And Then There Were Six

On the plains of Nasham Valley:

200 men gather today

The eighth of October, as bards will say. 

For what they do is not to play,

They do not wish to tarry,

They do not wish to tarry.

A defeatist battle is their doom,

Fairies, goblins, and trolls, against men.

They have not much to defend

But the right to make, break, and mend;

Their dwellings and their land,

Their dwellings and their land.

Now the battle has begun,

Swords and steel break against wing,

Men hunt down the monstrous things.

Fairies cry for blood and sing.

Pleasure is no more,

Pleasure is no more.

The men, it seems, are losing ground,

Their ranks fall to a hundred strong.

They fear no one will sing their song.

The fay beasts’ ranks are ever-long.

Howl like a hound,

Howl like a hound.

Trolls and goblins are in their midst.

With other men, they find no aid. 

Vision darkens and begins to fade. 

One by one, on ground they lay.

And then there were six,

And then there were six.

Once they were strong,

And then they were gone.