The Song of Dalsarion: Three

Posted on 03/11/2011 by


As the deer Sun, starting her daily discipline
denied for herself that repast at the shores of night.
She in her searching,
rose. There-in doing so, raising us all.
Begun those muttered and lilting lines
that the birds would continue throughout that day.

As always, and a little behind the tune,
Dalsarion awoke.


from a nest of snarled limbs,
I got up, dressed quickly and left the room.
And did not wake the boy who lay there still.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs
was to begin a day,
in which I was to find
a friend
and purpose
that would come to take all my life and many adventures
to repay.

But first and unfortunately:
I found my songs of that night past
would not pay this morning’s meal.
It was a set back. Though
I had only been travelling for a number of weeks,
and was young for it,
I had as yet managed
to find lodgings and audiences—for my songs, and for
and in spite, of myself.
Though I made sure to reserve all applause for myself.
Bed guaranteed for my introducing throat–or perhaps
for the friendly songs,
in spite of bothersome chaperone.

Yet I should have known a life running from routine
could be unfaithful
to this hungry cause, and particularly early meal.

Now since this early morning though, and my mistake
—up watching the sleep bleed from baker’s eyes–
almost cost my destiny most dearly,
I would often say, instead,
‘That a man need never rise early
till a man need never rise at all.’ –I know, I know
I’ve always felt that there was a flaw, somehow,
to logic in that statement.
But it is always good defence against farming-folk.

Nevertheless I had planned to be leaving early
that day, since the night before ended so happily,
and there is something to be said for luck.
But not of her patience.

By certain fortunes then, though gathered to go and miss the rush,
I felt to be drawn to head again
back up that inn-keep’s stairs,
to push just ajar my bedroom’s door, and watch my favourite motions performed,
a young lover just awaken.

I was hungry, and… not thinking well.
So it was a happy thing then, when another man, patron also
of this inn
caught my hanging
at the stairs. Almost as I had taken my steps.

So as my early nature almost had me miss him,
it was my indecision served as saviour.

He was happy to see me! He said
You almost missed me. I told him.
Glad that he had not, I was promptly asked to eat with him.
Breakfast. The day surely was still early?
‘Yes.’ I said, we both looked at the spotless tables in the lounge,
‘It is by all evidence.’ And I took my chance
setting down there with him.

Am I an easy catch when it comes to food?

Two heavy breads twisted with grain, and an onion gravy came our way.

There was silence between us.
I had not truly thought as to why
he had asked me. Many would say I was young…

But I was still hungry.

As we did not talk to each other, neither did we look.
We were two quiet men.
As the meal had begun so,
so had it ended too. The man,
as I knew him so far,
then eased himself back—in a curious-faced contentment
and finally met my eyes.

While our meal had wound on I had grown,
not suspicious, and never uneasy.
I had not wondered, and
nor had I questioned, or
had I found fiddler’s fingers.
I had however, become rather amused.
Certainly it is my best known attribute–I’ve ever been told,
that I am unwilling to quiet. I talk.
And I tell stories.
I have been asked often, from where do they come,
people seem so surprised, delighted.
Instead I’ve have grown to answer—it is just not enough for one
to be called ‘cruel’ of course~
that I could not imagine… That one tale I could not say.
Never having tales to tell.

So I make chatter and noise. Constantly.
This man, who is to be a player in this story,
he makes his presence known. So. Too.

And sitting across from him I somehow sensed this.
So as one did not start it, the other followed cue.
Neither would ascent to accent,
nor speak of anything. False or true.
And it became a matter of a humorous honour,
that neither one of us would start,
without first-disastrous utterance of the other.

Now. He gave all intention, that he was to speak.
And I craved this of that man. –My competitive streak.

‘So tell me,’ he pinched his lips with kerchief.’
what did Sir Dalis do?..
Or if you will, did that daring Goblin standing-spinning-wild his tale, before all others—I note,
get his much deserved applause, for his tale of Dalis?”

‘Well,’ said I.

‘Or do you want to keep us hanging?
Sleeping Goblins on your one-hand
and your hero Dalis, clever-trick of voice
—coming as it was from another mouth
and, sharper-even-than-I—to give a tale of so treacherous-sly,
shy so Goblin at the other?
But. One is not enough,
and the other is no end at all…’

So I laughed. It was the best answer I had.
‘Truthfully. I do not know how it could end.
I rather talked myself into a corner,
speaking as I did of muteness.’

‘Brave. Brave.
To go shocking into the twist of a tale, and know not
what resolution there is, if any
–if you are to perform it.

Yet you weren’t the hero there, were you? Is that your story?
Just the little Goblin. Shy and standing with a tale.
Glimmer-glimmer, and a smirk caught in your eye?’

‘I can’t claim that, no. I’m only the story-teller.’

‘Well yes… Well would there be a hero to inspire it?
Not Sir Dalis himself, but a proto—and what did you name yourself?’
He must have known, if he’d been there last night.
‘You can’t claim to be a small Goblin,
can you claim to make of it a hero instead?
‘No don’t answer! You get to play your games.
You must still have some fun with your audience.’

Well, maybe.

And then, with such a downward cast of his voice–
‘The other children never let you be a hero,
nor even slyly Goblin then?
They never called you clever-little-creature?

Then who would be the hero if not the figment of your making?
—and you with that sword you dress in so uneasily. Also.’

Kalsarung. It is mine.’

‘Yes~ and it is a legendary sword too.’

My blush.

‘Don’t tell me..!
You’re not just ‘play-acting’ at this; what say you?’
At this, he laughed and let me gently down.
‘And what of this ‘Banal Banshee’?
You lost them there last night, I think?’

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Posted in: Dalsarion, Paul