The Ballad of a Young Hero A Tale by The Minstrel Gather close, good folk of valor, let your mugs of mead run dry, Of young Atreyu's mighty questing, a tale to make you cry! Born of tribes who ride the plains, with wisdom ancient, deep, A child whose destiny was woven while others still did sleep. The elders with their weathered faces, saw something in his gaze, A strength beyond his tender years, a light that set ablaze! When darkness swept across the land, and hope seemed all but gone, They placed upon his shoulders slight, a task to carry on. "Go forth," they said, "brave Atreyu, though merely just a youth, The Childlike Empress needs your heart, your courage, and your truth!" No sword was given, no mighty steed, just amulet of gold, To guide his path through perils vast, more than can be told! The Swamps of Sadness claimed his friend, oh hear my voice grow dim, The Nothing's void crept ever close, yet could not swallow him! Through mountain paths where giants dwell, past riddles ancient, deep, Atreyu pressed with steadfast heart, while others fell to sleep. The hunter G'mork with shadowed jaws, sought him with deadly aim, Yet cunning matched with courage true, put that beast to shame! For what is stronger than a child with purpose in his soul? When destiny has chosen him to make a broken world whole? Now listen well, for here's the truth that bards so rarely sing— The greatest strength in all the realms lies not in crown or ring, But in a heart that does not yield when shadows grow most long, In Atreyu's steadfast spirit, where heroes do belong! So raise your cups to Atreyu, the Plains Child brave and true, Whose journey saved a fading world and brought it forth anew! For legends start with single steps on paths we fear to tread, And courage blooms in unlikely souls when hope seems all but dead! Now, friends, a coin for this poor bard? These tales don't sing themselves! And should you dream of Fantasia tonight... remember, 'twas Atreyu who ensured you could.
