The Ballad of Thorne Blackwyd and the Chair

Hear now the song of Blackwyd Thorne,

A thief by night, a rogue by morn;

No lock could bind, no guard could see,

What Thorne had sworn was his to free.

The Gnome-King wept, his treasure lost,

The Adze of Gods at dreadful cost;

A giant kept it, cruel and sly,

Beneath the cavern, ‘neath the sky.

“Go, Thorne,” quoth he, “and fetch it back,

No army stands, no spell, no pack;

But shadow’s prince may dare the feat,

Where crown and coin and hammer meet.”

So Thorne went forth with grin and jest,

He found the giant deep at rest;

Upon its chest he crept so near,

The beast’s great snores he need not fear.

A feather drawn from raven’s wing,

He touched the nose of slumbering king;

The sneeze!—a thunder shook the cave,

And from its grasp the Adze he gave.

Swift as the fox he snatched it clean,

And fled the lair as none had seen;

The Gnomes they feasted, raised the song,

And filled his purse a kingdom long.

But Thorne, he laughed and raised his brow,

“Your gems are fine, but hear me now:

A thief I’ve been, yet I would dare,

To sit, if briefly, in your chair.”

The Gnome-King roared, his beard shook free,

“Then sit, bold knave, and mock at me!”

So Thorne sat high with wicked grin,

And all the hall laughed loud within.

Yet when he rose, the jest was plain,

For gone were studs of platinum chain;

The cushion bare, the throne undone,

The thief had stolen more than one.

The Gnome-King laughed, the court did too,

“For thieves will steal what kings ne’er knew;

Not gold alone, nor gems, nor crown—

But pride itself they’ll wrestle down.”