Rachel's Big Book of Prophecies
Rachel blew the dust off of the old book in the attic. She still couldn't see the title. Taking a shirt sleeve she rubbed the thick layer of dust off of the cover of the book. The title shined gold in the sunlight coming through the attic window.
The Book of Prophecy
The book in which every prophecy ever made by the oracle, going all the way back to Delphi even, had been notated.
She opened the cover and began to read.
1)
As told to John Tolkein, son of Athena, by the Oracle The King beneath the mountains, His crown shall be upholden, The woods shall wave on mountains The streams shall run in gladness, 2) The days of past will soon unfold, 3) As given to Roman Emperor Julian the Apostate by the Oracle of Delphi, mid-4th century AD Tell to the king that the carven hall is fallen in decay; 4) The Greek lady of ugly beauty,
The King of carven stone,
The lord of silver fountains
Shall come into his own!
His harp shall be restrung,
His halls shall echo golden
To songs of yore re-sung.
And grass beneath the sun:
His wealth shall flow in fountains
And the rivers golden run.
The lakes shall shine and burn,
All sorrow fail and sadness
At the Mountain-king's return!
Unleashing a story once left untold,
With the death of a leader with hair of gold,
To know whether the future is bought or unsown.
Apollo has no chapel left, no prophesying bay,
No talking spring. The stream is dry that had so much to say.
Made happy by countless suitors:
Transferred out to the Spanish realm,
Taken captive to die a miserable death.
