The Dark Lord's Cauldron
--spoony bard
Dark was the hill
upon which stood the cashel
of the dark lord.
Darker still
were the hearts of his guardians,
servants of the dark lord.
Dark was the will
that held the souls of the people
who dwelt at the base of the dark lord's keep.
Dark was the night
into which they'd been flung,
Wardens of Eire, heroes all.
They had come seeking the Cauldron,
Cachram of Danu
disgraced and dirtied
by the hands of the dark lord.
Donnell the Bear there was,
Leifus, Prince of Sidhe,
and Tove Dragonslayer also,
come to revive the Forest Knight,
consort of Liban Firehair
who came with a great sadness and rage,
for her lover had fallen.
Many mighty companions had they,
heroes of renown or secrecy,
come to take Danu's Blessing
from this place of hate.
Donnell the bear took from the Morrigan
a blessing of battle-rage,
and as his companions started off
towards this keep of the dark lord,
Donnell vented his skill
on the first of the dark lord's guardians.
Five twins were they,
hearts of stone and faces all the same,
but dismayed were they,
when Donnell's steel felled the first of them
before they had issued any single stroke
of their black blades.
From the mound of black stone
upon the hill
there was a roar and a rumble
and out of the cashel's evil mouth
issued a stream of profanity
in the shape of monstrous beasts.
Redcaps were they;
forged of man and beast together
in unholy matrimony--
strong were their arms,
weak were their minds,
and upon their head they wore a cap of blood.
Donnell's rage knew no bounds
and as his allies dove down the throat
of the evil stone edifice
he turned his attention to them
with a red gleam in his eye.
One, two, three, four they fell,
as Donnell hewed away with glee
but on the brow of the keep appeared
a dark bright star,
Daerg Tine, warder of this black place.
Fiery was her visage,
red, her temperament,
blazing was her gaze,
and hate was in her heart--
corrupted Sidhe.
From her disc of Fire issued
a great wreath of flames
which grew to a wall
that bore down upon Donnell.
Blessed was he,
for he had befriended a Fey of the waters,
Bloduedd was she,
and her arcane aquatics
sent forth a wave of water to stop the foe.
The flame and water rent and tore at one another
in the space of a heartbeat
and a great hissing cacophany was heard;
fog covered the face of the blighted hill.
But the Morrigan wished to see her champion,
and a great flock of ravens came unto the field,
whisking away the shroud of steam,
to see Donnell rend another of his opponents,
split in twain.
Daerg Tine, for her part,
descended into the bowels of her dark charge,
determined to halt the invasion of the light
brought by Leifus and Tove.
A dozen redcaps within, they slaughtered,
under the gaze of Liban Firehair.
Blood and ash mingled
as the defenders fell.
But the Sidhe with the soul of flame
held them at bay--
the upper regions of the keep,
they could not gain.
Donnell, who had run out of victims,
perceived that the keep held what he wanted;
ignoring the door, he clawed at the stone,
ascending the face of the edifice.
As one, the heroes charged--
Leifus from below, and Donnell from above.
She turned to face Donnell, but was no avail--
in one blow, he smote off her leg.
Rage became her,
and her body turned to fire.
Unrelenting, Donnell smote again,
and this time, it was through her heart.
Sword of Ice met Heart of Fire,
and the world stopped.
A great cataclysm rent the keep;
first fire, then ice, then both at once.
The once-proud fortress, corrupted to evil,
burst like a gourd hit with a hammer.
Donnell lay upon the ground, burnt and blackened,
Leifus beside him, covered in rubble,
and in the center of the ruin,
The Cauldron.
But it was not well,
for the Dark Lord had heard his minion's call;
He had come to keep
what he thought was his.
Leifus, seeing the urgency,
called for his chariot,
as the Dark Lord and his minions
bore down upon the ruins.
With a single mighty blow of Nuada's Arm,
he struck the Dark Lord's head from his shoulders,
to no avail,
for the Dark Lord merely walked over to his cranium,
and put it back on, like a hat.
Dismayed, Leifus hauled the cauldron into his chariot
and prepared to escape.
But luck was with him,
for his allies had also heard of this conflagration.
Like spring rain upon dry grass they came,
and it was the Dark Lord's turn to feel woe.
He withdrew from the field,
and the cauldron was again safe.
Far away they took it,
to a place sacred to Danu.
In its tender embrace,
the Forest Knight knew life again.
And Gods willing,
away it will stay--
secret and safe,
no longer to be abused
by mortal or immortal alike.