Courtship in Minia

By: Niccolo Posted on: November 28, 2004

Midsummer night, eleven years ago,
The Imp Lord rode upon his hellcat steed
To that far village where the Pixies dwell,
But not, as some suppose, to do them ill.
He'd told his court his pleasure was to hunt,
Calmed their suspicions with a partial truth
And then set out upon his secret deed,
To woo the Pixie Queen.

He bore black roses and an iron ring,
Rare gifts in Ember vale, but not the match
Of flowers any Pixie child might wear
In her red locks, or butterflies that hang
Like jeweled pendants in the summer air.
These with a strange but singlehearted love
The dusky suitor brought unto the grove
Where lived the Pixie Queen.

Beneath the ancient oak the lover paused,
Drew in the breath of gardens, and beheld
The gentle creature reclining in a bower
Watching the shimmer of the splashing pond.
She spied him from far off, bade him approach,
Her Pixie curiosity much moved
To see an Imp unarmored and unarmed
Before the Pixie Queen.

You who say Imps are heartless did not hear
How he did plead, with what sincerity
He offered her the sweetness of the dark
And ladyship of both the day and night.
But as Her Highness answered with a kiss,
One of her servants, passing, saw the scene
And raised the cry "An Imp! A dreadful Imp
Attacks the Pixie Queen!"

In burst the guards: what could the monarch fair
Have done to stay their swords? The Imp Lord fled,
Thinking some sign of hers had brought them there,
Heart shattered by the thought of her betrayal.
He vanished in a final flash of smoke,
Rode home to nurse the embers of his rage,
And in his jealousy wrought bitter war
Upon the Pixie Queen.

These days no roses bloom in Ember vale:
A restless watch is kept in Minia
Where Imps and Pixies brandish spear and bow
And buy each others' blood with coins of gold,
But when the breeze of Valnuary blows,
The Ember Tower echoes with a sigh,
And on her mirror looks with misted eye
The somber Pixie Queen.