Fafnir

Fafnir

The ancient dragon rests prostrate and dreams
Scenes of murder and pain; how living seems
Faded and outworn, distant memories
Of when he was mortal and when he felt
When he once rested beneath the large trees
Joyous days where in constant peace he dwelt
Swirling ceaselessly with the springtime sky:

Those days would dissolve, his happiness die
When displayed to his kin, his brother’s skin;
Brought for prize by three gods in disguise
As weary nomads seeking a place to lay
Loki, mischief god, with guileful eyes
Had smashed him with a mound of earthly ground

With cunning magic and vehement rage
Fafnir and his kin conjured up a net,
From dwarven mysticism weaved, then laid
Into the holy powers of the gods
A clever snare, bidding that they bade
Subjugation upon the dwarves with obedient nods

As repentance they sought out the Rhine gold
'That has not it’s like in the wide heavens
Nor here on this earth has it’s tale been told'
So that greed shall replace sorrow and all
Will be made right,  and yet still all is wrong
For that gold was cursed; all who heard it’s call
Are forever trapped by it’s deadly song
Then frantic screams echoed in Fafnir’s hall
Fafnir ripped the gold from his Father’s hands
All character and customs abolished
And each of Fafnir’s kin were slain, the ring
Crafted from the gold, imbued with magic
Would be his for endless eternity
Ah, with the very mention of that thing
Fafnir’s dreams are violently shaken
From shadowy past recollections awakened

The dragon raises his limbering head
For, there, closing in on his lair, was he
The hero of timeless legend, well bred
Descended from godly divinity
Beguiled by Regin, Fafnir’s brother
Who survived Fafir’s self-destruction
Too meek though but to seek another

Sigurd’s face shows no hesitation
As he stalks through Fafnir’s lair
Intent to kill the dragon and retrieve
The gold, then taken from the slayer
Just as had Fafnir done without reprieve
When first he came under the ring’s spell
Up to that creature's den strode Sigurd brave
And upon it he spoke loud and well

“Nefarious and malevolent knave
For many eons hast thou rotteth here
Unmoved, slithering, vile and thoughtless
Coveting that very immolation
That now bringeth thee to oblivion;
Raise thyself, snake, and bring thyself to guard
For pain cometh, and the defeating strike”

Fafner raised up and scoffed at his visitor
Growled, and then let forth loud fulmination

“Ha! Insolent mortal! Wretched human,
Dost thou think to defeat me? To what end
Oh mighty hero, dost that purpose bring?
Be it honor, name, valiance or revenge?
Nay, of course not; thou seeketh the power;
The Ring of Legend, which bareth the mark
Of the three god’s retched  malediction.
I would deem it a worthy recompense;
My blood exchanged for that forsaken ring
And this pile beneath my feet be yours
And upon thy broad shoulders take it’s weight
That should weigh thee down, trembling in horror

Undaunted Sigurd raised his blade up high

“Mark my words well, vain virulent serpent
No man, no beast, nor any mortal foe
Has ever taught me fear, nor ever have
So all of your worries are unfounded

Thou art man: this ring distinguishes not
For all whose hand it touches paths’ are paved
With a morbid dysfunction boiling
Like a cauldron beneath their will,
And a salacious malady infects
All of one's reasoning beyond the ring
And so once again human folly strives
After love unattainable, and dies;
So goes so many of your petty lives
Enough! Let this fervid battle commence
Then we shall see what thy fate has in store”

With that, each side deals fierce blow upon blow
Until Sigurd, with skill and strength, smote him
And gathered up the high piled Rhinegold
Of which brought about Sigurd’s destruction
And of it the tale of the fall of the Niblung’s is told