A Precious Love in a Fantasy Land

The Hydra finished its oats
and hissed, “My Preciousssssss…”

It was winter’s end, new life beginning,
renewed as dawn’s fluttering beauty
glistened like blossoms of honey.
The wings of the mighty enchantress
were disturbed, her orange and black wings
a wild apparition in the light of the sunrise.

The Nymphs bathed in the brook,
planting caramel kisses on my neck,
tonight would hold the love I wanted to make.
The arrival of the hell hounds
ended my fanciful embrace of bittersweet rapture
as they halted and bayed, demon eyes burning.

They continued on into the forest,
and the horror of the hounds passed.
The songs of the sirens returned,
the fauns danced in the meadow with the satyrs
while I played with my medieval finger massager,
content.

The hyppogriff and the Pegasus
were discussing what color their cave walls should be, pink or black,
and argued over the velvety flavors of chocolate and raspberry
intermingling on their tongues
that finally gave way to complete euphoria.

A Chimera played a harp
which enticed our mind into rainbows,
celestial bodies, and tantalizing music
and brought to life the little things
that are taken for granted in this pastoral land.

I stood on the battlement of the redoubt
overlooking the siege workshop below.
This untroubled year was nearing the end of October.

The drawbridge over the moat was being repaired
by a regiment of the Prince’s militia.
The land had been under the ‘curse of the billy goat’
the previous year,
due to the town doctor underestimating the time
his cast would come off the Banshee’s foot.
He was always an over-optimist and under-estimator,
and the town suffered.

The armory could not construct anything right,
their trebuchets fell apart and their earthworks crumbled.
The falcons got sick in the aviary,
the smithy made all left-footed horseshoes,
and the murder hole was infested with toadstools.
The vast power of the spring storm, with it’s ferocious clouds,
screeching winds bending the trees, sheets of rain
and thunderous lightening blew the curse away,
but left in its wake chaos and destruction.

These obstacles were quickly overcome-
the arrow smith crafted arrows better than before,
the blacksmith hammered swords and armor
unsurpassed in the land, the cobbler's shoes
made that season lasted four generations,
and the goldsmith's works were legend far and wide.

All the workshops were busy
when I opened your letter written in lipstick.
“You are my shining star, my sun, my moon,
and everything in between.”
Sometimes it is little things like this
that heal the trepidation of the omens
of the recent divinations.

That night I slept in unearthly fits.
In my dream I looked at you, 
a Gryphon was ripping your flesh apart,
nails rending your spine, tearing muscle from bone,
your blood-curdling screams echoing through the chamber
and the satin sheets, now bloodstained, were gruesome and gaudy
as you were disemboweled, blinded, and burned, then
shriveled and decomposed as the souls of the Centaurs
carried you away…

The Archbishop arrived with the Queen
followed by fairies and unicorns.
This, I thought, was a pleasant change
from the demons and spirits that haunted my nights.

A wayward goose flew overhead
and was devoured by the Kraken,
a tiny mouse caught and eaten by the Grendel,
and a bunny made a nice lunch for the Cyclops
as I went forth to greet the visitors.
I did not make anything of these signs.

I summoned the poets to give them a dandy yarn,
the dancers were heralded, the mimes and bards entertained,
and the fortune teller fascinated all.
Best of all were the witches and magicians in the evening
casting spells and enchantments
as the candle waxed and melted into the night.

Ah, that night. Much better than the last.
You were there again, unfastening my mantle,
I, your chastity belt and veil,
my breeches fell loosely to the floor,
your scarlet russet followed as you anxiously
awaited my touch. I wanted you so much…

They still danced out in the market,
parading in the streets
with many gay colors in the spring breeze.
The impending season fascinated us with nature’s creations
and completely intoxicated all with its scents
and colors of yellow, orange, and red,
that smelled all the sweeter in the morning light.

Winter’s slow thaw was engraved in my mind
with your silk embroidery and cambric gloves
that you wore the last time I saw you
nine hundred miles away,
your sapphire blue eyes saying “I love you”.
I desperately wanted to hold you.

The Giants continued devouring the monkeys and squirrels
as I sat quietly pondering my lifelong problems.
The Giants left a horrible scar on the land,
so I gathered the vigilantes and we drove them off,
and erected a watchtower and outerworks
manned by archers to keep them at bay.

