The Legend of Nicadiema (part two)

(If you haven't read the first part, it is in an earlier post.)

The next day, the king summoned the prince to come to him in the Great Hall. Standing outside the door waiting to be called in, Prince Anori was almost certain his father would not allow him to go on this quest. “He always said my name meant ‘Safe’, and as long as I was in his hands, I would not come to harm. He doesn’t want me to leave, for he knows I will no longer be under his protection. He does not want me to die, even for my people.” Just then one of the servants came and motioned for him to come. “Now we shall hear his answer,” Anori thought. The massive oak doors swung open, and the Prince, walking erect with confidence, entered the Hall.

The prince stopped in front of the King’s throne, and bowed low. “What be your decision, Oh my father?” Prince Anori asked.

The king’s steady gaze met with that of his son. “I have inquired of all of my knights, and none would go on this quest for my people. I have sent messengers out to the nearby castles, and still I could not find one who would go. As you have said, if this beast is not destroyed, the people will be destroyed. You must go on this quest.”

The Prince nodded. “Am I to go alone?”

“No, I have selected twelve knights that are willing to go on this adventure under your leadership. They await you in the courtyard. They shall go with you, and help you as much as they can, but it is up to you to slay the Lantor.” The Prince bowed once more, and turned towards the door. As he left, his father called, “May the stars watch over you, my son.”

Prince Anori looked back, and smiled. “I thank you, father, and may they watch over you as well.”

With this, father and son parted, neither knowing if they would see the other ever again.

* * * *

As the knights rode through the countryside, it did not seem as though anything was terribly wrong. Or at least, at first. As time went on, signs of the Lantor became more evident. The faces of the villagers became more careworn, and fear shone in their eyes.

As they rode through one village, the people eyed them with curiosity, but one of them, suspicious, called to them, “Who are you? What do you wish of us? Have you come to take what is ours?”

The others hushed him, and whispered, “What if they have come to rescue us? Do not offend them! The one leading them seems to be royalty.” Hearing this, the prince reigned in his horse, and turned in his saddle to face the villagers.

“You speak rightly. We have come to destroy the Lantor and to free you from his terror. I am prince Anori, and I am leader of this company.” The people gaped at him in astonishment. They had not realized that their guess had been right: here was the prince himself, here to save them! The villagers now welcomed them gladly, and urged them to stay the night there.

The next day, the prince inquired as to where they might find the Lantor. One of the men there spoke up and said, “The village that was destroyed when we sent the messenger is but a few miles from here. But there is no one there now; the Lantor killed many of them, and the rest have fled. However, a little ways beyond is another small town, and there you will find those that can tell you more of the Lantor.” Anori thanked all the villagers for their kindness, and promised to return once the Lantor was slain.

The Battle Between Redcross and Sansfoy

This is my most recent poem, in dactylic tetrameter. I can't say I'm very proud of it, but I promised to put all my poetry for school on here, so here it is. I don't know how much sense it will make for those of you who haven't read the first book of Edmund Spenser's The Fairy Queen, but I can tell you that Spenser did a much better job than I have here. I highly recommend that you read The Fairy Queen, it's a wonderful piece of classic fantasy


The Battle Between Redcross and Sansfoy

There was a woman as false as could be,
Tricking the innocent, never to flee
Her name was Fidessa, though no man e'er knew
In truth was Duessa, two faces she drew.

Redcross knight she deceived, drew him away
Making him think she did love him that day,
When really destruction for him did she want
Taking him to a bad pagan to taunt.

Waged they a battle, the blood it did flow
Time after time they exchanged blow for blow,
Till Redcross did smite him, he fell to the ground
The battle he'd lost, crumpled he in a mound.

Some Haiku

Most Haiku has three lines, and the first one has five syllables, the second seven, and the third five. This first one is like that.

Digger in the sand
Upside-down cone pyramid
Tiny ant lion.


This one is the other kind, where the syllables go six-eight-four. I like this better, mostly because it's not used as much.

