First draft, the Ark Regained.
Temple in silence
Fruit of Knight's penance
Blessed Light
Has cast away the fright,
Witch's curse dispelled.
Work in earnest on the rubble
Foremen yelling, workers grumble
Slowly the the grounds are cleared
Blessed relics, buried, despair.
Anguished cries and devout prayers
To the Lord's ear, they rise.
Our Ark, Lord Nadrik, our Ark.
Rubble cleared, granite revealed,
Impervious to sweat and toil,
But to fervent prayer and the Lord's Name,
Even the granite was put to shame,
A single crack, to exploit.
Mac'Kraken of the Mountain, his lore did lend,
dwarven spirits, earthen coal, and flame, said he,
" This crack will open, try it .. you will see. "
Supplies gathered, workers taught,
Work continued, the Knights remained fraught
What lay beyond, they wondred,
A Chapel restored? An Ark regained?
or dust.
On that eve, d'Aggravaine's twain,
with Sir Renetar, in the trenches train,
Sir Moraen held vigil.
Shuddering blast, thunderous roar,
rockfall in the Temple, workers injured sore
Sir Moraen, roused to tend
Call he did to the three away,
Their return swift, to the Keep.
Temple filled with dust unsettled,
More had crumbled, the granite was shorn.
Workers in the rubble midst,
aching bones and broken limbs,
Sir Moraen stood to heal.
Amidst the rubble, Lady Muse saw,
A glistening, shimmering, form,
Hope was a flicker, then a flame,
Brushing the dust, the shape revealed,
Our Ark .. Oh Lord .. Our Ark.
Disbelief and awe,
Was this true, what they saw?
The Ark .. so long lost .. regained??
What fickle eyes could not trust,
all was assured with a gentle touch.
Whispered voices, on bended knee,
The knights gave thanks,
" Oh Lord
What we couldst not win with sword
thou hath given to our hands. "