The Tale of Erev and Fen Once upon the snow capped peaks, Of the Worldspine Mountains cold, Twas born a tale of unlikely love, Passed down from those ages of old, Tis not a story of war or want, Nor a ballad of mortal men, But of an old raven named Erev, And the little white wolf cub Fen, Grandfather Winter had stormed with ire, Having quarreled with Mother Wind, Snows driven fast and cold hardened, Appeared stubborn, unlikely to end, The skies were sullen and clouded, For days no sun and no moon, Just the grey pallid light of the winter, And the curtains of Nights solemn loom, Thus here we are brought to the forests, Where huddled amidst the pines, Perched the lone raven Erev, As hed done time after time, His family long lost in passing, Now forlorn and aging alone, No more nests for his weary black wings, And no lands for him to call home, Though the years had taken their toll, Good Wisdom had strengthened his frame, His eyes were still keen as a hawks, Even the old trees knew his name, This day was particularly barren, For no animals did stir without, Yet Erev had sensed something special, Thus the wilderness he desired to scout, He had flown for many a mile, Pondering the thing that was calling, Was it the winds that were howling, Or just Skys icy tears gently falling, Then again his ears did hear, That strange and pitiful cry, So at once his old wings were spread, And into the cold he did fly, Above sleeping pines of winter, His feathers strong carried aloft, He then peered across the prairie, Blanketed with snow pure and soft, Keenly he did see gently huddled, Beneath a great oak old and bent, Half frozen and barely still breathing, The white wolf cub we know as Fen, Had his heart been hardened with age, Erev surely would not have been moved, But having once known the love of a child, To abandon the cub would not do, So he flew to the oak known as Treoch, Landed swift upon the old boughs, Peered down at the half frozen wolf, And again heard his pitiful howl, The old raven then turned to the oak, And respectfully asked Him in kind, For some leaves and small broken branches. And anything else he might find, Treoch was moved by the raven, Then shuddered His approval in turn, For years He had come to know Erev, And the trees old love had he earned, So Erev quickly set to his task, Flying with skill and great speed, Began to gather all of the things, That he knew he would need, He collected leaves for a blanket, One by one placing with care, And then sticks for a small woodland shelter, Then bark with his beak he did tear, So as the daylight faded with time, Erev worked with a furious pace, As if he knew he was running, Alongside Death in a race, When the last pale glow of the sun, Had faded from the cold winter sky, The raven then perched once again, Peering down with curious eyes, Below him there lay a shelter, Built of skill and of love, To guard the poor frozen creature, Fen, the little white cub, Yet the raven in all of his wisdom, Knew his task was not done, So he guarded throughout the night, And waited for the newborn sun, When the light of day was risen, He again took to his wings, Flew fast to the nearby valley, And its still unfrozen streams, There he waited with patience, The old grizzly he was sure not to miss, And he knew of his hunger, For the rainbows swift swimming fish, As sure as the sun and moon rise, Out came the lumbering bear, Erev waited with baited eye, For a piece of the fish he could tear, The old griz pawed at the brook, As effortless as he breathed, And many a fish he did catch, His belly as full as he pleased, Then at midday he lumbered away, Softly into the wood, So Erev then flew and gathered some fish, Carrying as much as he could, Back to the oak he then sped with haste, Walked timidly to the small pup, And with his old beak he fed him the fish, Together they then did sup, Thus that day the raven and cub, Then became best of friends, Each once alone, journeyed through life, Now knowing family again, Erev and Fen spent many a year, Learning the heart of the other, They watched all the Seasons parading by, The four children of The Great Mother, They learned how to hunt and how to survive, Leaning on each others skill, And when they were bored, theyd play in the prairies, Becoming closer still, This way they did live and love one another, Forgetting the passing of time, But as every soul knows lifes not forever, The raven became older in mind, His once youthful vigor and keenly tuned eyes, Lost their luster and shine, And under the oak where they first fell in love, They both knew it was time, Fen bowed his head and then leaned in close, While Erev lay on the ground, And in that moment neither trees nor the wind, Made not a single sound, The old raven took one last look, Upon Fens sparkling gaze, He then closed his eyes and faded away, As dew in the warm morning rays, The wolf then lay beneath the old oak, Staring at his old friend, And as hed once done as a half frozen pup, Started howling again, Treoch old and withered with age, Gently began swaying with ease, Then rained down upon the old bird, A beautiful blanket of leaves, Fen laid still throughout the night, As once Erev had done, And watched over his friend with love and with care, Until came the newborn sun, Then he rose and wandered away, Broken hearted for all those to see, And journeyed far into the mountains, To search for some quiet and peace, His path lead him through night and day, Deep in the world of dream, Taking his shelter where Mother allowed, To a small cave by a clear stream, There he took refuge for many a year, His own age taking its hold, Until one strange day he heard a noise, Something familiar and old, It caught his ear as he laid all alone, And he rose to see this new sound, Climbed out of his cave and lo and behold, Lying there upon the ground, A small baby raven fallen before, No nest to hold him on high, Fen then smiled deep in his heart, Never once questioning why, Gently he took the baby bird, Softly in his old maw, Carried him then into the cave, Hearing his pitiful caw, Spent many a day nursing him there, Watching over as a good father, He sheltered and fed him all of the things, That his old body could gather, Once again Fen came to know, The love of a family and a friend, Until his own days came to a close, And he met his own timely end, The little torn raven now grown big and strong, Then gathered flowers and made, A beautiful wreath with gold and with string, To leave at the mouth of the cave, Now here he sits telling the tale, To his own black feathered children, Of the wondrous love of the raven Erev, And the white wolf we know as Fen. - DNH 06/2014
Posted on: Mon, 09 Jun 2014 01:42:04 +0000