The Guardian's Forest

From Encyclopedia Draconica
Jump to: navigation, search

Written by Tanager Skydancing as told by Tessira Soderstrom

Into the forest a warrior rode.
Never a tremor the long branches showed.
Never a rustle of movement betrayed.
She who was guardian of the dark glade.

<continues in a soft whisper, darting nervous glances around her>
Unseen, unnoticed, she paced at his side.
Ghostlike and graceful, through moonlight she'd glide.
Warning each creature to hasten from doom.
Leaving his path wrapped in silence and gloom.

As the dawn beckoned, her powers declined.
She slipped towards green shadow, but still stalked behind.
His steed caught her scent when she ventured too near.
He calmed it, and whispered, 'No fear, love, no fear.'

Softly, she called to his steed in tongues wild,
'What brings you henceward, my brindled heart-child?'
But the warrior answered, to her great alarm,
'Guardian, know thee, we mean here no harm.'

<calls out in a loud voice to the unknown in the surrounding forest>
We only wish passage-- no flame will be shown,'
He called in a tongue he should never have known
No leaf will be injured, that too is my vow.
Take it, or come hence to cut me down now.'

No answer came from the one who watched him.
Through green-veiled branches and sun shafting dim.
Onward he rode, through a silence like death.
Silent, she watched every step, every breath.

Nightfall: he dismounted, watered his horse.
Sat down to think and determine his course.
No fire burned, and no shelter he'd built.
But his hand never strayed towards his weapon's carved hilt.

<rushes on through the phrase, a slight scowl on her face>
Never had one such as this sought her glade.
Always men came here to harvest and raid.
Ever they died for the rape of her land.
Ever they died at her silent command.

Ever they ventured to kill and despoil.
Always their corpses enriched the dark soil.
<stops and ponders a moment, changing her angry rapid pace for one filled with quiet wariness>
But honor's white flame burned within the calm knight.
Wondering, she watched him until the first light.

Slumber-wrapped, still he perceived she drew near.
Graceful and lovely, not yet free of fear.
When he awoke in the dawn-misted air.
One cloven hoofprint revealed she'd been there.

Nights and days passed, and his vow remained strong.
Slowly, squirrels crept back, and birds spoke in song.
Each night, she wrapped him in magic-wrought dream.
Each day, she fled with the sun's first shy gleam.

Then came the dawn of the long journey's end
Out of the forest, this proud knight she'd send.
She'd ne'er spared another-- but this one would go.
Her heart filled with grief, and her steps became slow.

Just before leaving her forest domain.
He rose in his saddle-- he turned back again.
I thank thee-- I'll never return to this place.
Guardian, I pray-- may I once glimpse your face?

<pauses, as if waiting for the Guardian's form to appear, a far away wonder creeping into her voice> Shy as a doe, she stepped into the light.
Throat arched, long tail flagged, as graceful as flight.
His nervous steed sidestepped, too anxious to stand.
He dismounted and knelt, and he stretched out his hand.

Her mane was a river of moonlight-swept snow.
Her cloven hooves shared in her spiralled horn's glow.
Her eyes were green sapphires, entrancing but chill.
And, daring, she crept closer still, closer still...
<cautiously steps closer, waiting for the right moment...>

The stroke that brought death came as perfect surprise.
She fell with betrayal alight in her eyes.
Far granite cliffs echoed back her shrill scream. Scarlet drowned two hundred years like a dream.

<recoils and crumples to the ground, weeping her sorrow for the death. Her broken voice continues...> The knight wept his grief as the unicorn died.
His weapon's hilt jutted from her snow-white side.
His hands bore her blood as a dark crimson stain.
But the forest was safe now, it's guardian slain.

How many died to her spiralling horn?
Ranks of new widows and children forlorn--
Still grief choked through him, and waves of despair.
He mounted his steed, but he left his blade there.

He rode towards the mountains, and cast off his name.
Never the prize for his kill did he claim.
Nevermore did he speak words of the wild.
For she'd trusted him fully-- the gaze of a child.<br.

<sighs and slowly stands up, regaining her composure>
I honor his act, and I honor his pain.
And I honor the guardian fallen and slain.
The world's worst grief comes not from evil's cold deed.
But from two who seek good, but can neither concede.