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Array
(
[sid] => 131621
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Morgun the Troll
[time] => 2007-02-10 22:00:57
[hometext] => In the last days of magic, a tale most tragic, lain rest is the soul, of Morgun the Troll
[bodytext] => Morgun the Troll Morgun’s End Bitter end came to the wars of elves, elves an’ trolls an’ men Morgun troll’s heart filled wi’ bile, ‘they’ had won agin’ Nothin’ more was left for him but to homeward suffer So Morgun turn’t his track to home, an’ wish’t he had some supper On the fringe of battlefield the little bundle lay “A wage of war, thought Morgun, I’ll have it if I may.” Inside he find a baby girl, the offspring of an elf “Now me supper plans are made,” an’ he took ‘er for hisself In kippy sack ‘pon his back, did the morsel ride His thought now turn’t to turnips, “boil’t ‘er baked ‘er fried?” A lovely stew or skillet fry, t’was all so hard to choose Such tender meat were meant to eat wi’ lots ‘o tasty juice Now cros’t the crags and down the dale Morgun made his way Wi’ last o’ light a’fore the night his door he’d make today A candle lit, no time to sit, he quickly fueled a fire An’ peel the turnips in the pot whils’t flicker flames come higher Now from the sack the troll unpack the lovely elvin child As blanket slip ‘pon her lip Morgun see her smile A rumble in his belly send a message to his gums But a warmin’ start in his heart, “Now where did that come from”? So turnips plain once again was the trolls repast Then he scoop some turnip soup to break the babies fast Morgun make the babe a cot from broken oaken chest An’ wrap ‘er warm away from harm a’fore he lay to rest What break the still on mornin’ chill.? Did Morgun hear a w’imper? “Wot so distress, me lit’l mess, a’fore you me life were simp’ler.” But that little spot his heart had got, had grown all through the night Four hunnerd years he’d been alone, a babe would set things right “A name, says he, methinks for thee, might need be prim an’ pretty So scratchin’ his noggin to clear the foggin’ the troll wax wise an’ witty When from fir limb, song came to him from festive feathered bird “Chee-la, chee-la, chee-la-tooooo” was what old Morgun heard Then Chee-la-too shall she be called, a name both light an’ cheery An’ ‘pon his knee she bounce wi’ glee, his tiny elfish fairie Ever’ year she grow more dear, what love the two did seed No earthly treasure meet half the measure ‘o fillin’ the others need He keep ‘er ‘an he raise ‘er up like she were his very own For sixteen years he tend the lass, in sixteen years she’d grown An’ grew her beauty twice’t as much it please his agin’ eye As Morgun’s pride grew inside, he fear the time draw nigh A time when Chee-la-too would go, an’ leave his house alone It were proper an’ he’d not stop ‘er, she’d need a home of ‘er own But word of the fairie had reached an airy, abode of evil majik Wizard Gorto want ‘er he send to haunt ‘er a minion vile an’ tragic The evil wizard send down a lizard an awesome burning beast To Morgun’s home to kill the gnome and on his bones to feast “Bring back the elf, for me, mineself,” he charged the dower dragon “I’ve a potion t’will change her notion, here in this crystal flaggon.” On wily wing come the thing, fearsomely, flappin’ an’ flyin’ With putrid breath that smell of death, death an’ dead an’ dyin’ His dirk an’ axe the troll take up an’ gamely gain the fray Chee-la-too break out her bow but Morgun stand in her way He hack an’ chop an’ talons lop but on the dragon pres’t It bite the hand and axe were banned, the troll were finished it guessed But Morgun lunged, last might did plunge the blade of his faithfull dagger Into the chest where evil rest and the dragon begun to stagger An’ now her arrow cut the marrow and bleed the scaly villian It fell at last it’s day now past of pillage, havoc an’ killin’ To his side a’fore he died an’ father behold his daughter With her kiss she promise this, “Gorto will I slaughter.” The lass avow if gods allow to hunt the wizard down From lusty lore passed down before she know where he be found All through his keep the fairy creep and find her chosen quary 'Pon his throne and unbeknown a reason to be wary a’fore he knew, she bend her yew and string her weapon taught As Gorto turn he see the burn of deed that he had wrought Chee-la-too need ‘er best bolt o’ cedar, seasoned straight an’ true It’s edge she kiss then TWANG an’ HISSSSS through his black heart it flew Wi’ promise kept the lassie wept her spirit stained an’ broken She think agin’ of Morgun’s land, land yet in his blood a soakin’ She return once more to darkened door, door of Morgun the Troll Bowed she mourn his body torn but rejoice in his gloried soul. The End [comments] => 3 [counter] => 223 [topic] => 40 [informant] => feralpen [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => fantasy )
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