Copyright 2013. PATG LLC. All rights reserved.

Chapter 9


Poepilandia cried and cried,

Her hair was torn, her eyes were wide,

She ripped her dress, and dug her nails

Into the table, cutting trails.

She wailed, and flailed, at everyone,

And shunned the moon, and cursed the sun,

And winter, rain, and seasons four,

For bringing brothers to her door.

Deep down inside, something changed,

A dulling ache, a sparking flame,

A realization, anger, rage,

A hidden beast, released from cage.

Inside her mind, a mourning monster,

Howled and vowed to save her sister.

It did not matter what the cost,

Even if her life was lost,

Or if the rescue was reliant,

On killing Bar and the Giant!

But despite her monster’s spurrage

She felt more fear, than she felt courage.

And as she thought of killing acts,

Her lips sneered back, and teeth all gnashed,

Upon each other, ground and bled,

Eyes wide open, whites shot red.

Her breaths drew in, pulled long and slow,

And rushed out short, in sharp blewn blows,

While her hands ran over hair,

Gazing with an empty stare.

Then she slammed her both fists down,

Upon her breasts and stood and frowned,

Again and again and again and again,

Pacing the room, in a circular train.

“Our Perlameen is still alive,”

Queen and Blacksmith soothed and cried.

“Its only been three days she’s gone,

And we’re still shocked at what went on!

We think its time to have a talk,

With this Gar Kamal-Kamock.

His mind is caught within a spell,

Which keeps him sleeping very well.

Now he is healed, all well and trim,

Now is the time to waken him.

The Queen will try his spell to break,

So we may make a plan to take.”

Quick they went and found Gar’s room,

Filled with his snoozing spell of gloom.

It had belonged to Perlameen,

And still remained whole and pristine,

With walls in pink and green and blue,

With yellow curtains, and window view.

And on the floor, stood stands and shelves,

With faerie pictures and of elves,

While a closet tightly closed,

Still held her shoes, and hats, and clothes.

Poepilandia stared at that,

Then looked away and slow turned back,

To face room’s middle where a bed,

Cotton white covered, stitched in red,

Held the body, limbs all locked,

Of senseless Gar Kamal-Kamok.

Leaning over the little bed,

Queen put her brow upon his head,

“This fiendish spell has complex weaves!”

She said, tight rolling up her sleeves,

“How he awoke the time before,

I cannot guess, for this is more

Than has been cast within my realm

Since I overtook its helm.

Beads of sweat ran down her breast,

And slicked her neck and stained her dress.

With straining forehead, arms and back,

She made the room light up from black,

While magic shone out from her hands,

And grew in pulsing, bulsing bands.

Then with pain her lips stretched back,

Teeth clenched down, eyes sharp as tacs,

“Arise!” she called, “Arise! Arise!

Throw off this spell! Open your eyes!

Arise and walk! Speak and talk!

Get up Gar Kamal Kamock!”

Gar’s head shook left, Gar’s head shook right,

He groaned and moaned and sat upright,

Then threw back down and twissed and hissed,

While all the while, Queen’s magic kissed,

His thrashing body head to toe.

So went the battle’s ebb and flow,

Until well past the witching hour,

When Queen exhausted fell back dour.

“Nothing more here can I do,

The spell is strong and deadly too.

We will have to wait and see,

If my magic set him free.”

Poepilandia looked at Gar.

She thought of him when fighting Bar,

Here in the cottage, and on the snows,

And kissed him gently on the nose.

The instant her lips touched his skin

Golden sparkles left Gar’s chin,

And floated down upon his clothes,

Past his knees, between his toes,

And covered his face in glitty lace,

Until room glowed in every space.

And then, to everyone’s surprise,

Gar sat up with open eyes.

“Oh where am I?” with hand on head,

He said aloud, a-stir in bed.

Gar scanned the face of Queen and Smith,

And then to Poepi gazed forthwith.

As their eyes met, there was a spark,

That burned, despite there in the dark,

The two had never spoke a word.

Something unsaid, something unheard.

Thereafter they all smiled together,

And hugged, and told Bar’s kinder brother,

How they saved him and he saved they,

How Perlameen was stole away,

How they did not know what to do,

For her rescue, but hoped he knew.

Gar stood awhile and held his head,

And wracking, sat back on the bed,

His face blood drained and white with fright,

As both his eyes dropped down their sight.

“To Giant’s dungeon’s Bar will take her,

Unless his riches can persuade her,

To be a princess of his lands,

And in her deeds act for his hands.

We can still rescue her from him,

But we must trail her, secret and grim,

To the Giant’s distant towers,

To destroy his source of power!”

The room went quiet after that.

Queen’s head hung, blacksmith spat,

While Poepilandia sat back slumped.

Her heart a-thump, her mind a-jump,

Her clamming brow a-bead with sweat,

Her courage fighting fear and threat.

“Travel to the giant’s fortress!”

Said the Blacksmith. “Curse this mess!

There just must be some other way,

But what it is I cannot say.”

The Queen said nothing, sitting grim,

Glaring at Gar and weighing him.

Why would this Gar, go on this quest?

What motivation? What interest?

She mulled and mulled within her mind,

Did Gar and Bar both act in kind?

But nothing of it did she say,

Her face giving no thought away.

“I know a way to get inside,

The giant’s fortress, and where hides,

A secret to undo his power.”

Said young Gar, as the flower,

Of Poepi’s face now bloomed up bright.

The shadows crawled in from the night,

And down the lighted lamps burned low,

As snow fell past the froze window,

And pixies glowed in flit and fright.

“Alright!” said blacksmith, straining, tight,

“Start from the start, tell all of it,

Who are you, who is Bar, and the snit,

That long has made one twin brother,

Fight so deadly with the other.”

But Faerie Queen would not relent,

That all must first be sustenant,

Before they talked or thought of plans,

Of traveling to foreign lands.

And so they ate, and so they drank,

And stayed up late, with talk to thank,

Young Gar for saving all their lives,

While smiling Queen, with shining eyes,

Told tales of faeries and of elves,

And why they lived here by themselves,

And how it was and came to be,

She and her people graced the trees.

The hours raced and hurried past,

Until from plates and goblet glass,

All food was gone with appetites,

And upon Gar fell all their sights.

Sensing the mood within the din,

Gar stood up quiet, without a grin,

And pacing, let his tale begin.