Narrative Fantasy poem

NTE_Killer4life

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Dec 17, 2015
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A narrative poem I have created almost a year ago for a grade, involving the poetry unit.

The tale of Belrim ireheart


Long ago, in the realm of Anthos lived an Ireheart.
Belrim was his name and he lacked strong wit.
His beard was long and his words as sour as a fruity tart.
His kin would ask him, “Why do you carry things in your beard!?” and he would reply with a mocking grin, “Nothing in my bag would fit!”
His pride of his clan could swallow an entire dragon!
He would shout and scream the name of his favored Dwarven god, “DUNGRIM!” before charging into battle.
Belrim never left home without an ale filled flagon.
After being the victor of many wars he would drink and dance but would end up asleep in the pen of the cattle.
Now, Belrim may never be sober or without a drink in hand.
But tell him his blacksmith is horrid and your bloody lips will kiss the land!
His courage represents all courage within the Dwarven race.
Every opponent fighting him can see it in his face.
His time is mostly spent fighting for his king against the human race.
Belrim hates them so, hates them more than an empty mug.
During the human and dwarf war his axe beheaded many of their kind, battle scars are often on his face.
After seeing many of his kin slain before him, his guilt of not being able to save them was hard to lug.
Along with his guilt in his heart crept loneliness and lack of love.
Belrim tried to drown the creeping loneliness with ale.
He mutters to himself in between sips, ‘Is this a punishment from the gods above?”
His head hit the hard table, his (alliteration) cheeks stained with tears, his pursuit for love cannot fail.
He looks around when he finally awakes and he spots but a pretty fair cave dwarf lass.
Belrim staggers over and lets out a hearty but flirtatious, “‘ey there lass!” along with a powerful grin.
The cave dwarf woman’s dark green eyes examine the drunk dwarf, her grey lips mutter, “Go away now, before I hit you with my glass.”
She expected him to walk away, dealing with most dwarf men, the sight of dwarf women is quite rare. Her glare is nearly ice cold as she sipped her gin.
But Belrim sat for he is willing to take the chance, love at first sight he thought, as he reached for her hand.
Kinreth slaps his hand away, too used to this action, her fair face shows anger as she says, “Go away, you disgust me!”
Kinreth smiles inside but shows a stern look on her face, most dwarf men would go away at this shout but to her surprise a tear rolled down Belrim’s face, down his cheek which had a brand.
Belrim is embarrassed to show such emotion but as he goes to wipe it away Kinreth kisses his cheek, her soft voice calming him. “Did that sting like a bee?”
The two dwarves hold each other’s hands as they drink together, exchanging names.
Belrim and Kinreth later go to Belrim’s home, there they danced slowly to a music box.
Though, Kinreth is not used to this sort of game.
They fall asleep in each other’s arms, some may try to make fun of them, but the doors have locks.
Month’s pass, the two dwarves being together. But Belrim wants to be in the same clan as her.
It is dishonorable to leave the clan, but he wanted to marry her, more than anything in the realm.
Belrim informs his clan father and tells him he is leaving, but the other clansmen develops a hunt for his head, no Ireheart is to be with her.
Belrim is taken to the center of the city of Kal’Arkon and he is going to be executed for dishonoring the clan. The executioner moves towards Belrim ,with a clatter of his chain armor he removes Belrim’s helm.
Kinreth’s eyes spill their tears onto her face, she begs and begs, “Please don’t kill him, do not send him to his death!”
The clan father draws Belrim’s own sword as he approaches Belrim and mutters beneath his beard, “Any last words before I send you to the sky?”
Belrim takes a deep breath. “I ask that all of my belongings go to my one and only love, Kinreth.”
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The executioner gives the clan father a nod as he draws his sword, moving it to embed itself through Belrim’s skull, the weapon he used to slay many of his enemies, now defeating him with a terrible ‘slick’ sound. As the blood sprays onto the sword and ground, his love is knelt beside his lifeless body, mumbling sadly. “Gods…oh why?”
As the kin that didn’t want to hunt him dragged him to an altar they burned his body, calling him an honorable dwed as they mumble a prayer.
His brother sadly lit his body, Belrim flaming up in a perilous flare.
Kinreth cries softly as she sees her lover’s ashes being buried, visiting the tavern that they first met in.
But before her eyes she sees a smiling dwarf ghost and she knows who it is as she smiles softly, Belrim’s ghost, the one with the courage of a dragon but now he is without his ale filled flagon, giving off a grin.