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Enedentian Epic: Canto VII

Beyond the circle of the sky
above the crown of mountain high,
beyond the myriad, sailing lights
in Felabrine's celestial height,
a distant arc, there glowing faint            5
binds Moriver in its restraint.
It's name is sung in many songs
and hymns are raised that it may long
endure the blight upon its side
where dark, consumming creatures hide        10
on Moriver's bejewelled rim.
There in the east, there, fell and grim
where evil first took root upon,
remains the touch of Ubelon.

And to this day, this evil seeps        15
into the east, from where it sleeps,
and on the ring, the shadows eat
without respite, without retreat.
And so it runs, this evil strain
from eastern shore to western plain.            20
Where fate looks on, and will is weak,
the seeking shadows tempting speak
their will, defeating willing heart
with blackened thought and foul art.
The treachery of Ubelon                25
on this sad world is wrought upon,
and so disturbs the maiden's song
with treacherous thoughts and deeds of wrong.

On Enedentia's western coast
abiding are the fairy host            30
in secret caverns on the rock,
the last retreat of fairy folk.
Esteletine, the faithful lord
stands at the gates, with shield and sword,
quiet amongst the crashing waves        35
that greet the gates of fairy caves
he listens to their sweet refrain:
The shrine of the enduring strain
of music tells his ready heart:
"Go thither, to the eastern parts,            40
where flows the gentle crystal streams.
Now comes that day foretold in dreams."

The faithful steward listens long
to the primeval maiden's song,
and gathering a numerous host            45
departs the Enedentian coast.
Fair was the march upon the plain,
as winds, in their forlorn refrain
told tales of him who marches near,
the king of woe, the lord of fear.            50
They spoke of worms and mighty drakes
that make the ancient mountains quake,
beneath their flags, their scarlet brands
no will contends, no might can stand.
Yet on marches, Esteletine,            55
beneath the sign of Felabrine.

The force of Cancalon the great
that issued from his distant gates
snaked through the long defeated dells
and rose like denizens of Hell.            60
Upon the hills where once rose high
white minarets beneath the sky,
and greystone battlements stood tall
now lay in ruin, Hancel's hall.
They rode up on Amenophel            65
where Hancel's valiant steward fell,
defending with his fateful sword
the cavern of that cursed hoard.
And through that desolate terrain
that same snake slithers o'er the plain.        70

Though deep the shade of evil falls
like vast, cascading ghastly walls
there can be seen a silver line;
the ranks of Lord Esteletine.
The fairies marched upon the field            75
all baring swords and blazoned shields
and banners flying with the flow'r
that stood for ancient fairy pow'r.
Their helms were plumed, their capes were white
and in their eyes there burned that light            80
which from their mighty Master beams.
In it, their blades and lances gleam.
Above blazed fair An Cirion
before the host of Cancalon.

The ancient power of the fay        85
was manifest that very day.
Effulgent shone the mighty throng
with arrows raised and lances long.
The brilliance of their presence there
turned winds of dust to pleasant air.        90
The fields now bloomed with bud and grass
from rocky shore to mountain pass,
and where that crystal river flowed
the fairy foot falls lent a glow
so now the plain is ever named        95
Anorien, the site most famed
and dwelling of the fairy-kin,
the mighty folk of Camelin.

Deep in the thick of night they shine;
Esteletine's commanding line.            100
With lances keen behind their shields
they stand their ground to hold their field.
Above them flies the brilliant brand
the fairest flag in all the land
and to their fore, where waters foam            105
beneath the sky's entombing dome
Esteletine sits on his steed;
his faithful beast in time of need.
But now, he lifts his mighty hand
and signals to the glorious band.        110
A bridge across that stream is lain
and fay cross to the eastern plain.

The crossing of the fay that day
is often sung in hymn and lay.
It was foretold in prophecy            115
that in that time of misery
when Cancalon was new afoot
above the sullied mountain roots
and scattering upon the hills
his army of unnumbered ills,        120
when in the blackness of the sky
a starry sickle shone on high
the fairest folk across the sea
shall heed the wind's relentless plea.
Then they shall march across the plain        125
and there, shall end his evil reign.

The dreadful hoard of Cancalon
with pride and fearful hate sped on
into the fair extending line:
The vanguard of Esteletine.        130
With trumpets shrill commanding cry
and banners raised into the sky,
the blighted land beneath their feet
quaked as the fay, with wrath replete
rode on to meet the coming foe            135
with cries of dread and chants of woe.
There, on the field of Jubula,
beneath the glare of sky and star
the earth drank blood of drake and knight
as Cancalon faced fairy might.            140

No count is made in any tale
of what transpired in that vale
of Jubula's war-ruined ground.
No full account may thus be found.
But it is said the fairies slew        145
and Cancalon at last withdrew
for he could not contest their might;
Esteletine so forced his flight.
Long in the shadows did he hide
with one fair shaft fast in his side,        150
and of his steed, all we may know
is where it lies, there nothing grows.
Yet of the fairies, few were slain,
on that night, on the eastern plain.

The field of Jubula, they won        155
and triumphed over Cancalon
So ended was his cruel reign
on Enedentia's sullied plain.
Far to the east did he retreat
and brooded long his famed defeat.        160
Yet what of his enchanting snake:
that foul, treasure hoarding drake?
The fairy lords of Tirilien,
the masters of Anorien
returned with spoils as from a raid            165
with silver cups and golden blades,
with jeweled crowns, with brazen shields
and scepters from that battle field.

So with the joy and spoil of war
they won from battle field afar,        170
the fay enriched their mighty caves
and took to faring on the waves.
No need had they of shade or stealth
and with the knowledge of their wealth
spread wide abroad by trav'lling airs        175
they ventured from their hidden lairs
and searched the yet ungoverned land
Esteletine won by his hand.
Anorien, which stretches east
to where the river's flowing ceased        180
they named Esteletine's domain,
extending far their blessed reign.

But in the heights of Felabrin
beneath the seat of Camelin
the mighty sickle can be seen        185
extending from where it has been;
It points to fair An Cirion,
that same which shone on Cancalon
and high above the fairy caves
the mighty symbol, bright and grave            190
the coming of an age portends
and yet unraveled dooms impend.
The fairies from the rocky shore
where waves on cavern gates made war
ascended to the scented plain        195
and so begun their destined reign.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Last few words: 
The last Canto written. Number eight is incomplete, and now obsolete. The main story arc has ended, and the fairies now live in the east. The events that follow are told in the Tale of Blessed Kings. The story has greatly changed since, but the main events still remain the same. When I will resume the writing of this, I do not know. The prose is far ahead right now, and I'm reluctant to write a poem based on that. I may skip ahead and go to more exciting parts of the tale.
Editing stage: 


And style. Beautiful

But what did you think of the story? Was it fun, boring, enthralling? Did you appreciate the characters in the world and would you want to know more about their history?

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

author comment

When I arrive I may have too much to say. Can you handle some rather detailed analysis if I'm having fun preparing said analysis?

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Detailed analysis is what I expect, and what I really want.

It will greatly help me develop this story. And I trust you'll do a good job with it.

Have as much fun as you want :-)

I'll post the final parts of Inve and Tantalla, to complete the work.

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

author comment
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