When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode:
His food she brought in iron baskets, his drinks in cups of iron:
Crown'd with a helmet & dark hair the nameless female stood;
A quiver with its burning stores, a bow like that of night,
When petilence is shot from heaven: no other arms she need!
Invulnerable tho' naked, save where clouds roll around her loins
Their awful folds in the dark air: silent she stood at night;
For never from her iron tongue could voice or sound arise,
But dumb til that dread day when Orc assay's his fierce embrace."
were it not so bright that night I never would have noticed...him...shadow wreathed and standing tall, so quiet, dark head shrouded despite the gleaming. beside him sat the Red and the Black resting, so it seemed, as if they'd rather not be paired with such.
why here, why now, am wondering...because of the Shrine, the Knowing, that I am the Only One to see?
is there danger in the Knowing, a betrayal of the Given stumbled upon by Me? Perhaps. But what is done is done and now They must abide or solve this problem given. For I came not to Them but rather Them to me...i sought not, wanted not, aimed not, thought not. Still, He stands attended to by Messengers and I must deal with this, but How? How, i ask in secret.
I tell you this truely...the Keeper and his Attendents will not drive me from this treasure. so too will i not betray the trust wrest from those who stood before my coming unknown and shielded from the Others. No. I'd rather die that that...