Glorious Grace - Part Three of Three

Glorious Grace and the Gruesome Glamour (conclusion)


Her tiredness vanished like smoke in a breeze,
All aches and pains, doubts and fears went as well,
Grace felt she could do anything with ease,
And her head felt grand, as clear as a bell.

Ash came alongside and they turned to go,
But then, the Elf Queen said, ‘Grace, one last thing,
We tried to bewitch you three times, you know,
But you were wise and saw through everything.

So, you shall be rewarded with advice,
Three things you need to know, Grace, to succeed,
For this lore, you’ve already paid the price,
Glorious Grace, we beg of you, take heed.

To far Dom Daniel, The Black Citadel,
Oberon has taken your sister, Rose,
He rules all wicked Faeries, cruel and fell,
The Darklings, our fiendish eternal foes.

In The Chamber of Endless Slumber there,
Sweet baby Rose can be found, safe and well,
She will be fast asleep, without a care,
Say these words to wake her and break the spell:

Grace and Rose, sisters, together forever,
None can come between us, no one, ever,
This I promise – to get her forever,
Rose and Grace, always, together forever.
The Dark King, Grace, will try to capture you,
But if you speak his secret name, most true,
Amadán ní Tiarna, I command you,
Just once, he must do what you tell him to.

With cries of, ‘Good luck!’ and cheery farewells,
Grace and Ash and Argent left Tir Nan Og,
Westwards, they travelled, through pastures and dells,
A chill, unwelcome wind began to blow.

Argent galloped like a swift, rushing brook,
He never tired; and Ash ran alongside,
Dark crags came in sight, they had a grim look,
‘That is Shadowcrag Glen,’ said Grace’s guide.

‘A desolate and spooky place, indeed,’
Said Argent.  ‘And the haunt of wicked things,’
Grace felt no fear, not with her noble steed,
With him, her courage soared on mighty wings.

They passed under the shadow of those peaks,
The Golden Road wound upwards, it was steep,
Grace saw big, black-wingèd birds with frightful beaks,
Into her heart, some dread began to creep.

In those thick shadows, it was dark and cold,
They carried on and came upon a bridge,
And by the path, there lay a pile of gold,
Beyond, the road wound downwards past a ridge.
The stone bridge spanned a very deep abyss,
They came up to the edge and looked straight down,
It made Grace dizzy, that sheer precipice,
In despair, her courage started to drown.

Ash shook; her terror could not be disguised,
‘This bridge is guarded by a Troll, called Slate,’
She said, and Grace’s fears were realised,
‘His heart is black as night and filled with hate.’

There was a mighty roar that shook the rocks,
From underneath the bridge, it rumbled out,
‘I’ll eat you, from your crown down to your socks,
Unless you pay my toll, there is no doubt.’

‘What does he want?’  Grace whispered to her guide,
But Slate the Troll had hearing sharp as knives,
‘A piece of gold, to reach the other side,
For each of you, or else, pay with your lives!’

Grace panicked then; she had no gold pieces,
She said that she had none to pay the toll,
‘None at all?  No golden swords or fleeces?
Then it will be your bones,’ roared Slate the Troll.

From underneath the bridge, he sprang out then,
He was a truly terrifying sight,
As tall and broad as twenty full-grown men,
His eyes were red, his skin was black as night.
His mouth was full of fearsome, jagged teeth,
His claws were long as swords and twice as keen,
His horns were deadly; they could cause some grief,
He was the worst thing Grace had ever seen.

Brave Argent reared up, tossing his sharp horn,
It blazed with magic light; the huge Troll howled,
‘Get back into the hole where you were born,’
Cried Argent, but the vicious Troll just scowled.

‘I’ll break your bones and rend you, horn to hoof,
I’ll make your hide a rag to wipe my nose,
You think I won’t, wee horsie?  You want proof?
Come on!  You’ll stand no chance against my blows!’

Grace wailed – she did not want Argent to die,
‘Stop!’ she cried, then there was a loud rumble,
She saw a tiny tear in Slate’s great eye,
He seemed to shrink; his ugly face looked humble.

Then Grace remembered – she still had some food,
‘Slate, we’ve no gold, but I’ve some cookies here,
They’re not worth much at all, but they taste good,
And gold’s no good to eat, that much is clear.’

