deepundergroundpoetry.com
Until The Last Flower Dies
Hear me well, for I tell you a story, told to me by my father, to him by his father, and to his father by a selkie, or so they say.
In a time long ago there was a time before that, and in that time there was a great castle, a citadel of huge granite blocks, with ramparts and turrets that sparkled silver in the sunlight. Around the castle the fields stretched off into the horizons, the pine and fir forests hemmed in the lands, and the mountains bit at the horizon like the teeth of the earth. In the lands circling the keep, though, the ground was thick with flowers. Lush, red roses that blossomed and danced in the breeze grew all around - there was not a day that passed that the flowers did not grow, for this was a land of sun and sky.
In the keep there lived a princess, the fairest that ever was. She had skin like the softest silk, eyes like dark pools that a man could lose himself in, a curtain of dark hair that fell like night does across a midsummer sky. Aye, she was the most beautiful woman there has ever been, or so the selkie said. This princess though, no mere beauty. She matched beauty with brain; so sharp and clever was she that she would greet the animals in their own tongue and count the grains of sand in an hourglass, in the time you or I would think our name. She was a rare woman indeed.
This princess was beloved by all. From the far corners of the world, handsome knights would ride to see her, kneel at her feet as she walked through the city, declare themselves for her and seek her hand. She thanked them all, raised them to their feet and favoured each with a smile, these fair young men in their shining steel. But it is not of those that our story tells. Our story is of a knight of the wilds.
This knight did not wait for her as she walked the streets, did not prostrate himself and cry out loudly for her hand, her favour, her vows. This knight would climb the many stairs to her chambers, knock at her door, and he would quietly kneel, and in a voice rough and deep would say each time that he loved her - and ask only that she loved him back. He made no great claim of a grand wedding and a marriage of riches, but soft words, from his heart to hers.
Each time this knight climbed her stairs, the princess would unceremoniously turn him away, and each time she would give him a different reason.
When he climbed her stairs and knelt at her feet with nothing but his battered armour and axe, she said unto him "knight of the wilds, you are but a poor man and I am a princess. I could not love a man such as you." So, she turned him away. As he left, he looked back and her and told her: "I will come back to you, my princess. Until the last flower dies."
He went away and he toiled and strove, fighting for the king, riding without break or rest in search of gold - until again he climbed the stairs to the princess.
The princess looked at this knight, kneeling at her feet, and unto him she said "knight of the wilds, you have no learning. I could not love a man such as you." So, she turned him away. As he left, he looked back and told her: "I will come back to you, my princess. Until the last flower dies."
He left her and he rode to the centres of learning throughout the land. The knight of the wilds sought out the masters of lore arcane, the authors of every work imaginable, the composers of symphonies bitter and sweet. He studied for days and nights, months long he worked - until again he climbed the stairs to the princess.
The princess looked at the knight of the wilds, kneeling at her feet, and again she turned him away, telling him he had no lands, and she could not love a man such as him. Again he told her he would come back to her, until the last flower died.
Countless times he climbed the stairs, and countless times she sent him away. He was too scruffy, his was cloak too torn, his shoes were too bare. He had no title, had no crest. For each of those she turned him away and for each of those he sought and found, telling her each time: "I will come back to you, my princess. Until the last flower dies."
Every time he climbed those stairs, she would send him away. And yet...and yet...
As the days passed, the princess would spend longer and longer looking out towards the mountains on the horizon, waiting to see the lone rider cresting the hill. Waiting for the footsteps on the stairs, the knock on her door, the swish of his cloak as he knelt, waiting for her to open. She waited each time with bated breath, and each time she heard the knock she would smile wider and wider to herself before she opened the door.
At long last, one day, she heard those footsteps as he climbed the stairs, and she opened the door to see him kneeling as he always did. He told her of his love again, and as she looked at him she knew this would be the last time she sent him away, for no more excuse could she think of. She had no choice, she knew, but to admit to the feelings growing inside her. So knowing, she said unto him "Knight of the wilds, you have money now, knowledge, a crest and lands. And yet you have no glory, no fame - you have no great name. I cannot love such a man as you."