I met with the Archbishop and Queen
to discuss the impending storm of disease and violence,
before innocent lives were caught
in a hopeless spiral of atrocities of war.
We agreed to disagree, and the Queen stayed the summer.

She found she was pregnant in the autumn.
Everyone had an opinion as to what went wrong,
and which criminal committed the crime.
Was it the handsome mercenary who stayed a fortnight
in the inn?
Maybe the Friar fond of red wine,
or the Shepherd with the fine dead-animal toupee?
The knight was not suspected, and neither was the cobbler,
but the goldsmith and the scribe were known to fool around,
as was the minstrel, but he was off in the other villages
with the clockmaker being treated by the physician
for the infections they received while in the stocks.
The Earl and Baron may have had their fling
after the ball, but the celebrity artists have been following them
closely trying to paint their pictures for the town gazette.
It turned out to be the King himself,
who romantically slipped in disguised as a Burgher
peddling the wares of his confectioner and cutlers.

The Queen soon gave birth a little Prince they called Sir Peanut,
and he listened to many fairy tales and songs
before he grew into a handsome Lord.
The Wizard made him little electric pink soldiers
that appeared to be so simple in wigs and ornaments of armor-
shields, axes, spears, flails, plated armor, hauberks,
and great helms for the Champions-
all were at his command.
He grew into a great military tactician and strategist
and the land was kept safe, and commerce flourished
under his astute leadership.
For him it was only a creative outlet
that ran in the family.
The townspeople were proud of him,
and he loved every minute of it.

One crossbowman had a bad aim
and to cure him a maiden was presented to be his wife.
They were brought an elegant dinner in the Great Hall,
their thoughts wandered to the impending night,
spreading whipped cream over each other
and dipping strawberries.

The festivities ended, the night arrived.
He picked her up and carried her to the bedchamber.
She tossed her blouse, her form cupped in the delicate fabric.
His breath on her neck soon met with her lips,
their eyes pierced, they heaved and twisted,
and that night was spend in a frenzy of animalistic desire
and he said ‘ale’ as she said ‘grog’,
and they argued into the night.
His aim, of course, was improved,
and indeed he was soon the Royal Marksman.

Before the next winter set in the Cardinal
sent out an expedition to bring back Chinese hot pepper,
as this was determined by the soothsayers
in ritual and botanomancy to hold the essence
of the talisman that would defend the kingdom
of the impending invasion of Trolls and Giants.

The expedition had to battle goblins and orcs
in the foothills of the kingdom
and would have been overcome by the beasts
if not for the skill of the shaman that accompanied them.
His alchemy changed the beast’s blood to salt,
and the company traveled on.
several men-at-arms were wounded are had to be left behind.
They were protected from the werewolves of the land
by lacing themselves together and covering their battle wounds.

They returned before the blizzard season
and returned to their wives with volumes spoken
and desires ignited.
The wounded hobbled in on crutches,
dead skin stuck in their boots.
They had a find collection of pine cones for the village children
who took them to their humble abodes to impress their friends
and play with their gigantic dogs.

That night we were overcome with lust
as if we had first met,
your heart pounding frantically against my chest.
We started with one tender kiss,
then my heart took flight on the wings of a Phoenix
and the future seemed bright and truly blessed.

In the morning I cooked you fare from distant lands
with rare herbs and spices to sate our appetite
while you freshened in the shower.
I would have beat down to door if I weren’t so busy
keeping the spawns of the devil out of my culinary efforts.
They had a penchant for adding occasional maggots
or revolting animal decay, or the fresh blood
of savage demons plagued by the dirty fingers
of ghastly creatures and moldy skeletons.

Words of love flowed from our heads
under the fluffy clouds; spring had sprung,
I yearned to walk again
with you, the highlight of my day,
and let my brain turn to mush just for fun
as once again my ring-plated body armor failed
against your touch miles from our home.
We stayed up all night in the wild
trading sweet words
back and forth under the moon
this long time ago in this place far, far, away,
our very own fantasy land.

End of Part VI, 256-334, of the "Seven Epic Adventures of candy177".

Intermission.