Post by Topaz on Mar 5, 2019 23:35:49 GMT -5
DRUSILLA LEFT-HAND
The Golden Ages sang Drusilla's name
whenever warriors' deeds were loudly praised;
the nobles drained their flagons to her fame;
the farmers and their wives and children raised
resounding cheers to see her passing by.
Dark leather, iron shield Drusilla wore,
and sword as bright as Rifter-light on high,
but shield at right, and sword at left she bore.
The shield was fastened to her good right arm
with straps of leather, for she had no hand
to hold the shield, to keep herself from harm.
And everywhere she went, throughout the land,
greetings and honour met her everywhere.
Who was that strong defender, warrior fair?
Who was that strong defender, warrior fair?
The daughter of an armorer was she.
Not steel, but leather, did she learn to wear
and make and mend and measure skillfully
with calloused hands. Her parents saw their daughter
stand proudly in the armor she had made.
"Go now, Drusilla, bravely to the slaughter,
defending all who call to you for aid!
Behold this blade, passed down from hand to hand,
made magical with scrolls that gave it light;
may you in battle now protect our land
with honour and with courage shining bright!"
So spoke her father as, with glad regard,
her mother gave her their ancestral sword.
Her mother gave her their ancestral sword,
and not a turn too soon, for danger spread,
and down the land like burning lava poured,
with smoke of terror and with flame of dread.
A Fireworm! called the watchman on the tower;
A Fireworm! gasped each messenger; the word
made farmers flee and guards and soldiers cower,
Drusilla heard the fearful news, and stirred,
and grasped her sword. She did not brag or boast,
nor trumpet to the world of her intent,
but with brief words to those she loved the most,
she asked the watchmen "Where?" and then she went.
With steady heart, with strong determined stare,
she sought the Blist'ring Fireworm in his lair.
She sought the Blist'ring Fireworm in his lair,
the labyrinthine tunnels far below.
In burning heat, in grim and gasping air,
she stalked the ways, until she found her foe,
who slithered forth with gnashing fangs of fire
and fierce attack. Her shield she flung away,
its metal growing hot, but dared the dire
and deadly peril, held the worm at bay,
then struck, and struck again! She felt her skin
and hair all scorched with lava-blood that boiled,
but drove her sword undaunted deep within
the Fireworm's vitals, till at last it coiled,
thrashing, and died, to flaunt its flames no more.
So she prevailed, though burned and wounded sore.
So she prevailed, though burned and wounded sore,
and treasured home and quiet while she healed.
The Fireworm's hide for armor now she wore,
made with her own two hands, and strongly sealed
(save for the gauntlet-leather, sparse and thin).
But now an ending comes to peaceful rest,
as danger rears its head with fearful din.
From deep in labyrinth where Fireworms nest,
a monster roared, and set the lands aflame,
and sought out farms and villages for prey,
and, as she ravaged, called Drusilla's name
as for revenge she clamored night and day.
The beaches melt to glass before her path;
behold! the Fireworm's mate comes forth in wrath.
Behold! The Fireworm's mate comes forth in wrath,
her coils of living lava red and gold.
'DRUSILLA! HEAR ME! I WILL HAVE YOUR DEATH!
FOR HOSTAGE NOW YOUR VILLAGE I WILL HOLD!"
Drusilla made reply. "I am the wall
through which you still must pass to reach my kin.
Come forth and learn if I will stand or fall.
I fought your mate, and now I wear his skin."
In fiery rage the Fireworm's mate attacked,
with gnashing jaw and scales of writhing flame,
and now Drusilla gave her ground, and backed
along a cliff, and as the Fireworm came,
Drusilla struck, held fast, and with her foe
she fell -- to water, deep and far below.
She fell -- to water, deep and far below
the cliff. In mighty clouds of steam and heat,
the Fireworm perished in the undertow,
but barely she survived her foe's defeat.
She washed ashore, through fortune failed to drown.
Her right-hand gauntlet's weakness now was shown,
for though her armor held (to great renown),
her hand burned black would never be regrown.
But evermore the villagers would call
"All hail the Fireworm's Bane!" as she went by,
"Left-Hand!" they called her, honoured most of all,
rejoicing in their hero's courage high,
who dared the fire and did not fear the flame.
