Stoneturned

Stoneturned

At night, in a forlorn valley a small light dances
Flickers, moves – all around it prances
But ‘tis no faerie light, no animal bizarre
‘Tis but a torch, not some earthen star

But who would walk in such a valley, deep at night?
What business would he have, what can be his plight?
Ah, to this, my friends, the answer is quite clear
The greatest wizard may walk all paths that others fear

On a stallion white-maned, an awe-inspiring beast
Rides an old man, in white vestments of an ancient priest
But a priest he is not – he’s Torundar the Old
Wisest of all men that this land holds

None can know how old he is, because none remember
To no cult or order he belongs – why should he be a member?
The most powerful of all, olden spells he knows
Infernos he can raise, for him the winds North wind blows

Yet all those years leave even on such great men a mark
Tired, weary Torundar is now – on his last journey he embarks
A great way he has come – but there’s a bit to go
“Soon, soon now I shall rest, through the lakes of life I row…”

A cave now lies before him, dark under the clouds
He dismounts, lets go his horse to the nightly shrouds
“Ye have served me well, loyal, truest friend
But, alas, in this last endeavor alone I must fend.”

The torch he blows out, extinguishes the flame
“I’ve no need for fire here – I go from where I came…”
Into the cave he goes, in darkness black as pitch
The corridors inside – he knows their every niche

For an hour wonders he inside, until a hall he reaches
Wherein stone statues lie, silent all, and speechless
“I am here! Torundar has come!
I shall join you swift, to weariness I now succumb…”

A flash of light, witnessed by no soul
A spell at work – its purpose sole
One more colossal statue in the hall now stands
Farewell, Torundar, fare well in brave new lands…