The Troll spoke in a small and modest voice,
‘Hard rocks and cold gold are not good to eat,
Rough grit and gravel’s an even worse choice,
And I get very sick when I eat meat.’
Grace took the cookies out of her red pack,
A few were gone, but most of them remained,
Slate drooled a bit and his big lips went SMACK!
The look on his vast face was rather pained.

Another rumble sounded from his belly,
He gobbled the cookies, packet and all,
And then broke wind – it was really smelly,
The stench struck Grace and nearly made her fall.

Slate grinned and that was chilling to behold,
Then disappeared under the bridge again,
‘What you have paid means more to me than gold,’
He said.  ‘Go on, you don’t have to remain.’

They crossed the bridge; the Troll stayed down below,
And wound their way down through Shadowcrag Glen,
They saw no other creature, friend or foe,
No monsters lurked in creepy lair or den.

They came out of the jagged mountains’ shade,
Sweet honeyed light warmed the chill from their bones,
The dread in Grace’s heart, though, did not fade,
They crossed a barren plain of broken stones.

Then Ash cried out and pointed at the sky,
Grace saw a speck; poor Ash began to quake,
‘Oh, Grace, we have to run or we will die,
It’s Nightwing Blackheart, the Fearsome Firedrake!’
As the shape approached, Grace saw its awesome size,
Ash gave a shriek and ran back down the road,
Grace could not quite believe her own two eyes,
With dark unholy fire, Nightwing’s eyes glowed.

He was immense, much bigger than a house,
His wings must have measured a mile across,
Compared to him, Argent was like a mouse,
Grace panicked, for she was quite at a loss.

Argent pawed at the ground with his front hoof,
Grace read his heart – that he would protect her,
And fight, though he could not win, horn and tooth,
For he loved Grace so much, he did not care.

But Grace did not want her proud steed to die,
He did not need to prove his love that way,
The Drake raced towards them across the sky,
They could not hide, so Grace began to pray.

Then she recalled her silver crucifix,
And the little rhyme her Grandma had taught,
To beat the Faeries with their own sly tricks,
Grace said it then; with fear, her voice was fraught:

By Holy Saint Patrick’s divine Trinity,
Don’t let the Wicked Ones this Seeker see,
Cloak me now with invisibility,
Don’t let those Bad Faeries capture me.
Grace watched herself and Argent start to fade,
They became insubstantial, just like ghosts,
She thanked Saint Patrick for his holy aid,
And the Lord and all his Angelic Hosts.

Nightwing Blackheart shrieked with mystified rage,
Denied of his prey, he kept flying East,
Grace waited then, for what seemed like an age,
Until she could no longer see the Beast.

The sky was clear and golden once again,
Then Argent stepped forward and the spell broke,
Grace and her steed reappeared on the plain,
They moved on and then a little voice spoke.

‘I’m sorry I ran, I was terrified,’
Grace could not see her but knew it was Ash,
‘The Monster’s gone,’ Grace said, poor Ash just cried,
‘He might come back and stomp us into mash!

I’m sorry, Grace, I wish I were stronger,
But I’m not like you; I’m not very brave,
So, I’ll stay like this, for a while longer,
Unseen, for that was just too close a shave.’

Grace forgave Ash for running off in fear,
‘If not for Rose, I would have done the same,
I nearly fainted when that Drake came near,
You are brave, Ash; there is no need for shame.’
A dark and spooky forest loomed ahead,
Ash reappeared and whispered, ‘Darkling Wood,’
Grace shivered at the name, her heart felt dread,
She knew it was a place that was no good.

They reached the edge of the wood and went in,
The air was stuffy, filled with nasty smells,
So pungent, they made poor Grace’s head spin,
As if she’d been bewitched by Faerie Spells.

The forest was dim and creepy and dank,
The ugly trees were leafless and black-boled,
They seemed to crowd the path, rank after rank,
The air filled with creaks; Grace’s blood went cold.

The trees seemed to whisper among themselves,
Grace peered at their trunks and she saw faces!
Gnarled and knotted, she knew they were not Elves,
With groans, the trees appeared to shift their places.

‘Gracie, Gracie,’ they seemed to sigh her name,
Grace felt like a spider crawled up her back,
She was scared, Argent and Ash were the same,
They jumped when there was an almighty CRACK!

Thick creepers and roots snaked onto the road,
But burst into flame as soon as they did,
To the grim trees, that acted as a goad,
Through the air, twisted vines and branches slid.
‘We have to escape!’  Grace wailed; Argent reared,
He galloped as swift as he could down the path,
The sinister Treemen sniggered and leered,
Grace and her friends could not escape their wrath.