The Golden Ages sang Drusilla's name.
The Golden Ages sang Drusilla's name
whenever warriors' deeds were loudly praised;
the nobles drained their flagons to her fame;
the farmers and their wives and children raised
resounding cheers to see her passing by.
Dark leather, iron shield Drusilla wore,
and sword as bright as Rifter-light on high,
but shield at right, and sword at left she bore.
The shield was fastened to her good right arm
with straps of leather, for she had no hand
to hold the shield, to keep herself from harm.
And everywhere she went, throughout the land,
greetings and honour met her everywhere.
Who was that strong defender, warrior fair?
Who was that strong defender, warrior fair?
The daughter of an armorer was she.
Not steel, but leather, did she learn to wear
and make and mend and measure skillfully
with calloused hands. Her parents saw their daughter
stand proudly in the armor she had made.
"Go now, Drusilla, bravely to the slaughter,
defending all who call to you for aid!
Behold this blade, passed down from hand to hand,
made magical with scrolls that gave it light;
may you in battle now protect our land
with honour and with courage shining bright!"
So spoke her father as, with glad regard,
her mother gave her their ancestral sword.
Her mother gave her their ancestral sword,
and not a turn too soon, for danger spread,
and down the land like burning lava poured,
with smoke of terror and with flame of dread.
A Fireworm! called the watchman on the tower;
A Fireworm! gasped each messenger; the word
made farmers flee and guards and soldiers cower,
Drusilla heard the fearful news, and stirred,
and grasped her sword. She did not brag or boast,
nor trumpet to the world of her intent,
but with brief words to those she loved the most,
she asked the watchmen "Where?" and then she went.
With steady heart, with strong determined stare,
she sought the Blist'ring Fireworm in his lair.
She sought the Blist'ring Fireworm in his lair,
the labyrinthine tunnels far below.
In burning heat, in grim and gasping air,
she stalked the ways, until she found her foe,
who slithered forth with gnashing fangs of fire
and fierce attack. Her shield she flung away,
its metal growing hot, but dared the dire
and deadly peril, held the worm at bay,
then struck, and struck again! She felt her skin
and hair all scorched with lava-blood that boiled,
but drove her sword undaunted deep within
the Fireworm's vitals, till at last it coiled,
thrashing, and died, to flaunt its flames no more.
So she prevailed, though burned and wounded sore.
So she prevailed, though burned and wounded sore,
and treasured home and quiet while she healed.
The Fireworm's hide for armor now she wore,
made with her own two hands, and strongly sealed
(save for the gauntlet-leather, sparse and thin).
But now an ending comes to peaceful rest,
as danger rears its head with fearful din.
From deep in labyrinth where Fireworms nest,
a monster roared, and set the lands aflame,
and sought out farms and villages for prey,
and, as she ravaged, called Drusilla's name
as for revenge she clamored night and day.
The beaches melt to glass before her path;
behold! the Fireworm's mate comes forth in wrath.
Behold! The Fireworm's mate comes forth in wrath,
her coils of living lava red and gold.
'DRUSILLA! HEAR ME! I WILL HAVE YOUR DEATH!
FOR HOSTAGE NOW YOUR VILLAGE I WILL HOLD!"
Drusilla made reply. "I am the wall
through which you still must pass to reach my kin.
Come forth and learn if I will stand or fall.
I fought your mate, and now I wear his skin."
In fiery rage the Fireworm's mate attacked,
with gnashing jaw and scales of writhing flame,
and now Drusilla gave her ground, and backed
along a cliff, and as the Fireworm came,
Drusilla struck, held fast, and with her foe
she fell -- to water, deep and far below.
She fell -- to water, deep and far below
the cliff. In mighty clouds of steam and heat,
the Fireworm perished in the undertow,
but barely she survived her foe's defeat.
She washed ashore, through fortune failed to drown.
Her right-hand gauntlet's weakness now was shown,
for though her armor held (to great renown),
her hand burned black would never be regrown.
But evermore the villagers would call
"All hail the Fireworm's Bane!" as she went by,
"Left-Hand!" they called her, honoured most of all,
rejoicing in their hero's courage high,
who dared the fire and did not fear the flame.
The Golden Ages sang Drusilla's name.