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