Rough, twiggy fingers grabbed Grace by the hair,
Vines wrapped around her arms, her legs, her waist,
She was snatched away, up, into the air,
Grace shrieked with terror and her poor heart raced.

‘Release my Mistress now, malignant scum!’
Argent fought the Treemen with hooves and horn,
There were too many; he was overcome,
They bound and strung him up; he looked forlorn.

Ash ducked and dodged, for she was very fast,
Quick as she was, the Treemen were quicker,
They caught her, trussed her, made her squeal at last,
Nastily, the Treemen started to snicker.

At their helpless captives, they tugged and yanked,
Grace got Indian rope burns on each wrist,
With a gnarly branch, her bottom was spanked,
She would not let them hear her wail, but she hissed.

Argent and Ash were both beaten as well,
The Unicorn roared and the Dryad squealed,
The Treemen were so merciless and fell,
Their hatred engulfed Grace; her senses reeled.
Then they croaked a horribly spiteful song:
‘Sssilly little girl, sssought to sssave her sssisss,
Thought ssshe could beat our King, but ssshe thought wrong,
Ssshe tressspasssed, didn’t ssshe?  Sssilly little Misss.

We caught her, didn’t we, the little brat?
Oh, yesss, we did, and ssspanked her very hard,
But will ssshe learn her lessson after that?
We don’t think ssso; we blame it on that Bard.

He filled her head with nonsssenssse, didn’t he?
All Faerie Talesss and ssstupid little rhymesss,
To make her think ssshe wasss ssso ssspecial, sssee?
Ssshe won’t be when ssshe’sss ssspanked a few more timesss.

We’ll knock that sssilly ssstuff right out of her head,
Dissscipline’sss the thing, for wicked little girlsss,
Ssshe won’t be ssso big when ssshe’sss sssore and red,
And we’ve pulled out all of her little curlsss.’

With that, the Treemen pulled on Grace’s hair,
She thrashed and howled and tears sprang in her eyes,
The humiliation was hard to bear,
As the cruel Treemen sniggered at her cries.

‘Ssshe thinksss ssshe hasss it very hard indeed,
But when our friendsss come, ssshe’ll know otherwissse,
Ssshe’ll think usss gentle, when they make her bleed,
For clever little girlsss, our friendsss dessspissse.’
Grace heard shouts and laughter, beastly and mean,
A crowd of Goblins appeared in the trees,
Their eyes were yellow, their skin was puke green,
The way they glared made Grace’s poor heart seize.

Grace was helpless; she’d never been so scared,
There was no way out of the situation,
The goblins jeered and their sharp fangs were bared,
She moaned with despair and desperation.

Then Grace recalled – she’d seen Goblins before,
It seemed so long ago and far away,
In a flash, Grace remembered something more:
The rhyme that Sorrel had taught her to say:

In a clear voice, Grace recited the spell:
Sorrel, Sorrel, Sorrel, come to my aid,
For right now, things aren’t going very well,
Don’t be bitter; keep the promise you made.

As loud as thunder, there was a great BANG!
Brilliant light blazed, leaving a puff of smoke,
Sorrel stood on the road; Grace’s heart sang,
He looked about him and frowned, then he spoke:

‘Ominous Treemen and Goblins in packs,
I know exactly what is needed here:
Wayland the Wanderer’s Marvellous Axe,
Into your black, bitter hearts, I’ll strike fear!
Vile scum!  I’ll wipe the sneer off every face,
Fell-Fellow-Feller, come now to my aid!’
Sorrel clapped his hands and then winked at Grace,
He held an axe with a sharp, shining blade.

He tossed it up and it flew through the air,
The axe seemed to have a mind of its own,
It hacked the Treemen, stripped their branches bare,
Woodchips flew, the Treemen started to groan.

The axe was a deadly shimmering blur,
The vines that bound Grace and her friends were chopped,
They fell to the path; the axe blade went whirr,
It chopped and hacked and hewed and never stopped.

The Treemen were too slow to run away,
They could not beat the axe with sneaky tricks,
They groaned and moaned in quite wretched dismay,
As they were chopped into big piles of sticks.

The Goblins fled the fearsome axe with shrieks,
And then, when its work was finally done,
It froze in mid-air; Sorrel puffed out his cheeks,
The axe disappeared; the battle was won.

