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The Dragon Rider


Everyone sat around the old man, late that night, waiting for the story.
He always told a story, of the things he had seen, news he had heard, and there were always old requests, and new ones.
When everyone settled down, the man looked at them, and spoke. "In the many years I've lived,
Through all the ancient tales I've seived,
Nothing unto it's own fame lived,
Except for one dear man.
In the war from years ago,
A soldier lived, all did so,
With a voice so long and low,
With strange and wonderous eyes.
The war wages on, and both sides stung,
But few, to righteousness, still clung,
And surrender souned on good tongue,
The man stood up and cried,
He wept for blood needlessly shed,
He wept for those without a bed,
He wept for those who lost their head,
And the cry turned to a chant.
Now, strangest here is next what came,
Unto which no one can claim,
And foe what he got his fame,
A miracle was done.
Down from the sky, a Wyrm of gold,
As so in the tales of old,
And everone's breath grew cold,
As he went through enemy ranks.
Upon his back was the man,
A gleeming sword in his hand,
And Evil died on that land,
Fallen to the Dragon Rider.
Now here's the thing that most is feared,
After this both disappeared,
Even when the bodies were cleared,
Of the man, there was no sign.
Ever since, no one's known true,
Exactly, our saviour, who,
He was, or is today, no clue,
Whether the Dragon, or the Rider


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Thanks to Rune for this contribution!

 


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