This is one of the lost scenes I promised you. This scene was originally 
written as a flashback of Brian's in the first draft of Alterations and 
Revisions. It is the property of ME. "Death Be No Proud" is a kick-ass poem 
by John Donne, copyright 1628. Rudyard Kipling wrote "What of the hunting?". 
Its the standard somebody-is-dying song for the Wsmiths.


Setting: It is the year 1250 A.D., during the Lost Millenium. A  clamourous 
battle takes place in a barren alternate dimension.

     Night has fallen, and the battle has mometarily ceased as
the men in the back lines light torches and pass them to those in
front. Brian hurries through the lines of the wounded, tending
those he can. A familiar face catches his eye, and he sees Thogan
lying on pallet, blood pouring out of a wound on his side.
     Quickly they gather at the side of their fallen comrade. His
complexion is pale, his wound infected. He smiles weakly,
reciting.

          Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
          Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
          For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
          Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
          From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
          Much pleasure-- then, from thee much more must flow;
          And soonest our best men with thee do go,
          Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
          Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and
               desperate men,
          And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
          And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,
          And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then?
          One short sleep passed, we wake eternally,
          And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

     His voice got weaker and weaker. "Good bye, my friends.
Imani, do not let my words die. You must take the very lyrics you
sing."
     She nodded gravely. She recited the poetry that came to
mind. "What of the hunting, hunter bold?"
     Thogan nodded. "Brother, the watch was long and cold."
     Nyale swallowed hard. "What of the quarry ye went to kill?"
     "Brother, he crops in the jungle still."
     Mark's eyes were hard, holding back tears. "Where is the
power that made your pride?"
     Thogan answered, "Brother, it ebbs from my flank and side."
     Brian managed to open his mouth. "Where is the haste that ye
hurry by?"
     In a whisper, "Brother, I go to my lair to die." With that,
Thogan was gone.
     Mark closed his friend's eyes. "A peaceful journey, my
friend."
     Imani started to weep, and Brian took her into his arms. Her
tears littered his chest, but he felt none come from himself. He
was just totally numb, unable to feel much of anything.
     Nyale shook her head. "We danced where we were warned not
to, and we have paid."
     A shout came from the lines. "The enemy is vanquished!" A
cheering erupted from the warriors who dropped their weapons,
embracing each other.
     The leader, dressed in fine leather, came back. "We've won!
Praise be to God!" Then he saw the four, mourning the loss of
their comrade. "He was a good man." Then he left them.
     Imani wiped her eyes. "I'll do as he asked. From now on I am
the Wordsmith of Words."
     Brian nodded. "The battle is won, thanks to our help. It is
time for us to go." As the four walked away, he pondered the huge
hole that had appeared in his heart.



Please, no grammatical C&C. This is an excerpt from a dead story.

             Beky NeRichnead
    Grand Potentate of the Universe

Silence is the beginning of all things, the end of all things, and that 
which occurs between all things. - Wordsmith Music

Hotaru, remember that a Queen is not a President. A President does 'the will 
of the people'. A Queen does the good of the people. A Queen has the 
responsibility to make decisions for their subjects that those subjects 
would never agree with. - Queen Xalen Zalondon of Solaran



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