Then Sorrel smiled, ‘Grace, I have paid my debt,
So, I will leave you here and wish you luck,
Be brave, your Quest is far from over yet,
But you’ll succeed, Grace, if you have the pluck.’
Then Sorrel vanished, quick as he had come,
Grace and Ash and Argent stood up, amazed,
They felt a little shaken – dazed and numb,
Their terrible ordeal had left them fazed.

Their spectacular rescue had them in shock,
For, in their hearts, they truly had despaired,
Their confidence had taken quite a knock,
But still, they had escaped; they had been spared.

The horrible things the Treemen had said,
Hurt Grace much more than all their vicious spanks,
She could not stop them running through her head,
Not even when her friends gave her their thanks.

Her voice was small and meek and very mild,
‘Am I really a brat?’  she had to know,
Argent looked straight at her, ‘Oh, darling child,
You are my sunshine, you make my heart glow.’

‘He’s right, Grace,’ said Ash.  ‘You’re brave, good and true,
Those Treemen were malicious, hateful swine,
You should not let their jealous words hurt you,
For they could never hope to be so fine.

But that’s how bullies work, for they are weak,
The names they call others show jealousy,
Their envy’s heard in every word they speak,
They called you what they were, Grace, don’t you see?
They tried to put you down, make you feel small,
Because their hearts were tiny, shrivelled things,
But Grace, you’re bigger, taller than them all,
Your heart’s glorious, I love how it sings.’

Grace was so embarrassed; she blushed bright red,
But she felt very warm and fine inside,
She was so happy about what Ash said,
She smiled and laughed and hugged her Faerie Guide.

Grace mounted Argent and they carried on,
Quite soon, they left the gloom of Darkling Wood,
They saw a lake; its waters darkly shone,
A great cliff lay ahead of where they stood.

Grace looked up; it was very, very high,
At the top, there stood a crooked tower,
Her heart beat fast, her mouth was really dry,
Though far-off, she could sense its evil power.

It had to be the dread Black Citadel,
Its darkness was deeper than any night,
Its windows looked like eyes, severe and fell,
Its shadow filled her soul with anxious fright.

At the base of the cliff, there was a hole,
A cavern that gaped like a hungry maw,
Mighty Argent trembled like a small foal,
Grace gave a cry of fear at what she saw.
Bad Faeries came rushing out of the cave,
A horde of Darklings, awful to behold,
Grace longed to run away, but she was brave,
Rose needed her to persevere; be bold.

Thousands of Darklings gathered in a crowd,
Grace saw that each one had an ugly face,
They roared and hollered, coarse and very loud,
And said disgusting things to little Grace.

All of them were dire, with hearts filled with spite:
Boggarts and Ogres, Goblins and Bugbears,
Changelings and Dwarrow and Gargoyles and Wights,
Werewolves and Skaven, straight out of nightmares.

Black-wingèd Imps, Trolls, Hobgoblins and Fetch,
Giants, Gremlins, Kobolds, Wraiths, Liches, Afreet,
Each being there was an unpleasant wretch,
Of nastiness, these fiends had a surfeit.

Rakosha, Lamiae, Vampires and Djinn,
Skeletons, Zombies, Phantoms, Spectres, Ghouls,
Fire-breathing Dragyns with black, scaly skin,
The foul forces of the Dark King of Fools.

Wyverns and Manticores, Cockatricea,
Cruel, shrieking Harpies in garrulous gangs,
Basilisks, Nagae, Hydras, Chimerae,
They bristled with razor-sharp claws, horns and fangs.
Grace reached into her pack for her horseshoe,
Ash drew her dagger; Argent tossed his head,
The Darklings were many, the heroes too few,
Grace felt like she’d swallowed a lump of lead.

The Darklings roared and charged across the ground,
Argent cried out loud and leaped through the air,
He landed among them with that great bound,
Panicked, the Darklings scattered everywhere.

Ash darted among them, too quick to catch,
And many Darklings fell to her swift blade,
With Argent, the Monsters had met their match,
Grace hit them with cold iron and made them fade.

Each Darkling she struck was turned into smoke,
Argent’s horn and Ash’s dagger did the same,
So many fell, it made the others choke,
And onward, undaunted, the brave heroes came.

There were simply too many Darkling Folk,
They stumbled and got in each other’s way,
Their ranks were sundered and their files were broke,
They fell back and waited; some ran away.

