|The Tale of King Jarred
Author: Sanctuaria PM
A short epic poem-type thing, almost like a fairytale. First poem ever written.Rated: Fiction K - English - Adventure/Humor - Words: 440 - Published: 02-05-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3098602
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The Tale of King Jarred
There once was a great man named Jarred,
Born to King Kragg he was,
Set to survive the perils ahead,
Mighty but kind-hearted just 'cause.
Great foes he faced,
Beat them, none could,
Always to them the deaths could be traced.
Run away, his father counseled, he should.
Jarred was a hero.
He did not back down,
Though his kill count was zero.
Then he came to a town.
Elm Outpost, it was called,
They showed him a fortress of great size,
With dark stone it was thickly walled,
To go in alone would be unwise.
Jarred was not a cautious man.
Eager to impress his future wife,
Straight into the castle he ran,
Armed with only his trusty knife.
No creature attacked him,
Not even a rat,
'Til a blade nearly severed his limb.
There on a throne the cunning beast sat.
"Welcome," it said, hissing with glee,
"We have awaited your coming.
It was much anticipated, you see?"
To terror Jarred was not succumbing.
He attacked with his knife.
But it was dagger against sword.
Pitifully outmatched was he in the strife,
But he managed to sever the creature's spinal cord.
A horrific monster, it was,
Its humanoid form deceiving,
Sound awful? Of course it does!
Panic it caused in every one believing.
But Jarred beat him,
Not until they were all dead did he lay on his cot.
His passion was more than just a whim,
Letters home, however, he did jot.
Díena was his fair wife,
Far did she outshine her sisters.
For they were bright as day and full of life,
But compared to her they looked like ugly blisters.
Engaged to him since age one,
Her life was decided soon after birth:
She had to marry the third son,
Of the king of Mueit to prove her worth.
Stopped a fierce war, their engagement did.
Aynr and Mueit to lay down arms once and for all,
That did not change when they had their first kid.
He too answered the hero's call.
Many years later,
They were all grown up,
Thankfully none of them turned traitor.
And on each Sunday they did sup.
Now the father, our Jarred,
The one and only,
Was finally sick on his deathbed.
Petris the son returned, fearing Jarred would be lonely.
And so, with his family all around,
King Jarred died a peaceful end,
The palace the people did surround,
Many flowers they did send.
Jarred the noble king,
Was remembered as hero of the land,
Though for his life he could not sing.
Maybe that was why he hired a good band.