Summer's Envoy [On Temporary Hiatus]

Envoy

Tale of Envoy Àineia, Douleureuse Garde 1690

Upon the bank of a thawing River I stand,
Observing the snowy façade masking the land.
Bleak and unforgiving, this wintry shelf,
Such is the home of the Dark Elf,
"Douleureuse Garde," Winter's sorrowful brand.

Warm and verdant are the places I long for,
Places like sprawling forests or a vast moor,
Places where life is abundant for all,
Places where nature could indeed grow tall,
Not this frozen emptiness that I now stand before.

The upkeep on their forsaken kingdom was nothing of note,
A broken bridge and no other crossing for their frozen moat.
Many brave fools have tried,
Only to be swept away by tumultuous tide.
But this title of Summer Envoy I hold, not just to gloat.

A thousand probabilities passed through my mind,
Each of them presenting a solution to this bind.
My thoughts were the river's foe,
A flame sparked of foresight's glow,
Until a voice called, halting my contemplation's grind.

I followed it, and found 'neath bridge's shadow did it lurk.
A Dark, Elven Fey, beaming at me with wolfish smirk.
His tattered armor that of a Raven,
But one who was unkempt and craven,
A vagrant river guide, perhaps looking for work?

"If you are lost, I can see the across; if to cross is your wish, I'll swim like a fish. Give me an inch, I'll sell you a mile; give me a shilling I'll sell you a smile. Tis 'neath moon's glow I greet thee now, a Good fellow by name of Robin."

His words were calm, controlled,
Speaking to me as if a friend of old.
Offering a passage across to river's end.
But I felt his words portend,
And a secret he did withhold.

He stood before me in the moon's glare.
And I saw not all was as it seemed; this Fey was not fair.
His visage may be that of Winter folk,
But the verse he sang, they no longer spoke,
And they certainly did not have kelp tangled in their hair!

Until his true intent could be discerned,
I would play along with his ruse, study what I learned.
"I thank you for the offer, river guide.
If you require payment, I shall abide."
His fiery eyes with curiosity and intrigue burned.

"If to cross with me is your desire, give me your sun's fire; lend me Winter's ire: Summer's Growth, and benefit us both."

A grin and my wits about me, I spoke,
And a battle of wisdom and words, I did invoke:
"Instead I have a counter offer:
Win, and my magic will forever fill your coffer;
All that you may handle; my word I shan't revoke."

"Cursed, Blessed, Winter, Summer, a game of which every Fey is fond: the illustrious allure of wordplay. Your stakes are set and your word is bond, speak, then, what riddle shall I tell today?"

"It is simple, which should come as no surprise,
To find victory, your hidden truth I will surmise.
In this game, I will speak openly,
And prove the falseness of your poetry.
Bu I assure you, it only is a challenge for the wise."

"A game without stakes is a riddle without clue. Let us see then who first denies, me or you; for I am ready to test your mind's value."

"I know you are not what you appear to be.
You are not among Winter's accursed Unseelie.
It is not in our nature to tell lies,
Despite your garb, you never claimed to be of Lara's spies.
This I'll prove ere you connect me to Summer's blessed Seelie."