Grace was thirsty; she drank some Lucozade,
Then offered some to Ash, who took a swig,
Ash gave a cry and dropped her shining blade,
And then she grew, till she was very big.
The Darkling Folk, Ash towered over all,
She was much larger than the tallest one,
Ash looked at Grace, so far below and small,
‘I’ll clear the way,’ she boomed.  ‘Prepare to run.’

Ash wreaked havoc then, squishing and stomping,
She cut through the Darklings like blades of grass,
They fell back from her furious romping,
Right through them, Argent was able to pass.

He stopped outside the cave, so deep and black,
Ash kept the Darklings too busy to see,
‘Grace,’ said Argent.  ‘You must climb off my back,
The Black Citadel is no place for me.

If I go inside, I would surely die,
So wicked is the evil lurking there,
I will, if you ask me, Grace, I can try,
But I could not survive the Dark King’s lair.

The ghastly magic here would drain my soul,
So, please, don’t make me enter that vile place,
Poor Grace, you have to enter that black hole,
To rescue Rose, but I can’t help you, Grace.

My sweetest child, dear heart, this is farewell,
We shall not meet again, fair Grace, I fear,
I wish you luck and hope you break the spell,
My love will always be with you, my dear.’
What Argent was saying made Grace so sad,
She wanted to beg him to stay with her,
Grace knew though, if she did, it would be bad,
To ask that of Argent would not be fair.

Grace knew that she must make the sacrifice,
And not force her friend to give up his life,
Some company was just not worth that price,
Grace was upset, heart stricken with deep strife.

Reluctantly, Grace climbed down to the ground,
She wept and threw her arms round Argent’s neck,
Near fit to burst, her little heart did pound,
Grace felt she was an emotional wreck.

From her Unicorn’s gorgeous eyes, tears fell,
Grace loved him and hated to see him grieve,
‘The time we had was a sweet, precious spell,
I’ll remember you always, once you leave.’

Grace let go then and Argent tossed his mane,
‘I love you, Grace,’ he said, and turned away,
‘And that, dear heart, can never be in vain,’
He shouted and sprang back into the fray.

Grace watched him toss Darklings into the air,
While Ash squashed and mashed them beneath her feet,
Grace went into the cave and left them there,
Inside was dim and dank, devoid of heat.
At the back, a spiral stone staircase lay,
Grace looked up, but the top was out of sight,
Up and round and round, she wound her way,
She came to a passage lit by torchlight.

Shadows flickered on the rough walls of stone,
They seemed to whisper secrets as they danced,
Grace heard strange sounds that chilled her to the bone,
Creaks and groans and screams, while the shadows pranced.

Grace tucked her head down, she felt small indeed,
The passageway around her seemed to grow,
She worried where the murky way might lead,
The more she thought, the less she wanted to know.

At last, at long last, she came to a door,
It was enormous, made of solid slate,
Grace felt that she had been there once before,
She opened it and went to meet her fate.

The door slammed behind with a massive THUMP!
Grace stood in a chamber, perfectly round,
A high, drawn-out wail of pain made her jump,
But she could not see the source of that sound.

Grace moved across an empty, spooky space,
Her footsteps echoed on the stony floor,
She sought a way to leave that creepy place,
Then, just ahead, she saw another door.
As she came close, she saw two more again,
Three ways ahead, but which one should she take?
Grace scratched at her head and racked at her brain,
One way was true; the others must be fake.

Then, the doors opened with ominous creaks,
Grace looked through the left one and saw her Gran,
Grace felt like she had not seen her for weeks,
Her Gran smiled and waved and Grace nearly ran.

The door to the left showed a big bright space,
There was a cot; a baby sat inside,
Her sister, Rose, with a smile on her face,
Grace felt so much joy that she nearly cried.

The middle door was different from the rest:
A huge, three-headed hound, chained to the wall,
And then, it dawned on Grace: this was a test,
More Faerie Tricks, designed to make her fall.

Grace rolled her eyes and grabbed her Faerie Stone,
But nothing changed; the three rooms stayed the same,
Grace sat down on the floor and gave a moan,
It could not be real; it must be a game.

Rose should be fast asleep, Grace was not dumb,
She had been told that many times before,
Why would her Gran just wait there, and not come?
Perhaps the stone would not work any more.
But what if she chose wrong at this late hour?
The hound was fearsome; she would be eaten,
To fail, at this point, having come so far,
Grace refused to let herself be beaten.

