"Please, Papa! Recite the story!"
"It's well past your sleep time, and your mother is already cross with me! If you don't go to sleep, the gnomes can't come!"
The little girls mouth turned up and her eyes welled. "I promise I'll go to sleep right after! She can't be mad if I'm already asleep when she comes to check on me!"
The great barrel of his chest lifted as he took in a deep breath and then let it sigh out as he gave a surrendering, "Fine," to those bright blue eyes.
"Settle in, and I will start."
He smirked a little as she shuffled deeper under her covers and pulled them up to her chin, her eyes as large as platters as she watched him in anticipation.
He took another deep breath and his voice was deep and rumbling as he started out quietly, his eyes turning internal as he spoke, washed with images, with memory.
Twas the Night before Vlaspar and all through the village,
Not a creature was stirring, not even to pillage.
The Axes were hung near the door with great care,
in hopes that the Fretinitacht would always be ware.
The People were huddled all safe in their homes,
each having made offerings to the protective ground gnomes.
When out on the battlements the great horn did sound,
The people all arming and out their doors they did bound.
The moon 'hind the clouds was nowhere to be found,
The people would have to trust their feet knew the ground.
With a strike of a flint light burst into being,
Passed torch to torch, the darkness now fleeing.
"Hold steady!" "Hold Strong!" came all down the lines,
For something was stirring out their in the vines.
White knuckles on weapons and torch handles held,
Each warrior now wondering if they might be felled.
The rain started to patter and clatter and splat,
The people long ready, their faces held flat.
When up on the tower came out a great bellow,
"Tis not the dread Fretintacht! But our thought lost Fellow!"
The breath that was taken ran loud throw the crowd,
as the gates were pulled open and the warrior walked in furrow browed.
His hands raised for quiet and no one dared stir,
His eyes shown with anger that one dared not incur.
His voice shook as he open to say
"My friends I am glad to return to you this day!"
Eyes darted tween neighbors and friends and foes,
All wondering how he was here, sure to be a tale of woe.
"I'm sorry to say I'm the only one left,
of those that went hunting, though all warriors deft!"
His head hung in sorrow for those he had lost,
But rose once again, his haunted now with the truth of the cost.
He took a great breath and shifted his feet,
He knew what was said next would much more a treat.
"The dread beast is dead!" He called out with great power,
"No longer need for our people to run or cower!"
He reached back behind him and then raised his fist,
The great bloody horn with torch light was kissed.
The people all stood in stunned silence that night,
but then broke to cheers as they all lost their fright!
A red streak came rushing through the crowd,
around the great warrior, her arms circled round.
"I thought you long dead, I mourned you! You brute!"
He simply smiled and tugged out her old gift of a lute.
"Your music did save me, you dear love of mine.
Without this sweet treasure I'd be lost to those vines."
She looked up in fondness her heartbreak now mended,
And as he bent down with a kiss this tale is ended."
He smiled as he looked over and her great big eyes were now closed. His hand gently reaching out and stroking her bright red hair.
"I didn't call you a brute."
He smirked and stood up, walking over to the open door where she'd propped herself in the opening with her hip, her arms crossed over her chest.
His hands came out, circling her middle and tugging her to him as a smile spread his face, coming closer to hers. "Take it up with the one that wrote the fell thing," his nose brushed over hers, "I just care to end the tale the way we have since that night and all the celebrations since." She smiled and shook her head, but kissed him, all the same.
"It's well past your sleep time, and your mother is already cross with me! If you don't go to sleep, the gnomes can't come!"
The little girls mouth turned up and her eyes welled. "I promise I'll go to sleep right after! She can't be mad if I'm already asleep when she comes to check on me!"
The great barrel of his chest lifted as he took in a deep breath and then let it sigh out as he gave a surrendering, "Fine," to those bright blue eyes.
"Settle in, and I will start."
He smirked a little as she shuffled deeper under her covers and pulled them up to her chin, her eyes as large as platters as she watched him in anticipation.
He took another deep breath and his voice was deep and rumbling as he started out quietly, his eyes turning internal as he spoke, washed with images, with memory.
Twas the Night before Vlaspar and all through the village,
Not a creature was stirring, not even to pillage.
The Axes were hung near the door with great care,
in hopes that the Fretinitacht would always be ware.
The People were huddled all safe in their homes,
each having made offerings to the protective ground gnomes.
When out on the battlements the great horn did sound,
The people all arming and out their doors they did bound.
The moon 'hind the clouds was nowhere to be found,
The people would have to trust their feet knew the ground.
With a strike of a flint light burst into being,
Passed torch to torch, the darkness now fleeing.
"Hold steady!" "Hold Strong!" came all down the lines,
For something was stirring out their in the vines.
White knuckles on weapons and torch handles held,
Each warrior now wondering if they might be felled.
The rain started to patter and clatter and splat,
The people long ready, their faces held flat.
When up on the tower came out a great bellow,
"Tis not the dread Fretintacht! But our thought lost Fellow!"
The breath that was taken ran loud throw the crowd,
as the gates were pulled open and the warrior walked in furrow browed.
His hands raised for quiet and no one dared stir,
His eyes shown with anger that one dared not incur.
His voice shook as he open to say
"My friends I am glad to return to you this day!"
Eyes darted tween neighbors and friends and foes,
All wondering how he was here, sure to be a tale of woe.
"I'm sorry to say I'm the only one left,
of those that went hunting, though all warriors deft!"
His head hung in sorrow for those he had lost,
But rose once again, his haunted now with the truth of the cost.
He took a great breath and shifted his feet,
He knew what was said next would much more a treat.
"The dread beast is dead!" He called out with great power,
"No longer need for our people to run or cower!"
He reached back behind him and then raised his fist,
The great bloody horn with torch light was kissed.
The people all stood in stunned silence that night,
but then broke to cheers as they all lost their fright!
A red streak came rushing through the crowd,
around the great warrior, her arms circled round.
"I thought you long dead, I mourned you! You brute!"
He simply smiled and tugged out her old gift of a lute.
"Your music did save me, you dear love of mine.
Without this sweet treasure I'd be lost to those vines."
She looked up in fondness her heartbreak now mended,
And as he bent down with a kiss this tale is ended."
He smiled as he looked over and her great big eyes were now closed. His hand gently reaching out and stroking her bright red hair.
"I didn't call you a brute."
He smirked and stood up, walking over to the open door where she'd propped herself in the opening with her hip, her arms crossed over her chest.
His hands came out, circling her middle and tugging her to him as a smile spread his face, coming closer to hers. "Take it up with the one that wrote the fell thing," his nose brushed over hers, "I just care to end the tale the way we have since that night and all the celebrations since." She smiled and shook her head, but kissed him, all the same.