Arilla the Fae

I once knew a bard who told but one tale

The first price, cheap – just a mug of good ale

The second price, silence – for a year and a day

The third price, blindness ‘til he’d gone on his way

So there I sat, blind and enthralled

My bargain struck with the traveling bard

As he told me his story, but first did pray

After praying, he drank, then did speak of the fae

A story retold, but still his voice shook

As he recounted first crossing that magical brook

Lost in the forest, his eyes deceived him

Or thus he thought when he saw what he couldn’t believe in

Skin pale like fresh snow, with eyes that could melt you

She didn’t walk, but glided, as she approached me –

Death was apparent, the closer she came

But death was no price to but ask for her name

Long black hair fell like water upon her

With a streak of grey flowing over her shoulders

Her comforting hand rose up to my cheek;

Despite my efforts, I couldn’t speak…

Her voice wasn’t spoken, but conveyed through the mind

You’re not in your place, maneling, and not in your time.

“I’m but a traveling bard, I was just passing through –

Seeking myself, I but follow the moon…

I’ve journeyed long, grown old and tired

But alas, I know now, it was all worthwhile…

For your difficult journey, I’ll grant you a wish…

“Fair spirit, I desire but a name and a kiss.” I’m Arilla of the Fae. Her lips touched my lips. Heaven’s embrace was Arilla’s kiss.

For some span of time, all my pains were gone

I wasn’t old, but a youth, head spinning with song…

I wasn’t weary or woed, only content

And in a way, it’s been such ever since

She embraced me still, then looked down upon me –

Be warned, only thrice can you say what you saw here…

“I must tell the world of the maiden fair!”

But thrice, then you’ll die – heed and beware!

After her kiss, the bard again wandered

And only twice did speak that ever he saw her

Until I paid each price the old man sought

His tale, and his life, unwittingly bought.

It’s been a year and a day since I took that vow

The bard, but bones beneath the ground…

I can’t say how he died, for I couldn’t yet see

But since I buried the bard, I’ve been traveling…

A traveling bard, just passing through –

Seeking myself, I but follow the moon… I grow old and tired with each passing day… Ever in search of Arilla the Fae.

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