She stood and walked towards the middle way,
The hound vanished, a granite door appeared,
She looked left; her Grandma had gone away,
There was a pit, a trap, as she had feared.

Behind the door to the right, Rose was gone,
Instead lay a room filled with roaring flame,
Grace opened the door ahead and went on,
Into a room like that from which she came.

An obsidian door lay straight ahead,
Grace hurried towards it, quick as she could,
She pulled up short; her heart was full of dread,
Then a voice rang out, insolent and crude.

‘Glorious, Glorious, Glorious Grace,
That’s a funny expression on your face,
Thought you were clever, that wasn’t the case,
Your little stone didn’t work in this place.’

A curious figure appeared just then,
Unsightly, with long skinny legs and arms,
He strutted about and clucked like a hen,
And then lectured Grace about Faerie Charms:
‘I’m Puck, some call me Robin Goodfellow,
I’ve other names, but two’s enough for you,
I’m seldom pleasant and never mellow,
But, unlike most Darklings, what I say is true.

Your stone was useless for that test, there,
It’s only good for Faerie Sorcery,
And you might complain and say it’s unfair,
Those spells were cast by a human, you see.

The malevolent Mephistopheles,
Who owed my Dark Lord a favour or two,
It’s my turn now, to test you, if you please,
But first, there’s something I must say to you.

You’re being watched, you have been all along,
Every single trial and tribulation,
It’s all been observed, the right and wrong,
Each moment of sorrow and jubilation.

You need to pass through this door to go on,
It can only be opened with a rhyme,
But you can’t make it – that would be a yawn,
What’s needed here is really quite sublime.

The rhyme is a spell; it has to start thus:
‘Open up, open up, let me in door,’
And this is the bit that might be a fuss,
From the Watcher’s heart, the words have to pour.
The mortal child, who’s being told this tale,
Is on your side, that much I have been told,
You must convince that child,, for if you fail,
You’ll stay here, in this room, until you’re old.’

Grace was shocked; she looked up at the ceiling,
For what she had been told was quite absurd,
Then she had a strange and certain feeling,
That, if she spoke, she would be clearly heard.

‘Hello?’  she said.  ‘Hello?  Is anybody there?
This is so odd; it doesn’t seem quite real,
Am I awake?  Does anybody care?
How could my Quest be no more than a tale?

What matters most is that I need your aid,
Please, help me, help me; help me rescue Rose,
For if you don’t then all my hope will fade,
This is the rhyme I need you to compose:

Open up, open up, let me in door,
____________________________________
____________________________________
____________________________________

Please, do this for me, please, I beg of you,
I think you’ll need to speak the words out loud,
And if this task is something you can do,
Then you would make me very glad and proud.’
Nervously, Grace waited for a while,
Then, Puck vanished and the door opened wide,
‘Oh, thank you, thank you,’ Grace said, with a smile,
She went to the doorway and looked inside.

The room was mirrored, walls, ceiling and floor,
In the centre lay a cot of black silk lace,
Baby Rose slept there, Grace heard a soft snore,
A peaceful look upon her tiny face.

A deep silence reigned; Grace quietly slipped in,
And, as she did, she heard a ringing bell,
Grace felt dizzy, her head began to spin,
Then she remembered the Faerie Queen’s spell:

‘Grace and Rose, sisters, together forever,
None can come between us, no one, ever,
This I promise – to get her forever,
Rose and Grace, always, together forever.’

Grace felt a warm rush of sisterly love,
Rose woke, she gurgled and happily laughed,
Grace gave a prayer of thanks to God above,
She picked Rose up, and then she felt a draught.

Grace turned to see that the doorway was blocked,
An atrocious being was standing there,
He looked right through Grace with cruel eyes that mocked,
A black crown sat amidst his spiky hair.
He walked into the room, into the light,
What Grace saw then made her cry out in fright,
He had four faces, such a shocking sight,
Grace backed away and clutched Rose very tight.

The Dark Lord spoke, his voice a dreadful croak:
‘Girl, I am the Lord of Dark Unreason,
Oberon, the Thane of all Darkling Folk,
The King With a Face for Every Season.

Get on your knees; beg for my forgiveness,
Or you will suffer a terrible fate,
I’ll make you endure great unpleasantness,
Do things, little girlie, that you will hate.’

