BriHard's Saga

Yeah, he's an LOTR fan, but his favorite poetry is Kipling - go figure. I love the 'strong women' theme. Granted - the other 3 members of his project group were young ladies - lol. I don't like this style - too ponderous for my liking but the assignment was to stay as close to the conventions of the time as possible.


Long years ago in time-forgotten lands
Three fair huntresses, women of the sword and bow
Did lose the man fo whom their love was shared
Strong Ithidur was taken, torn from them
By Kinithra, demon witch of the north cliffs.

Days long they despaired, knowing not.
For Ithidur was gone without word.
But murmurs grew in the night, of a horror
She who sucks the soul of men most loved
Feeding her power and longing for life.

So after long months they did depart
Searching for word or rumor of this beast
But silent was the wind of rumor
And so they returned, knowing not his fate
But such was not to be the end.

Ten months hence, a traveller came,
One speaking of her love, lost to Kinithra,
A temptress of magical beauty, known to her
And other women of the north, for such was her legend
Of young men taken and never seen again.

And so the lonely trio did set out.
Strong Ashalla, woman of sword and shield
Known for strength and courage above all others.
Fair Eliarna, of the bow and lance,
With eagle eyes and nerve of forged steel

And last, swift Etherea, of dagger and the poison touch.
Swift and silent through rocks and woods,
The three did travel two hundred and forty days and nights,
Through fields and hills, ever movng north
'Til at last one day they came to Trillnor.

Trillnor, famous town of travellers,
High in the hills, beyond the central plain
Lay wrecked and burning, crumbled at their feet.
Bodies of the slain lay crushed beneath them
Ashes of the victims scattered in the wind.

They saw the death and carnage all around.
Wept they, for the souls and memories of the dead.
But late that night, while all lay still and silent,
One survivor, a woman white of hair and ageless
Told them of the army of Kinithra.

Twenty and four men of the witch,
Those she had possessed for many years,
Had attacked the town, killing without mercy.
And seeing this, the women made a pact
Not to let their loved one fall into the darkness.

And so they left, marching further north
Newly resolved with the burden in their minds
Of agony and sorrow, to find their lost husband
And take him from the clutches of the demon,
To save him from the darkness of her power.


Long months passed.
Summer slipped into autumn, autumn into winter.
Moving north through indswept, snowy plains
And hills, as the land grew high and cold,
The draining march contnued

Far north, beyond Vernacht Pass
Perched high upon the cliffs of Veredan
A lonely house stood sentinel above all.
In her castle home of hatred
Kinithra spent her sleepless says and nights.

Her captives in the dungeons dank and cold
Beneath the solid house of brick and stone
They slept and lived, if you call it that,
But there, in the strangest of all places
Love had found a quiet home.

For there was one, Cilidra the Younger,
Sister of the demon Kinithra
Her heart not stone but buried under fear
But she had found one worthy of her love,
A captive of her sister, Ithidur his name.

She cared not for former lives,
For former loves, wives, families,
For she knew nothing of what there was
Beyond the granite halls and fallow cliff
And she came to him and he warmed to her.

Months passed, many months.
Their love grew strong, ther lust greater
Most of all their hope, hope of something more
They had little but each other
And months later, a child was born.

The child was kept secret fom the demon
Yet she knew that something was afoot
Then one day, she heard cries,
Whimpers of the young and then she found him
Child of Ithdur, a child of the damned.

Hatred consumed her, fiery temper,
For how could they love in this place?
She stormed and raged, hate consuming all,
She killed the boy and cast the mother out,
To wander through a world she did not know.

For weeks she wandered southwards,
Armed with fear and clothed in rags,
'Til she came upon three travellers,
Ashalla, Eliarna, Etherea of the South
And told them of the demon and her evil.

The women stared at her, this woman from the North,
Speaking of Ithidur as HER love and baby's father.
They told her of their quest and she agreed
To march with them to end Kinithra's time on earth
And save the man for whom their love was shared.


Winter waned, passing into spring.
Three far fom home and one cast out of same,
Moved ever northwards, drawing near their goal
Of rescuing their man most dear,
And slaying she who took him fom their home.

Through forest, brooks and vales they marched,
O'er rocky hills, the mountains drawing near,
Then they came at last to the Vernacht pass,
High citadels of wind torn rocks,
Gateway to the Northern cliffs.

For years this pass had stood alone,
The sole way through the mountains.
Kinithra's guards now watched the road,
A dozen mail-clad men of war,
Silent sentries overhead.

'Til dark they waited, silently watching,
Then stealthily crept through,
Shadows among shadows, whspers in the breeze
Then at long last, they carefully emerged,
Safe from the prying eyes of those above.

The cliff-top home of she they sought,
Lay ghostly in the morning mist above,
Brooding there in watchful silence over all
An so they walked the stone-hewn steps
To save ther man, or die in the attempt.

Silence, shadows in the granite halls,
Creeping downwards to the dungeons
They continued, listening, smelling in the air
Those below, captives of the demon in her hatred
Those damned to cells by fickle hands of fate.

And there, the found him, lying in a corner, by a torch
Ithidur, strong man weak from many months of fear,
Tainted darkly by the sorrow in the walls
And very essence of this place, but still alive,
So they roused him, took him quietly upstairs.

Through the dark halls they stole, slipping through the door
For the first time in long months the air of freedom
On his face and in his breath, but then a foul smell,
For there she found them, Kinithra in the dark,
And without word or cry she then attacked.

Fought they tried, swords glinting with the rising sun,
Arrows, daggers, slicing through the morning mist,
But hitting nothing, nothing but the morning air
And with a savage blow, Ashalla was struck down,
Not dead, but helpless at the demon's feet.

But then a blur of speed, a crash and Cilidra,
The sister of the witch, embraced the demon, and,
With an anguished cry pushed her near the cliff,
And so they fell, a fading cry into the raging durf below,
And he was saved, the man for whom their love was shared.