The elf maid shook her long dark hair
And girded on her sword
T’was time to ride, and fight and die,
To slay the tyrant lord.
Faelyn knew not if she would live
To see another morn,
But knew her path and destiny
Was set ere she was born.
Make haste! Make haste! The heralds cry
The army shouts as one
With clarion calls the brass erupts
And thus the day began.
Grey clouds roll back, from burning sun,
Blood-red the shining dawn
Faelyn the Fair prepared to ride
Her thirsty blade full-drawn.
Through rocky pass and wind-blown grass
Through desert, fen and wood,
The gallant elf-maid led her men
And many trials withstood.
‘Til finally at day’s late close
She faced the darkling lord
And led the charge atop her mare
Through raging river ford.
The battle claimed a thousand lives
The dark lord wanted one
And yet, Faelyn the Fair survived
Until the day was done.
Alone she faced him, as the night
Drew cold and close around,
They strove and fought with sword and might
As night crept o’er the ground.
Her strength all gone, her body weak
She raised a trembling hand
And cast the spell that broke his hold
And freed the ‘prisoned land.
Fair maid, she stood against the dark
And triumphed in the field,
For she, unlike all other elves
Refused at last, to yield.
But, what of Faelyn? Strong of heart
She journeyed from that land
And left the elves to peace and wisdom,
As her last command.
This is part of the world building that I planned to explore the character of Faelyn more (please take a look at ‘Faelyn and Halueth’, if you are interested). I love ballad metre, it’s great discipline for poetry writing!