#poetry for my FMP uni project

[whitegoldtower]

Banwe, Vyrnwe, and the Song of Three

Banwe of the river West and

Vyrnwe of the river East

Watching over bird and beast,

Happened upon a group of three;

Three a’knocking at a tree.

So said Banwe of the West,

“Wherefore dost thou enter here?

Three for Gandryll, up the Weir.”

“We are Alder,” Gwynvaer said,

“Rowan, Willow. Live nor dead.”

“You do not live within our waters,”

Vyrnwe of the East thus spake,

“Neither haddock nor of hake?

Amphibious sons or mer-folk daughters;

A test of pwca, you must take.”

Gwynvaer of the giant’s blood, Aelf,

And Folcwyn of the Glyn,

Possessing neither scale nor fin,

Thus agreed to take the trial:

Or drinketh from a deadly phial.

And so the Western river spoke;

“A thousand golden rings have I

To count as time goes passing by;

But to see my treasure bold,

You must split me, stark and cold,

For I am the King which goes untold

Despite my hundred acre hold.”

Three did stop and think a while.

“You are but a tree of oak.”

Thus Folcwyn of the Glyn hath spoke.

“And though my answer ringeth true,

I have one to ask of you.”

The river to the East did laugh,

And wore a cocksure, haughty smirk;

A subtle eyebrow he did quirk.

“What hath thou to ask of me,

That I be bested by you three?”

Folcwyn moved to answer then,

But was stopped short by his friend;

“Let me speak, love, let me end

This wit-battle, lest we loop.”

Thus, sweet Aelf did lead the group.

He spoke with grace and tenderness;

“An idle carving wielding power,

A man shall sit with me for hours.

I conquer Kings and dominate rooms,

And send the condemned to their tombs.”

Silence then descended there,

Hanging hard upon the air.

Banwe hummed and Vyrnwe hawed,

“A sly question, posed, milord.”

“Might we have some time to spare?”

The east and west deliberated,

Focused solely on the sky,

The group of three so passed them by.

Gwynvaer, Aelf and Folcwyn, here,

Entered Gandryll, up the Weir.