The knight drew himself up and nodded slowly to her. "My princess," he spoke, "I will ride to the ends of the earth itself and bring back glory and fame that will shame the stars. The very skies will echo with my name and deeds. I will return to you, my princess. Until the last flower dies."
With that, he rode out.
Time passed, which is what time is, what it does, and each day the princess would look out and wait for her knight to come back, for she loved him, that knight of the wilds. With love in her heart and hope in her eyes she would watch the horizon for the lone figure riding hard towards the keep.
Days passed, then weeks. Weeks became months, and months crept towards years. Still, he did not come.
Then, one day, the princess was looking out, and her heart jumped as she saw the rider crest the hill. Her hopes, though, were dashed as she saw the army follow behind, spears leveled and swords drawn.
The forces of Winter crashed down upon the mighty granite city, bringing the gales down from the mountains and stripping the leaves from every tree. Ice and snow blanketed the land, riming the stone with frost and turning each street slick and white. The flowers in the fields withered and died, crushed under Winter's heel.
The Winter soldiers marched into the city and smashed the frozen knights, hacking through the shining steel with their terrible frozen weapons. They broke the doors and threw open the locks, and they dragged the princess from her tower. In manacles of ice they held her, trapped in the freezing shell of the keep, waiting for the Cold Lord to take her as his bride, whether she would or no.
The dread King himself rode into the city, on his head a crown of ice like old bones, the arctic wind itself in his breath. Clouds blanketed the sky and blocked the sun at his passing. The princess screamed defiance as he walked towards her, the cold settling into her very bones as fear stole her breath.
In desperation, at the end of all things, she closed her eyes and screamed the name of the one man who swore he would return for her, yelling it out into the darkness. Her knight of the wilds.
Silence and stillness answered her frantic last hope.
Then he came.
The doors shattered to splinters at his passing, his cloak flowing from his shoulders as he strode through the maelstrom of wind and ice. He fell upon the winter men with the roar of a beast, the huge axe that had so often lain at her feet now tearing through the cold soldiers. He shattered shields and splintered spears, and the keen icy swords that had sheared through the shining plate of other knights skated off his battered steel, leaving only another scratch to mark their passing. Like thunder rips apart the sky he tore through them, the anger of the Wild both beautiful and terrible to behold. Ten men fell with each blow, the knight moving with the speed of lighting itself as he raged from foe to foe, hacking his way to the Cold Lord himself. The icy king raised his dread sword and swung, all the might of an avalanche in his blow - and all for naught. The knight's great axe turned the strike as were it a feather on the breeze, and the return swing cleaved the King clean in twain. The frozen crown toppled to the floor and shattered on the ground.
The knight of the wilds, all battered, bloody and scarred, tore the frozen cuffs from the princess, and took her in his arms.
With faint words, almost silent from lack of breath, she uttered in disbelief: "You came back to me."
His lips curled up in a soft smile "Aye, my princess. I came back to you, as I always said I would. Until the last flower dies, I am yours,"
Half crying, she gestured at the fields, all blanketed in ice. "The flowers are dead, my knight, crushed by the snow and frozen by the ice. How yet can you be mine?"
He laughed then, the sound ringing rich and strong through the frozen halls.
"Oh my princess...the last flower blooms strong." He took her hand in his, and held her close. "The last flower grows not in the fields, mo chridhe" he said, placing her hand on his chest. "The last flower grows within me, as strong today as it ever was. That flower will not wilt under the snow, and ice will not touch a single petal. That flower, my princess, is the love I bear for you, and the world has never seen its like before."
With that, the princess looked at her knight in wonder, knowing then that beyond a shadow of a doubt she was his as he was hers. Their eyes locked, and the spark that jumped between them burned hotter than the fire of the sun itself. Their lips met in an instant.
As they broke apart, the knight of the wilds knelt at her feet, as he had so many times before. Once again he told her of his love, and asked only if she loved him back. She smiled at him this time, and with her hands in his she raised him to his feet.
In a soft, soul-felt voice she answered him, her hands tangling in his hair as he pulled her close, and as their lips collided yet again, the words hung in the cold air.
"Until the last flower dies."
Published 15th Aug 2017
| Edited 5th Dec 2019
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Anonymous
- Edited 3rd Jun 2018 9:45pm
16th Aug 2017 5:38am
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