The Little Lion's Song

Copyright © Alexander Khuramshin, also known as AshRaven (@ashraventales). All rights reserved. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental. Characters, names, and references belong to their respective copyright holders. This work is a creative interpretation and is intended for artistic purposes only. Gather 'round, good folk, and hear this tale, Of a lion small, with skin so pale. He drank, he laughed, and sharp was his tongue, But fate played tricks since he was young. Born of shadow, with mother lost, A father's love came at a cost. He learned to jest, to drink, to fight, For words were sharper than any knight. Raise your cups to the dwarf with a grin, Who fought with words and drowned in sin. He lived through fire, he lived through shame, And laughed while whispering death’s dark name. A girl he loved, with eyes like night, Promised him truth, swore love was right. But love's a ghost that fades with dawn, And left him broken and alone. Raise your cups to the dwarf with a grin, Who fought with words and drowned in sin. He lived through fire, he lived through shame, And laughed while whispering death’s dark name. Betrayed by love, betrayed by kin, His shadow grew cold, as hope grew thin. But one last shot, his vengeance sweet, Sent father down from the privy seat. Oh, the song they’ll sing, of the lion small, Who stood where giants dared not crawl. With wine and wit, he carved his path, And laughed as shadows crossed his path. Raise your cups to the dwarf with a grin, Who fought with words and drowned in sin. He lived through fire, he lived through shame, And laughed while whispering death’s dark name. So heed this tale of wit and strife, Of love and loss, and grasp of life. The lion's roar, though soft and sly, Will echo long after we die.