Eidolon of a Took
Join Date: Sep 2002
Location: my own private fantasy world
Posts: 3,460
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As Halfullion Gormlessar passed from the world, time slowed significantly, until it went beyond slo-mo to an actual standstill. In those few momentless moments, a few select things happened. Etceteron, stunned beyond words at the deed which he had just done, stooped motionless over the deceased Hero. He, along with time, was stunned into an impenetrable state of freeze frame, and the thoughts that fled through his head, I cannot here name.
Vogonwë was awed at the vivid mortality before him. Into his cranium there leapt unbidden a string of words, and as time stood still and twiddled its thumbs, he spoke in a low, sonorous, mellifluous, melodious, harmonious, euphonious voice (intoning thusly):
Death of an Half-Elf
His blood ran red—
Carmine and crimson,
Vermeil and vermilion,
He was dead—Halfullion.
Cardinal and currant ran out,
Upon the ground.
Like burgundy claret,
He blood pooled 'round.
I stand in shock,
Upon this rock,
And look upon,
His golden locks,
His hair so blonde,
Feathered across his forehead.
Some moments hence,
He came from thence,
So heroic and quixotic.
And now he lays in a daze,
That is to say death (but poetic).
Ah, Halfullion! You were truly an,
Worthy and most noble companion,
A talented and stylish beautician,
Wielder of a most mightily morphing sword,
Though you were certainly out of your gourd.
Where go you now, thou of split heredity?
For you were an half-elf, like me.
Though I don’t recall you having,
A crisis with your fated identity.
Where ere thy soul doth fled,
Now that thy mortal body be dead,
May thou find a land with many hirsute heads,
All in undying need of styling gel.
Go now, fair soul, and even though,
You yawned at all my poetry,
Be at peace, Lord of Fool Intrepidity!
Vogonwë was so moved at the death of the half-elf, that when he was done with the dirge, he turned with a cry and let fly with a half-dozen arrows at once, taking out his half-elven frustration on a baker’s dozen of Orcs—and the Baker, too.
With a disgruntled sigh, Time awoke from its slumber, and moved on.
[ March 01, 2003: Message edited by: Diamond18 ]
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All shall be rather fond of me and suffer from mild depression.
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