In this attempt at a humble lay, What happened truly I will relay. I'll tell you of a noble knight, and of a fae maiden bright.
In Brocéliande’s ancient, shadowed vale, There lived a Fae of lineage grand and hale. Fleur, a maiden fair with healing hands, Among the whispers of the forest lands.
Her father, Sir Alain, with sword and might, Guarded Brocéliande from dawn till night. A noble Warden, fierce as stormy seas, Who kept the peace beneath the ancient trees.
But Fleur, with heart attuned to nature’s art, Sought solace in the healing of the heart. With gentle touch, she mended wounds and strife, In harmony with woodland’s vibrant life.
Her father, though, desired a different fate, For Fleur to wed a knight of high estate. And thus, Sir Draco, of the House Malfoy, Was chosen as her husband, with much joy.
A union made for power and for pride, Yet secrets dark within his heart did hide. An artifact of Voldemort’s dark lore, He placed within the woods she so adored.
Time wove its tale, and Alain’s life did fade, A mystery that left Fleur’s heart dismayed. Sir Draco took the mantle of the land, Yet shadows dark were sown by his own hand.
One fateful day, the forest called alarm, An intruder breached its sacred charm. Sir Draco rode to meet this threat unknown, His fate entwined with Harry’s quest alone.
For Harry sought to end Voldemort’s reign, And tracked the dark artifact with pain. The forest shook with clash of steel and will, Till Draco’s blood did Northern Brocéliande fill.
With blade embedded deep in Draco’s brow, Sir Harry pressed, though wounds did lay him low. He found the cursed object, dark and grim, Destroyed it, though it nearly crippled him.
Fleur, sensing magic’s violent burst, Set forth to find the source of all accursed. She found Sir Harry, broken, near to death, And carried him with tender, healing breath. Within her castle’s walls, she tended care, Her heart conflicted by this fateful snare. His handsome face, his valiant quest of light, Awoke in Fleur emotions pure and bright.
Yet as she healed, a truth did come to light, The shard from Draco’s wound, a chilling sight. It fit the broken sword that Harry bore, Revealing he had slain her spouse of yore.
Her sister, with a mischief in her eye, Suggested that this knight, though once a foe, Could take the Warden’s role, and by and by, Become the guardian of woods they know.
Fleur’s heart was torn between grief and love, A choice to make, as stars aligned above. Could she forgive, and let her heart be free, Or bind it to the past and misery?
In twilight’s glow, she gazed upon his face, A knight of honor, fallen from the chase. With healing touch, she mended sword and soul, And chose a path where love could make her whole.
For in the forest deep where shadows play, A new Warden would rise to greet the day. With Fleur beside him, healing wounds of old, They’d guard Brocéliande with hearts of gold. Part 2: Beneath the moon’s soft, silvered light, Where forest shadows danced with night, In Brocéliande, the lovers stood, Bound by love, yet parted for the good.
Sir Harry, brave, with purpose stern, Must leave his love, to never return Until the dark lord met his end, And peace to all the lands could send.
Fleur’s heart was heavy, full of woe, To let him go, her dearest beau. Her eyes, like stars with tears alight, Gazed on the knight, her heart’s delight.
“Dear Harry, must you go so far, To chase this dark and deadly star? My heart will break with each long day That keeps you far and far away.”
He held her close, with tender care, Her golden hair, so soft and fair, And whispered low with voice sincere, “My love, I’ll vanquish every fear.
Yet to this quest I must be true, For darkened skies I must undo. But know this, Fleur, my heart is thine, Till stars no longer dare to shine.”
She sighed and then, with trembling hand, Removed a ring, with gold so grand. “Take this,” she said, “to guard your life, And bring you safely back, my knight.”
This ring of faerie, ancient made, With power strong, and spells arrayed, Shall keep you safe from harm and bane, Till you return to me again.”
He took the ring with solemn grace, And kissed her tears from sorrow’s trace. “I’ll keep this token close to me, And think of you where’er I be.”
Then Fleur, with voice so soft and low, Did make him vow before he’d go: “One year and day from this dark night, Return to me, my heart’s true knight.”
