An omen from across the sea,
This bizarre, wondrous thing, what can it be?
Friend or foe, this mysterious flask,
You'll never know unless you ask.
A child-knight rides north from his lands,
They call him the fool- he'll not understand.
He was born to be nurtured, his Mam held him close and near,
Safe from all worry, and every sort of fear.
But just as no one can stop the sun from setting with their one hand,
A mother cannot stop her son from growing to be a man.
This knightling went to join the leagues of his Lord,
Wanted to be strong, have a lady, castle, and horde.
And although his Mam was still saddened, she wanted him shrewd,
So she told him, "Don't ask questions- they'll think that you're rude."
But still, he'd try for King and kin,
He'll prove he is no fool, and then he will win.
But Fate reaches her hands to ice his sweet breath,
This innocent child, near exhausted to death
His horse's step is heavy and dogged,
His eyes are tired and his thoughts are bogged.
He wants to sleep, to rest his fair crown,
But the lands are quiet and all Hope seems drown.
Then a rustle on the water, the splash of a paddle,
A man with an oar and a man with a tackle.
He calls to the men in the name of his Christ,
Asks for a place to sleep, any will suffice.
The man replies back, his house is upon the ridge,
There's no place to cross, no land or no bridge.
He'll have to wait until morn's first light,
But until this time, he can rest there from his plight.
The boy thanks the man and he rides towards the place,
A new Hope in his head and a new light on his face.
He'll eat good food tonight, good bread with good lard,
He'll sleep tonight, and he'll sleep long and hard.
But he crosses the ridge and then up over the hill,
To find with a discontent that can kill,
No house can he see, and his eyes do see well,
So he curses the Fisher and he damns him to Hell.
But being a knight, he is undaunted still,
And so he rides and rides on over that hill.
The lands soon grow weary, life sucked from its vein,
No people are around, no cattle or grain.
Until his fine eyes with the sight of a owl,
See soon the rise of a giant tower.
Beautiful it is and it makes his heart thud,
He pushes his horse to make it to through the mud.
A young boy meets him there and takes away his steed,
While another hands him a new cloak, and another leads him to his feed.
They enter the hall, so ostentatious,
So magnificently grand and incredibly spacious.
The knight is surprised because the land seems so poor,
The people'd be hungry and their stomachs would roar.
But before he can finish what he is thinking,
He is lead to the Great Hall, where a great crowd was drinking.
The food smelled so fine that it made his mouth water,
And the heat from the fire warmed his cold face hotter.
A smile was about to come, but then a frown crossed o'er his face,
Across the room lay the Fisher on a bed, with pillowcases of lace.
The man beckoned him close and asked him not to take regard,
He was sick, but the knight shook his head- he'd not take it hard.
But just then, to distract their attention asunder,
Came along a sword, made by lightening and thunder.
This sword the fisher gifted to the knight,
Saying it'd be more useful to him in a fight.
They turned back to their light talk once again,
Asking more questions, friend-to-friend.
The night grew long, but they stayed up still,
The feast was to die for and the wine could kill.
But then, quiet filled the halls as something came a-new
A beautiful girl carrying what the strongest could not do.
A golden goblet flashed in front of the young fool's eyes,
Questions came to his mind, but his courage failed to rise.
All eyes turned to the stranger, filled with hope and joy,
But their wishes were lost in the asinine mind of a boy.
The knight would not ask a word of this rule,
All hope is lost in the eyes of a fool.