Sir Robert seethes in silence while he strides
beneath the waters deep of Durrinelm,
all unaware that men contest his realm,
and Fay find evil out where'er it hides.
A comfortable tunnel meant for one -
a dozen guards and sorcerers six are cramped
around the delven entrance, slightly ramped
towards the isle where rests the silent swan.
"Chiron! Make fire!" quoth Robert, deeply peeved.
"Torches upon the walls are not for fun,
else I would bring in here the sleepy sun!
Make me a fire, or greatly I'll be grieved!"
The Alchemist finds fire by means unseen,
and shadows walk the walls of grey and green.

"Jalen, the keys!" Sir Robert starts to chafe.
"For, at the inner end, a second gate
stands in defence against whatever fate
ever should send, and thus the tunnel's safe."
He struggles through their ranks, his torch aflame,
and leads all those who march beneath his rule
where only foster daughters with their Fool
have walked with him before, to watch his game.
He whispers by the gate:

Sir Robert:
"Now men; hear well -
if any man retreat against the Fay,
I'll have him hung and burned by end of day.
To keep the fairy all my land I'd sell,
for she is key to all my plans of pow'r.
Go forth! My dreams must all survive this hour!"


The well-oiled lock turns easily, but slow.
The knight goes forth a step; but 'fore his face
fierce guardians are, who force him back a pace.
A horse whose hooves rain many a heavy blow,
and swans grown great from waiting in the light
of bright Aurorielle, the mighty Fay.
The Forest Queen holds Meirion in his way;
but Robert cannot see the lovely sight.
He followed on her trail at break of dawn,
for fear she brought Aurorielle release.
Instead, she brings swift swans like giant geese
to guard the isle a while for lovers lorn.
And Jalen laughs inside, to think his lord
by words his own should dangle from a cord.

Sir Robert:
"Vergilius! Advise me! Tell me well,
what say the stars about our present case?"

Vergilius the Astrologer:
"Ah, Sire, the planets wander from their place!"

Sir Robert:
"Druid! What say you now, of magic fell?"

Arddhu the Druid:
"I was awoken rude, in middle-trance,
and cannot say for sure; above, the flood
that swiftly runneth speaks to me of blood."

Sir Robert:
"Bah! I should ne'er have slain the hag. Romance -
wild fairy-story tellers all, of course."

Aneurin the Animist:
"Yet rocks and rivers rail against the Fay,
who guard their so-called God 'gainst light of day."

Sir Robert:
"Lunatic! See the swans, and hear the horse!
Who, of you all, can sell me aught but lies?
Bring to me aid, or else each sorcerer dies!"


A moment Robert doubts; a moment fears.
Mad patterns quickly flit across his face,
as if in him, old mem'ries run a race;
he finally decides. His visage clears.

Sir Robert:
"Great Blaise, where are you now, who long I sought?
Powerful the magic passion that you brought
to ordering by force the ways of men,
making me seek you ever and again -
hear me now, please, if worthy of you be
Robert, who came to seek you 'cross the sea."


A rumbling thunder grumbles through the earth.
"Now what is this?" asks Jalen, frowning deep.
"Yes, ask me then!" shouts Robert. "Yet no sleep
ever was made by mages. Know your worth!"
But as his great drawn sword from scabbard sang,
on one and all, a howling werewolf sprang.