...
Fleetfoot.
Pleading.
So unto you I say this day.
Bring her swiftly.
Bring her.  Bring her.  Bring her.
This way.
Into the heart of the Lore.
Into bowels of this glade.
By the Unicorn's Last Horn.
Never shall hope fade...

Green and silver and amethyst and gold.
Swirling.  Twirling.  Twisting.
Down.  Down.  Down.
Talons catching.
Wings holding.
A spirit fading...
A heart pleading.
Noses.  Eyes.  Toes.
Leading...
To the ground.  To the glade.
Chasing the horn.
That silver blade.
Out of the clouds.
Through the mists
Cloak fog torn away.
A Unicorn's voice crying...
Here.  Here.  Here.
Come.  Come.  Come.
This way.
A flash of gold, a glimpse of pearl,
Green and amethyst,
Whirling, swirling bearing down.
Down.  Down.  Down.
To the glade.
To the ground.

Trees,
Olden sentinels, knowing eyes,
Watched,
Beards of grey green moss,
Concealing the dragons,
As they flew,
Slewing left,
Twisting right,
Between the ageless trees,
Swift and true and tight.
And through the mist.
Between the trees,
She came...
One foot...fleeting.
Two feet...bound.
Three feet...rushing.
Four feet...racing.
A flutter of wings
A gust of wind...
One foot...touching.
Two feet...down.
Three feet...planted.
Four feet...upon the ground.
Wings unfurled, feral Loren eyes.
Gold and silver.
Ancient and wise.

Fleet feet flying ov’r the loam.
Aerial dancer,
Nearly there ov'r the moss.
Flowing with the stream.
On and on and on.
This is no dream.
In that glade,
Dense and shadowed and forbidden.
Face to face to face...
Came the last unicorn.
The Knight and Princess
Of the Dragons.
The knick of a horn across a heel.
A welling of blood.
The power, the gift of healing.
To the princess,
Her life spared,
The world's fate, with it they were sealing.

The memories fell ripe and heady.
Once more the call of the White Tower.
Out of the dark its horn, singing.
Heed.  Heed.  Heed.
For this is indeed the hour of our greatest need.
'Cross the boneyard,
Deep and green.
Past the long done deeds.
Up to the mountains.
Following the path.
Away from the woods.
Into the dark,
Unto the peaks and the pass,
Bitter and bleak...
Cloak of snow.
A blanket of fog.
A wisp of mist and she is gone.

One foot...holding.
Two feet...leading.
Three feet...bounding.
Four feet... leaping.
From stone to snow to glacial crown.
Up and up and up.
Into the heights....
Not even the warriors dare look down.
The raging, ranting
Of the wind, of snows, of the storm.
Pressing onward.
Upward, holding form.
Cloven hoof, holding strong,
Holding true.
A horn of silver,
Slicing, burning through the night.
Dancer's stride holding tight...