The Dark Lord strode forward with awful smiles,
All four of his faces showed sharp, wicked teeth,
Grace wanted to turn, and run for miles and miles,
Terrified, she saw no hope of relief.

He reached out to grab at her with his claws,
Grace recalled his true name and shouted that,
‘Amadán ní Tiarna.’  There was a pause,
‘I command you.’  The King hissed like a cat.

His four faces howled and snarled, growled and wailed,
His sharp teeth snapped and gnashed, his red eyes glared,
Grace was frightened, her courage almost failed,
But he could not touch her; he stood and stared.
‘Mortal brat, you can command me one time,
Spit it out, I’ve no choice but to obey,
And believe me, you little piece of slime,
I’ll get you back and make you rue this day.’

Grace thought for a moment, very hard,
She knew she had just one chance to succeed,
She prayed before she played her only card:
‘Send Rose and me home; that is what we need.’

Grace and Rose faded, everything got hazy,
Vile Oberon laughed and held out his hand,
‘You think I’ll let you go?  Do I look crazy?
My powers only work within this land.’

For a horrible moment, all was black,
Then Grace saw: she stood at the Gateway Tor,
Suddenly, she heard a noise at her back,
A rending that chilled her right to her core.

She turned – like a curtain; the air was torn,
A great big jagged hole appeared right there,
Grace heard harsh laughter, cruel and full of scorn,
Oberon!  She turned and ran up the stair.

Behind, came shouts and howls and wails of glee,
Grace glanced back and saw the foul Darkling Horde,
‘You think you could escape so easily?’
Cried Oberon, their leader, then he roared.
Grace ran in through the door; the Darklings chased,
She did not look back; Grace had no wish to see,
Foul Oberon, vindictive and four-faced,
She ran and ran, determined to be free.

The narrow passage was very long and straight,
There were no chasms or rivers of blood,
Grace ran on, pursued by furious hate,
She wept tears of terror, a salty flood.

Then Grace felt cool fresh air upon her skin,
Just up ahead, she saw stars, shining bright,
She leaped, but then a hand clamped on her shin,
‘Come back,’ snarled Oberon.  ‘To endless night.’

Grace wailed and kicked, but could not get away,
She and Rose had been captured by their foe,
Then her Gran stepped into the passageway,
‘Amadán ní Tiarna; you let them go!’

The Lord of Darkness shrieked and stumbled back,
Gran grabbed Grace’s arm and pulled her outside,
The door in the hill slammed shut with a CRACK!
Grace stood still, amazed; her eyes open wide.

She could not believe her Quest was over,
She gazed at the bright moon, full in the sky,
She breathed in deep, sweet scents of grass and clover,
And then, Glorious Grace started to cry.
Her Grandma hugged her and baby Rose tight,
‘You’ve done it, Grace!’  she cried.  ‘You’ve done so well,
Your parents will be worried sick tonight,
Let’s get you home and break that Changeling’s spell.’

They headed home; Grandma took baby Rose,
Though Grace was exhausted, she had to talk,
She told her tale: the highs and the lows,
Grace was so tired that she could barely walk.

They arrived at the house with the sunrise,
To find that Mam and Dad were fast asleep,
Gran woke them and they voiced their great surprise,
‘Where have you been?’  Her Mam began to weep.

‘Why have you taken Rose out of her cot?’
Her Father asked, a frown upon his face,
Grace cried; she had been through an awful lot,
She should be happy, that was not the case.

And then her Grandma became very cross,
‘It’s not your fault you’re blind to what you see,
But Grace’s courage saved you from great loss,
To understand, get up and follow me.’

Grace’s parents arose with grouchy groans,
They left their room and went into Rose’s,
When the Changeling saw them, it uttered groans,
Mam and Dad saw what lay under their noses.
The glamour broke; the Changeling was revealed,
Mam and Dad were shocked like never before,
The Changeling shrieked; around the room, he reeled,
And with a wail, he ran right out the door.

Mammy took Rose and laid her down to sleep,
Then Mam and Dad and Gran tucked Grace in bed,
They prayed the Lord her little soul to keep,
Then hugged her tight and kissed her on the head.

Grace lay back then, she sighed and closed her eyes,
Then Gran began to tell her awesome story,
Her Mammy stroked her hair with tender sighs,
‘I love you, Grace,’ she said.  ‘My greatest glory.’

Grace drifted off into exquisite dreams,
Of Unicorns, Faeries and bright sunbeams.



THE END