Where, Where, O Dark?

An inconsequential tavern in the land of Turingard...

“What say you dwarves, a song, a story for a mug of ale and a bowl of dwarven stew?”

A few drowsy dwarven men look up from their own brews and glance toward the door.

‘Eh? What’s that? A beggar, a minstrel, a bard all in fineries even?”

“Sir Trossit, at your service good sirs.” He says with an indulgent bow.

A raised eyebrow from behind the bar with a laughing tease, “Good sirs? Don’t know me boys too well then, do ye? Ha! Their not worth the breath of a Sir, ha!”

“Shut yer yap Ol’ Kellen. A sir then, is it? A knight, not a bard then? From the mouths of knights come only morals and lessons and such. Ya’ can keep them, sir.”

“No, no, gentlemen. I was made a sir in another land, perhaps one you’ve never heard of. No knight am I men. Not half so gallant as twice so full of it and a fair bit famished to boot, but that is another story unless you’d care to hear. Perhaps a moving moment to complement your beer? Or something of a tale you’re already rather fond of? A morsel for an ear bending, no danger there, yes?”

An olden dwarf turns about from a far corner and says, “I’ll have ye’ on, fair Trossit man. I can tell already you’ve a voice worthy of at least a pot o’ stew. How ‘bout the lay of the traitor? Don’t right remember the proper name, but the day those devilish dark elves winced a bit, betrayed by their own shadowman. Know it, do ya’?”

“Ah, a brilliant tale with a melody strong, worthy of this dwarven hall. Yes, I know it well and a choice selection if I do say. Shall we begin then?”

Several dwarves flick wrists at Ol’ Kellen for tankards all around as the baritone voice of Sir Trossit starts at a hum. Most of the bar turns at least halfway ‘round on their stools and benches, grateful for some new distraction.

“Hmmmmm, hm, hm, hmmm. A minor tune for a major story of darkness and betrayal. Listen to my tale and know something of another place and time yet still lives all around us.”

Deep, down dark, below the earth
Where fires flow and devils birth
It’s said they came from forges old
By hand of wicked gods
Skin rubbed black with miner’s coal
And hair as white as frozen cold.

Eyes that blind in sun’s warm light
Made to live in shadowed night
Gifted warrens of ancient make
Endless corridors of stone
Their cities rose with unseen hands
No aid except enslaven drake.

Some say of their twisted ways
Nature cries or evil plays
No friends, no allies all are foe
Save one, save one who left the flock
The day when evil’s smiles frowned
For long planned ills brought low.

Grew and grew their power and lust
Craving more than cavern dust
With magics learnt, dark and fell
To steal lands of burning light
As below, above on Aethe
endless night for all who dwell.

Councils met deliberating
Sorceries to end cruel waiting
Blind no more the world is ours
All said yay save one, save one
I’ve walked among them, man and dwarf,
Brethren elf you would devour.

Pleading sense against such folly
You’d waste our powers drunk and jolly
On children weak with eyes of light
While future queens lay starving
Homeward, homeward blinded fools
Forget these talks of endless night.

Warped your words from sun’s enchantment
We’ll feed our queens on spoils granted
Away, away misled spy
May darkness forgive your tongue
Stripped of rank and wealth and home
One wandered torn ‘tween dark and light.

Years were passed, spells were gathered
While unknown above nothing mattered
And still he knew their every move
Stripped of all save power
He stole into the sacred chamber
Now was the time to prove.

Though known not, this benefactor
Screams of rage reacted
Rising up from unseen depths
Screams turned to soothing balm
For every man, woman, and child
Who sees sun rise and go to rest.

Now he wanders, traitors plight
Curse of sun, hand of night
Where, oh where dark-born soul
Forgotten savior, shadows danced
Holding sun in ashen hands
Ages pass with thanks untold.

“Hear, hear, a fine rendition, worth more than a stew or an ale or two.”

Scattered applause and cheers crept up in the dim lit bar of dwarven workmen.

“A drink all around for a song well sung. Kellen, me tab be damned.”

“Thank you, thank you. Reward enough is the gratitude of my bearded brethren.”

“Cheers to Trossit and cheers to the sun. We’ll wake tomorrow to work another day and drink another night.”

“Drow be damned, but one, but one. Hear, hear.”


-- by Jon