The Legend of Andris the Gallant
Born on the Silver Peaks,
a boy with unfound talent.
Strong as an ox with an unbending spirit.
He became known as Andris the gallant.
He was not a normal Snow Elf,
for his hair was raven black.
Though his loyalty was unwavering
and he never turned his back.
He stormed the castle at Kona.
A child with strange Elven ears.
And bested the Knights of Cilbáen,
as a lad of fourteen years.
He traveled to the far east.
Deep into the lion’s den.
But as the beast looked in his eyes,
it was right to think again.
The half-blood Prince of Athol.
A child of a foreign King.
But as humble as his childhood,
and so the people sing.
As the boy got older,
the battlefield was his life.
Only when he felt accepted,
That he finally took a wife.
A man of great worth and honour.
He was Leuven’s most stoeic tree.
He stood tall against the darkness,
wherever the threat may be.
He fathered two fearsome sons.
They both impressive in how they fight.
All proud to wear the tunic,
as they inherited their father's might.
He fought for the Silver Peaks
Wielding blades with grace and balance
Those who dared to face him,
danced with the warrior, Andris the gallant.
As the violence struck at our walls,
and we beckoned a call for aid.
Andris stood alone and defiant
so the hope of innocence wouldn’t fade.
He held the fiends of darkness.
Until finally, they burst the gate.
As his boys rushed to their hometown.
But for Andris, an hour too late.
The Maester’s greatest warrior.
A blood-brother and loyal friend.
An asset until his dying breath.
In this battle where he met his end.
Amedeus reeled and Galiron drew his steel,
For their hearts would not be swayed.
As one hundred ride, all prepared to die,
Andris's sons entered the fray.
Now the oak had fallen,
and we are left to count the cost.
Only those that truly knew him
know the value of what was lost.
To all those who fell that fateful night,
such sacrifice ‘twas not in vain.
Their names we will keep where our heroes sleep,
as we count the monsters slain.
And so his legend will live on.
His saplings have taken root.
Long may run his killers
with the Galati boys in pursuit.
He died for the Silver Peaks,
as gentle as he was giant.
His deeds we will cherish forever,
as we remember, Andris the gallant.
Posted Dec 2, 2022, 2:55 PM UTC