The wise man's fear

Here’s a version with more rhyme and rhythm, fitting for an Irish traditional song: So begins the tale of Kvothe, they say, Now known as Kote, in a quiet way, An innkeeper’s life, so humble, so plain, But oh, the wild past that he hides with disdain. From a childhood spent in a traveling show, To a city where crime made the shadows grow, As a feral child, he learned to survive, Daring the school of magic to keep his soul alive. There are three things the wise man knows, The storming sea, when the tempest blows, A moonless night, where darkness crawls, And the gentle man's wrath, when justice calls. My name is Kvothe, and you’ve heard my name, I’ve stolen from kings, I’ve tasted flame, I burned down Trebon in the dead of night, Walked with Felurian and kept my mind right. I was cast from the school before most are let in, Yet I tread paths where the fearful won't begin. I’ve spoken to gods and loved women fair, Written songs that could fill the air with despair. "Words are pale shadows of names once known, With power enough to crack the stone. They can light fires in the minds of men, Bring tears to hearts that won't weep again. Seven words of love, ten of might, But a word's just a painting of firelight. A name is the blaze that sets the world alight." So goes the tale of Kvothe’s fame, You may have heard of his fearsome name.