The Loss

THE TALE OF A SHE-ELF’S RISE TO WARRIOR

3

The garrison marched. Nimgalliel waited

            until the last of the lines to fall in, to blend.

Some of them looked, shook their heads, and smiled;

            she grinned back.

 In the tower, looking down, the King and Queen saw her, as

            they turned, perplexed, and gazed upon each other.

“You should’ve known to forbid her

            makes her more determined.

            She’s not another She-Elf

            in the kingdom. Nimgalliel will

            follow his footsteps.”

            He looked at her, “It troubles me. I made a promise

                        ere they died

                        she would be cared for,

                        and suffer no harm.”

            She smiled, “My love, she is young. Let her do this.”

            They walked away from the tower overlook

                        and said small prayers for their warriors’ safe return.

            Said the King to his son,

                        “Good night, my Prince, my heir, my blood.”

            Below, Nimgalliel, and the others marched on,

                         she, uneasy; they undaunted.

Chorus– in unison:

She, a warrior, like her father, dreamt of battle until she could stand no more. The murderers all were vanquished, and in her dream, Nimgalliel faked death no more. The gods thrust the dagger into her hands, and without a sound, it wielded true. She would prevail, for when any man gloats that he will enjoy killing a woman and her destiny, it is his moment of weak bravado.

The Loss

THE TALE OF A SHE-ELF’S RISE TO WARRIOR

2

The King looked round his court

             and set his gaze on the garrison leader:

            “Gather your strong warriors, prepare to march!

            We have sightings of our foes along the borders

            of our beloved kingdom.

            I decree their deaths! I decree our victory!

            I decree their defeat!”

“Yes, my Lord,” he stepped back.

The King looked round the room

            after the garrison leader bowed out

            and saw her to his right.

A look of annoyance filled his eyes. He winced a whisper,

            “What are you doing here? I summoned great warriors,

            Like my son on my left!”

            “My Lord, but I am,” she whispered to her Grace.

            “No! Protect the Queen. You stay here!”

            “I’m a warrior and shall go with the garrison.”

            “Do as you are told,” he seethed. “Return to the Queen’s side. You’re dismissed!”

She turned, stormed from the room, and went without a word.

            Chorus– in unison:

She-Elf knew her fate, called on her gods, felt her blade, walked straight and true, out of the castle, into hiding, awaiting her getaway. None dared reveal her, they concealed her, she was proven, she had won them, she had shown them, and her warrior men all loved the She-Elf, Nimgalliel, their Muse. She would prevail, for when a man gloats that he enjoys killing a woman and her destiny, it is his moment of cowardess.

This is a poem that has several sections to it. I wrote it originally with another character for a game in mind but that changed. I decided to change the character’s name to Nimgalliel. She is my toon from the game Lord of The Rings Online. This is the story of how she became a warrior. Thank you to the people who originally made the poem possible to write.

The Loss

THE TALE OF A SHE-ELF’S RISE TO WARRIOR

1

She, Nimgalliel, strode to the throne room with the warrior guards,

            summoned by the king. She strode,

            step for step,

            with the King’s heir,

            his son.

Nimgalliel looked round to know she, the only She-Elf in the room,

            had earned the right long ago

            defending the queen

            to be there.

Other females were content in Elfin mysteries:

            they saw fighting as for Elf males to do.

She, Nimgalliel, stood alone, throne right; the King’s son stood to her left,

            her hand on the hilt of her treasured dagger,

            gifted in death throws by her father.

At once, the King strode to the throne; everyone smartly bowed.

She knew that look on his scar worn face: they would all prepare for war.

Chorus– in unison:

She would be a warrior like her father: the Captain of the Royal Guard. The day he and her Elf-mother were slain, they were attacked by an opposing kingdom. Her father fought till he could stand no more. The murderers left them all for dead, but Nimgalliel faked death to live. As the attackers left, she ran to her dying father who took his dagger, thrust it into her imploring hands, and without a sound, she knew her fate. He slipped to the gods, leaving Nimgalliel, the She-Elf, to seek revenge as a Royal Guard. She would prevail, for when any man gloats that he will enjoy killing a woman and her destiny, it is his moment of weakness.