She held his hands, she held his head, “Sir, please don’t go, please stay with me” He kissed her hands, her head and said “Within a year I’m back, you’ll see.” A teardrop slowly left her eye And found its way across her cheek More teardrops fell when she said “I Will follow when it’s Death you seek.” “I seek Queprur? You know, my love That duty binds me to this war. But please ask Armeros above That you will see me from afar When I return from battles won With bags of gold, my armour sold To live with you and you will run To greet me! Now, release your hold.” He gently took her hands and kissed Her fingers and her lips. One tear Did leave his eye: he too would miss His newly wed, his love, his dear. Thus as they held their heads so near And felt their hearts beating as one Upon her cheek he left his tear A final kiss; then he was gone. So all that she had left of him As he rode o’er the path down south And went over the mountain’s rim Was this small tear that passed her mouth And with the other tears streamed from Her neck towards her bosom where From cold or desperation some Did freeze upon those two flanks fair. And long after she’d lost the sight Of him did she remain up there Till cold and darkness forced her flight While she bade Armeros to care For him “Whose braveness, strength and wit Would surely save his skin,” she said “But gods might disagree.” and lit A candle to amend for that. And as she looked into the flame The little warmth reached to her breast To melt the fear away. His name She spoke when she lay down to rest. So each night when she went to sleep She lit a little candle so That he might live in Arm’ros keep And fell asleep by candle’s glow Then one night she woke up and saw That only starlight filled the room The flame was gone. A sudden flaw Of wind had heralded her doom. The darkness and the cold now clawed Together at her heart and she Who put her fate in flames was gnawed By cold and dark anxiety And as the light of morning came Her heart was icy-cold. No fear Was left, nor did she speak his name, Nor did she shed a single tear. She only followed the same road That he had taken when he went Away. The noise ahead forebode The truth that nightly wind had sent. She never reached the market square Where widows new and old alike Were weaping for their fate unfair She only gazed down from a pike And saw the cart with bodies filled She recognized the armour which She would not sell. His blood was spilled, Queprur had hungered for his lich. Within a year he had returned But she would not run down to him Instead she turned, ran back and burned Their house and threw herself therein. Or maybe she went to the top Of the White Lady mountain where Beneath its flanks her life did stop And did she find her lover there. And every spring the mountain cries Fresh tears from frozen waterfalls Just like a flame, before it lies And is put out by sudden flaws. And if you venture past the tears Of hope and up the mountain side You might feel that the Lady nears Or see her if she does not hide…
Posted on: Sun, 22 Sep 2013 03:24:58 +0000