Read on for some actual attempts at poetry.
It was the new moon that dawned as Owain sat
Wreathed in smoke by the fire of elders.
From he would spring the tree of strength
A line of heirs to continue the power and the tribe
From beginning to end and beloved of all men.
Bronze he had and bronze he gained through deeds too many
to be told
But bronze alone was not enough to maintain a kingdom.
The Dimwald breathed and drew in like night
Darkness crowded 'round the very land itself.
It was time for Owain to make the journey.
|The path to the Dunstanane. Also, the woods near where|
|The Dimwald, looking particularly dim.|
I dunno, I feel like there's loads going on with the sword and the woods and Owain and the Dimwald and the Giants and the children. There's acres of plot stuff there that would be perfect to explain the origin and the history of the claymore. I just haven't been able to tap that yet.
Maybe, maybe, it should be written as prose, a la Lord of the Rings?
I shall try that with Part 2.