Embers Brew

I have already started to write 

Tales of dragons in moonlight – 

Experience is a battle of sacrifice. 

A tale of nightly fights, so with pain – 

And blood, the story starts with a buzz.

Atop a hill it sat - the power echoing – 

With walls of art, a deco sky 

A place of healing and warriors' eyes. 

Many sat looking, never making ties.

Countless say, "Its lessons are cruel 

To travel to it, you must be a fool." 

Yet onwards, many warriors went

just to take a peek –

Yet none come back - 

They die inside the keep. 

Then, one day, a traveler came – 

Needing meat, for a stew.

He traveled down the road, 

Picking up sticks and stones, 

Insisting it would brew. 

A farmer called him over –

So, with haste the traveler ran, 

Greeted the farmer with a smile 

Saying, “If you need help, I'm your man!” 

The farmer smiled back – 

Gently tipping his hat,

“I hear you need some meat. 

Well, I have a chicken egg, see?” 

“Oh please, oh, please” 

The traveler begged.

“Listen closely,” the farmer said, 

“Wait for this egg to hatch, 

Here, you can keep it warm in my hat.” 

The farmer started to go on –

Yet the traveler was distracted by a song. 

Had he heard this song before? 

He had to find it, that was sure – 

And added the egg to his kettle –

Knight E4 to G5, what sprang forth would surely test his mettle.

So, into the kettle - 

The egg it went 

With the rocks and sticks 

Yet it didn't break one bit.

If the traveler had looked down 

He would have been astounded - 

Not a scratch on it, top of rocks it sits, 

Turning red as it warmed its bed.

But the traveler was lost in song - 

Thanked the farmer as he skipped along. 

Humming the melody as he went - 

"A myth, a myth," grabbing more sticks.

The traveler continued down his path 

Sure it was a song forgotten in his past - 

He came along an old man - 

A solid cane in his hand.

The traveler smiled and waved, 

The old man lifted his cane, 

Told the traveler it was about to rain. 

The traveler looked to the sky -

Not a cloud had passed him by 

So, in a grateful reply 

"Thanks," he said - 

"I hope you stay dry" -

The old man nodded 

Then he lifted his cane - 

"I used to pick mushrooms in the rain" 

And kept walking back from where he came.

The traveler's eyes lit - 

Mushrooms, an egg, rocks, and sticks 

Surely something he could brew with 

So forward on the path he went.

Humming the tune as the egg twitched, 

"A myth, a myth," moving forward, fast and swift. 

He must have been walking longer than he thought. 

What way did he come from? He forgot -

He looked behind him to see his path 

Just a field of open grass - 

In front of him, corn and wheat, 

A metal still, perhaps something sweet.

He was aware of the sound 

Eerily quiet, unlike the town. 

Then, all at once, a bang - 

Then cloudless sky started to rain.

Yet he wasn't scared or frightened, so 

Many miles he'd traveled along the roads. 

He had walked in rain and mud - 

Once almost struck by a lightning bug.

So, he laughed and smiled 

"My legs are tired, I'll sit awhile." 

So, he took a few more steps - 

Set down his kettle next to the still.

Sat down and leaned - 

Against its metal build. 

He laughed a little more at his mess 

Then, closed his eyes and took a rest.

NG5 to E4, the kettle he never checked.

"This is the night" - 

The scruffy man said, 

"The old man has left his stead. 

I saw him walk to town" -

The other man jumped to his feet 

Shoving food in his mouth to eat 

He spoke - pieces flying around - 

"I need something to wash this down"

The bearded man didn't smile or laugh. 

Just shook his head as he pushed past 

"I tell you we should kill that old man" 

Take his still and his land.

The other man turned a little pale, 

"I'm not stupid enough to test the tale" 

The bearded man didn't even look 

"Yeah, a coward in my book"

So, the two men left 

It wouldn't be far 

Just down the hill 

Behind the grassy field

In the woods behind the still 

They took a few more steps - 

And saw the traveler where he slept. 

The bearded man didn't wait -

He kicked over the traveler 

And drew his gun 

"I'll kill now! This should be fun" 

The traveler awoke and said -

"Oh, please, oh, please 

Aim for the head 

I lost my way 

I'm already dead."

The second man, wicked pale, 

Wasn't ready to kill - 

"Leave him! We are here for the still" 

The bearded man mumbled back,

Then he reached for his flask, 

Kept an eye on the traveler 

As he opened the tab 

His hands shaky, ready to fight.

He dropped his flask 

Into the kettle that night 

The spout was open 

And the sweetness fell

Into the kettle, as well. 

The bearded man cursed 

Reached right in, grabbed his flask 

And filled it to the brim.

The second man had a larger bucket 

So he moved the kettle over to stuff it. 

He started to fill it to the brim 

Then somebody shot the two men.

NE4 to F6, checking around field.

The traveler shocked, looked around. 

A man there, the one walking to town! 

The old man walked slowly still 

One hand on his cane - 

The other holding his weapon.

He walked calmly to the mess 

Smiled and laughed - 

And picked up the flask, took a sip - 

And looked at the traveler he passed.

The traveler was lost for words 

And scared to the bone, this much is sure. 

He finally got the courage to speak 

"I swear I just rested my head to sleep,

Oh, please, oh, please 

Don't kill me - 

I was wet, tired, and lost. 

These men I've never come across"

The old man smiled and waved 

"I didn't get wet on my way. 

See, I took your advice 

Thought I'd go to town another night."

The traveler finally got to his feet, 

"What should we do with the bodies?" 

The old man took another sip from the flask 

"Too much work for you or me.

Just leave them for the wolves, 

They'll take care of them, you see." 

He offered the traveler the flask, 

"Would you like some tea?"

"Oh, no, that stuff is not for me!" 

The traveler replied - 

"Once I saw it kill a guy! 

I would rather brew my own still"

He grabbed his kettle - 

"I'll make my meal, 

I'll beg and plead, 

But no, that stuff is not for me!"

So, the old man drank down the flask 

Handed it over to the traveler he passed. 

"For when it's done," he smiled and laughed. 

The traveler thanked him, "I'll keep it safe."

Put the flask in his kettle to store away 

"I do have just one favor to ask. 

Do you know the way to the path?" 

The old man lifted his cane

"Think it's over that way" 

So, the traveler onward he went 

Kettle in hand, "A myth, a myth, 

I have an egg, rocks, and sticks."

He was whistling 

When he reached the path 

And wouldn't you know it 

A mushroom at last!

QF3 to F6, nothing to trade with.

The traveler bent over 

Picked it up - 

Added it to his kettle 

With all his stuff

Sticks, rocks, an egg 

And a mushroom at last! 

And of course, his empty flask 

But something else he didn't add 

Below the egg, the rocks and sticks

Sweet, and still it sat 

Warming up slowly, at that, 

The tea that fell from that night 

As the traveler walked towards the daylight -

The morning came at last 

Hungry and thirsty - 

The traveler walked down the path. 

He came along a traveling stand.