The man who walked like a mer - Folklore

There was once a man, a man who walked the path like all others

Yet once, he thought to himself, I shan't walk like my brothers

Their steps are clumsy, like a giant whose legs are sliced and bruised

So on a quest he embarked, to find the elegance that none could have refused

But before he could pack his bags and set out to seek what he claims

Haughty and slender foreigners came from the place that of which he aims

Walking with grace that none could match, these aliens enlightened all they touched

Stunned and envious of their beauty, legs of these strangers the man clutched.

He begged and implored and poured all his gold, just for the way that they could walk

Humored and annoyed by the bickering man, these outsiders finally began to talk

Teach you to walk and tutor you to run that we shall, but you must be loyal, like a dog

The man nodded akin to a pub, tears rolling down his cheeks, happy like a well-fed hog

Decades passed before the man's class was finished

He walks like the air, floats like wind, grace undiminished

So he did, taught the same to all folks in town

And in return, on his head, they put a crown

In the years that came, the strangers who entered the realm of man was gone

Some say they died, some say they left, some they changed but the truth was none

And so, these aliens that could have walked with unsurpassed grace is now disappeared

As such, a new issue, one that none saw coming, did volunteered

These men could walk like the aliens that came decades before

But now that the strangers are gone, their old steps were beginning to restore

They could walk like the air and dance like the wind one morning

Yet clogged and stumped and shook the ground in the adjoining

A mere fortnight passed before they had forgotten how to step

And began to crawl on the ground like a prey in spider's web

Though in the next thousand year they recovered and learned to walk again

These men walked in the way before they met the strangers that all did feign

And so, after the era that they tried hard to forget, they could only walk like all other man

Yet in their blood, they would always be proud and haughty like only the strangers can

Author's note: I have no idea to how rhyme, so, yeah, this is terrible. This is inspired by a post about the bretons lifespan and how they walk, it's a bit metaphorical, but you can think of it as a breton's creation myth. If you like to think of it that way, the strangers are Aldmers and the men are Bretons.