I stood in street in Trolls Bane the other day talking to friends when I was witness to a very sad moment. I tell no names and I mean to place no blame. A man that I had only just met but had heard tell of was struck down. A mighty man. A man that would make lesser hearts tremble with a look. He was cut down at the knees by a whisp of a lass. Later that day I was sitting by the river and I remembered a song that me mam used to sing when she was feelin sad.
When I was in my prime, I flourished like a vine.
There came along a false young maid and stole the heart of mine.
She stole the heart of mine.
The gardener standing by,three offers he made to me.
The pink the violet and red rose. which I refused all three.
Which I refused all three.
The pink is no flower at all, for it fades away so soon.
The violet is too pale a hue, I think I'll wait a few moons.
I think I'll wait a few moons.
Soon the red rose blooms. And if the Gods will grant me grace.
I'll weep a bowl of crystal tears to wash her deceitful face.
To wash her deceitful face.
Young man puts away his lute and walks slowly back into Bane.
A warriors heart.
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