Chapter the Third
Sable cast a lazy glance at Spencer, not showing a hint of remorse for what he had just done. With a snort, the dappled mare turned back to her hay and munched on it as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, Spencer lay sprawled on the stable walkway, rump sore from its sudden contact with Sable’s hoof. Spencer’s brow furrowed and his jaw muscles clenched tightly. Why did the creature do this to him? He had fed her, groomed her, started cleaning her hooves…and then she had kicked him, as if he were an annoying flea. Just as he was pushing himself off the ground, Zeth walked in.
Far on high
Soaring through the clouds
Smoke pours out
Flames shoot forth
Powerful wings beat
I gaze in awe
As it flies by
Beautiful, wonderful
I reach
But it’s too far
I slowly turn away
My friends call
They laugh when I say
“A Dragon”
I look back
And see it again
The head turns my way
I lift a hand and wave
He dives down
Closer, closer still
Almost on the earth
He soars away
I sigh and whisper and say
“Yes a Dragon”
Wild and frantic
The beating of his heart
As he clung to the horse's mane
And held on for dear life
The trees flew past
They ran swifter than eagles
An elven horse
With a hobbit on it's back
A slash of black
Amidst the colors of the trees
A stab of pain
In an ancient wound
How many days?
It seems like forever
The cold bite of steel -
No, no.
Harsh and shrieking
Their calls behind him
Almost drowned out
In the screaming of the wind
Rain misted down from the heavens and soaked into Spencer’s clothes and ran down his face. His brown hair was pasted to his skull by the moisture and his trousers and shirt clung to his skin uncomfortably. Redhawk’s hooves came down onto the now muddy road with a plop! noise, splattering muck up onto Spencer’s legs.
To read a book is travel swift
For though you sit, as in a trance,
The mind can journey far away
To Russia, England, Spain, and France.
The villains rush to make you pay
While you refuse to shift your stance.
Or you, yourself are in the fray,
Endeav'ring to halt the foe's advance.
Spencer sat in a tree with his two friends, Zeth and Brand, eating a tart red apple and basking in the cool autumn breeze. The three youths had finished their work in the fields and the head farmer, Rindor, had given them the rest of the day off. The three had immediately run to the farm kitchen and coaxed the cooks into giving them some food. With a flick of his wrist, Spencer threw his small apple core into the stream which gurgled beneath his dangling feet.
“Have you heard about what’s been happening in town?” Zeth asked once he had also finished his apple.
The shimmering dust from the faeries' wings
Settling like snow in an ancient grove
Collecting in the birch leaves as they descend
While the Elves and Dryads dance below
Withered ruins and firefly lights
Ivy leaves grow on the trunks of trees
The sliver sound of the harpist’s harp
While the Elves and Dryads dance below
The ethereal light of the full moon waning
Reflected in the dewy grass
The howling of a nearby wolf
Carried through the forest by the Tree Spirit's voice
As the Elves and the Dryads dance below