A deer flies by like the wind
At it's heels, a mountain lion
Stalking his lunch


Here's another one in 6-8-4.

Lots of books on my shelf
Wonderful worlds I've lived in
Walking in dreams


And another.

Snowflakes fall to the ground
White swirls outside my window
Beautiful cold


One more to go.

A castle, high on a hill
Pennants flying on the towers
Rustic majesty of old

The Legend of Nicadiema (part one)

This is a story I wrote a while back, and I've been revising it. I didn't write a poem this week, so I thought I could put part of this story on here. This isn't all of it, by no means! I'll be posting the rest, all in good time.

A messenger galloped up the road that led to Hillsfare Castle. He had ridden long and hard, and his horse’s sides were heaving, its neck flecked with foam. At the gate, the watchman called “Who goes there?”

“A messenger of the people, sent to the king,” the weary man managed to call out. The drawbridge fell with a clang, and the horse, his head hanging from exhaustion, walked across it into the courtyard. Stable boys hurried to help the man dismount, but he was so weak one of the boys had to support him while the others led his horse to the stables. The boy looked with curiosity into the careworn face, but did not question him. He gently led him across the courtyard, to the Great Hall.

The floor of the Hall was of stone, and high above arched the massive ceiling. It was so high the top was shrouded in shadows. The Hall was empty, except for a long table stretching from the doorway to the end of the hall. At the far end of the room, sitting at the head of the table, was the king. He sat erect, his white beard flowing over his chest, his hands folded on his lap.

Upon their entering, the king looked inquiringly at the messenger. “What tidings do you bring, man of the people?”

The messenger raised his head, and took a deep breath. “I come to tell you the Lantor has struck. He is like a huge wildcat with wings sprouting from his shoulders, his jaws dripping with saliva and blood, his claws sharp and terrible. This beast is killing many of the people, destroying their crops, and wiping out their villages. A man from the village near to my own told of his little girl, around the age of twelve, a shepherdess of her own flock. That day she was out in the field with her flock, playing her flute. It was drawing near evening, and she was preparing to return home, when she realized something was frightening the sheep. They bleated loudly, and rolled their eyes in terror. Then to her horror, the Lantor came crashing out of the forest. He scattered her sheep, killing all those he could catch. The girl, despite her fear, attacked the Lantor with the only weapon she had: her shepherd’s staff she used in herding her animals. She stabbed him in the eye, and he howled in pain and in rage. Beating his massive wings in anger, he swiped at her with one of his huge, clawed feet, knocking her senseless, and with another, ended her life.” The messenger stopped to catch his breath. A tear ran down the king’s wrinkled cheek. “What was the girl’s name?”

“Her family called her Janua,” the messenger answered.

“We shall always remember her for her courage.”

The messenger looked up again. “My lord, if there are no people left, there will be no one to remember her. What we need is a brave knight that will fight the Lantor for us, and destroy it.” The messenger lifted his gaze from the king’s face, and fixed it on the young man by his side. He was Prince Anori, and he had been silently listening to the messenger’s tale, and now he looked to the king. “Father, I will go fight this beast.”

The king shook his head. “No, my son, you are my only heir; if you were to die in the attempt, who would rule after me?”

“Roana can rule in my stead. You know my sister could govern all of Nicadiema.” The king muttered something about a woman being on the throne, and then turned to the messenger. “You are hungry, and in need of rest. My servants will lead you to a room where you can rest and recover.”

As the messenger was led out of the Hall, Prince Anori came to stand in front of his father. “If I do not go, then who can you send that would succeed in this endeavor?” The king rose from his throne, his eyes never leaving the prince’s face.

“My son, I cannot send you on this perilous journey. Your sister could indeed rule exceedingly well, but what would the people think? The men could not bring themselves to be subject to a woman. It just does not work that way.”

“But the people are dying. If someone does not slay this beast, there will not be anyone left in the kingdom to rule over.”

The king sighed, and looked away. “I will give you my answer by tomorrow.”

With this the Prince bowed to his father, turned, and left the hall.