Little Yonnir of Bravil

The following text was extracted from a poetry tome catalogued in the Dominium's Index of Banished Writs. As such it might well be the last of its kind. The author claimed it to be based on a true story.

 

Son of Altmer mother,
Yawns with joy, lying still
Sleeps against bequeathed breast,
Little Yonnir of Bravil.

 

Sun is out for us to play,
Let us sing and spring and sway.
"Watch me mother", runs to the mill,
Little Yonnir of Bravil.

 

"Hold my hand, gaze at my face"
"I'm proud of you, little pup"
Toils against mother's disgrace,
Little Yonnir of Bravil.

 

Bed of cobble, coat of rain
Coughing out the remnants of childhood.
Cowers and awaits the day,
Little Yonnir of Bravil.

 

Within hunger, eating away
Golden pride lies now dun
You were lucky I found you that day,
Little Yonnir of Bravil.

 

Castaway from childish dream
Sleight of hand let's you survive,
Trying to remain unseen,
Little Yonnir of Bravil.

 

War is here,
They need your hands,
Rise up to your emperor's call,
Aegis of your land so bold,
You had nothing, they threw you a sword,
Little Yonnir of Bravil.

 

'Tis not your war,
You're a hound 'gainst thine brothers,
You're from nothing, but fear they take it,
Little Yonnir of Bravil.

 

Gold turns crimson
Life is rent,
When in war they need you most.
Stands now proud, in his war tent,
Captain Yonnir of Bravil.

 

Dusk is here,
And so they came.
In the field you are a flame,
Bleeding out, red heart, white-gold,
Little Yonnir of Bravil.

 

Son of Altmer mother,
Life escapes, dying still
Rots against earthen breast,
Little Yonnir of Bravil.

 

- Claff D' Ar