Krator, you saw me frozen stiff by a drake,
My throat a river, my fate on a break,
Potions sloshing as I bargained with death,
Surviving purely out of spite and breath.

You named me then, with a troll's fine art,
Not with mercy, but straight from the heart:
River Throat, born of ice and poor luck,
While you smashed your foes like bread freshly stuck.

Later, I nearly killed your hound by mistake,
(Still sorryconfusion is hard to unmake),
Yet seeing me mounted, not broken or small,
You knighted me loudly, laughter and all.

So joke if you must, let the legend be crude,
But that name held me fast when the cold had subdued
For beneath all the humor, the roar, and the boast,
I lived... and you saw it, Sir River Throat.

Penned by my hand on the 5th of Valnuary, in the year 997 AF.