The mountain tops a peak, lay a lone warrior who climbed up the long and
steep.
His blade was trim in gold and base in silver, his skin was pale and his
long locks gray.
The brave and lone warrior was aspiring and bold, his courage brought
him a top this peak.
He would lay down his blade, were it to stop the humble and kind from
becoming the meek.
He would not lay still while the wars beckoned him forward, he was
humble, he was kind,
he dare not show himself as meek. He would climb this mountain, on which
he now stood.
He smiled when he climbed to the very top. He was once just a young boy,
entwining his fingers
on the string, fastened of boar intestine, he would play his lute and
sing to the young girls.
But t'was not this boy they wandered and sought, it was the boy who
fought. The boy of lute had become a man, through many events that drove
him along the bays, the rivers, and villages about. He lay his lute by
the side of an old man, and tossed aside the bard's life, he no longer
was fit for a world of tales and legends. He grabbed blade of steel and
armor of iron, it was now he would not be a bard, it was now he would
become a warrior, and fight as fierce as the lions. He would meet many
in battle and many in taverns a time after. He was kind, he was stout,
he planned on reaching a mountain in a short time about. Many would
follow, were it not for his choice. He climbed that mountain when his
long locks were the most dark of browns, his eyes were filled with
ambition and youth. Over the many years, the many struggles he faced
with smiles, frowns, and laughter, he sought nothing but the top, there
was nothing that could put his journey to a stop. His stubborness was
the beauty of a boy, and the ugliness of an old man. He eventually made
it to the peak, he conquered all who opposed his beliefs. His blade was
trim in gold and base in silver, but it lay coated in crimson blood, for
many were slain. His skin was pale and his long locks, gray. Fore it was
here he lay upon the peak, old and wounded, soon he'd pass on to another
life. The brave and lone warrior was aspiring and bold, it led him to
many victories, but it caused him to take many lives, he wished now, he
had settled down, and bore children with his wife. His courage brought
him atop this peak, yet in truth it was death in the end he would seek.
He was victorious until the end. He would lay down his blade, were it to
stop the humble and kind from becoming the meek. Now his blade lay on
the mountain top, he was a man of courage, one who could not be stopped.

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Aeguary, in the year 538 AF.