A
Colloquy of Crabs
Come
youth!
The
tide is turning, and we shall taste rare flesh.
Pick
we will at pipes and gristle.
The
sea has salted them, and soften'd on the bone.
Come
youth, and you shall eat your shellful.
To which the youth
enquired:
What
is this limb-strewn seabed Lost-Claw?
This
thoroughfare of hewn thews?
To
which Lost-Claw replied:
Battle
blazed here youth, Beast and Darkling strove
Upon
the silent sands, all to skein a knavesong.
Look
here. 'Tis Cervalas, stags' prince of silver'd tines.
Monarch
of the gloaming glen, now good for feasting.
O
how the hinds are mourning! He is fallen.
What
would you have? Which eye?
To
which the youth replied:
The
left, always, if there's choice.
What
thing is this? Ill-favoured I charge!
To
which Lost-Claw replied:
A
spriggan. Child-stealers, bloom-blighters. Sour types.
With
struck-oak club adept at cracking skulls.
Lovers
of lightning. A crackling lash their chieftain wields.
Try
a morsel, a meaty mouthful.... More yet?
To which the youth
replied:
More
Lost-Claw, more! Meat so supple!
To
which Lost-Claw declared:
Enough.
Fain
indulgence now would spare you later pleasures.
Scuttle
hither. See this duel-scarred blade?
'Tis
Finvarra's only. One of a kind.
To
which the youth enquired:
Who
is this Finvarra? He bore a honed terror.
To
which Lost-Claw replied:
Now?
A spread laid for scavengers. Slimy hagfish
twisting
through his innards. And headless to boot.
Then?
Captain of the Troop Unseelie. A terrible aelf.
A
kinsman of his king. Cruel o'erweening.
Look
for his head.
To
which the youth declared:
'Tis
here! A hefty haul away.
No
eyes. A broken ball. Fish-bitten lips.
How
untopped then? What tale could his carcass tell?
To
which Lost-Claw replied:
Read
with me this ragging stump and we'll reason his demise.
See
those scratches deep at 'neath the sunder'd neck.
I
know the storied claws that rent them, so too the violet scent.
Dobhar-Chรบ,
the otter king. A mirthy killing dealt he.
Always
laughing, laying to the fray, long striking.
Pelt
whiter than the White Queen's flank. War's lord
Of
the Waterdogs. Unbested. Awful. Savage.
To
which the youth enquired:
Aquainted
well you were then, with this paragon?
To
which Lost-Claw replied:
Aye,
I've nipped his toe a time or two. Saucy youth!
Ah
here's a hero's work.
Limbs
bereft of bodies, bodies lacking limbs.
To
which the youth exclaimed:
They
move!
Why
do they twitch? Could the tide be tugging them?
To
which Lost-Claw replied:
Knowless
youth thou! Twice dead they are, threshed and scatter'd.
Now
try this paled shred.
Taste,
do you, that necromantic nectar? O
Succulent
sludge!
Veins
a-clog with vivifying victuals, forsooth
'Pon
a dish of darkness dine we.
To
which the youth enquired:
Who
served it to us Lost-Claw?
Who
carved these jitter'd joints? A tang of Jack do I detect?
To
which Lost-Claw replied:
Clever
tasted! The tricksy lord of foxes trouble caused,
Brought
brutish war upon the Beastly Court.
Our
dragon queen descended, deigned to bid
Her
troop march out and take the dead to task.
Unliving
raised were they, and a rage of ruin faced.
So
here we find them; flopping fillets larder'd.
The
tide turns back, we'll tarry not, but first
I'll
cut this clouded bauble from its cave...