He swore it with a fervent heart, And vowed they’d never be apart. Then with a kiss, both sweet and long, He left to right the world’s great wrong.
As Harry rode into the night, His hand upon the ring so bright, Fleur watched until the dawn’s first ray, And prayed he’d return within the day.
For in that ring her heart was bound, Till he returned, safe and sound. And so she waited, year and day, For Harry’s love to light her way. Part 3: In lands where shadows grow and linger long, Where battles fierce and warriors strong Fight against the darkness deep and wild, Sir Harry wandered, lost and beguiled.
For Voldemort’s cruel grip did tighten so, And Harry, burdened, sought to overthrow The dark lord’s reign with sword and spell, In a world where hope and darkness dwell.
Through valleys grim and mountains high, He fought through fire, ‘neath stormy sky. His heart, once light with love’s pure glow, Now bore the scars of every foe.
The letters once sent with love’s sweet care, Grew scarce, as did his time to spare. The ring, though bright upon his hand, Began to fade as sands of time did strand.
And Fleur, in Brocéliande’s sacred wood, Waited, as all lovers would. Her heart ached with every passing day, As time swept Harry far away.
A year and day did slowly pass, But Harry did not come, alas. The woods grew still, her hopes turned dim, Her thoughts on Harry’s distant whim.
Did he yet live, or had he died? Or did he love another by his side? These questions gnawed at Fleur’s deep heart, Tearing her hopeful soul apart.
Her sister, Gabrielle, bold and bright, Set forth to seek the absent knight. Through lands of strife and war she roamed, Till she found where Harry had made his home.
In distant land, on battlefield so stark, She found him, weary, bearing every mark Of countless battles, trials he’d faced, Yet Fleur’s sweet memory he’d misplaced.
His eyes, once clear, were dim with pain, His heart still fought, but in a different strain. He’d lost the thread of time’s swift weave, Forgotten the love he once did cleave.
Gabrielle approached with sorrowed grace, Her words a lash, her voice an ace. “My sister, Fleur, in Brocéliande’s shade, Did wait for you as time did fade.
A year and day you vowed to keep, But now she weeps in shadows deep. The ring you wear, her heart it binds, But your silence cuts, and love unwinds. My sister entrusted her heart to you, With faith as strong, with love so true. But now that trust you’ve left behind, And broken the vow you made in kind.
She would have that ring returned this day, For your promise lies in disarray. And I must add, with heavy heart, Do not return, nor play the part.
For in Brocéliande, her love was pure, But you have left it insecure. Go forth and fight your final fight, But leave behind my sister’s light.”
Harry, stricken by her words so stern, Felt his heart within him burn. The ring upon his finger gleamed, A memory of the love he’d dreamed.
Yet now that dream lay torn and frayed, By his own hand, his own time delayed. With trembling hand, he gave it back, The ring that once held love’s bright track.
And as he watched her turn away, He felt the weight of each lost day. For love, once bright, was now a shade, In Brocéliande, where hope did fade. Part 4: In shadows deep where sorrow’s hand, Had led Sir Harry through the land, His mind was torn, his heart was wild, Once a knight, now fate’s lost child.
For Gabrielle’s words had struck him low, His spirit shattered, his grief did grow. He wandered far through forest and glen, A madman lost among mortal men.
His thoughts were dark, his soul in pain, His love for Fleur, a broken chain. He raged at life, at time’s cruel theft, Until no hope or joy was left.
Through nights of woe and days of strife, He battled demons of the mind and life. Yet from this storm, a fire was born, A burning rage, both fierce and torn.
No longer bound by knightly code, He sought revenge on a darker road. His quest for Voldemort became his all, He answered only to battle’s call.
In one fierce fight, where blood did rain, His fury knew no mortal reign. With sword in hand, he struck with wrath, And left a crimson, bloody path.
So fierce his fight, so deep his wound, That blood soaked through, his armor loomed In red so dark, it hid all trace, Of noble crest or shining face.
The surcoat once of colors bright, Was now the mark of a bloodied knight. No emblem shown, no name to bear, But blood and rage, his only care.
The people saw this ghostly sight, And whispered of the blood-stained knight. The Red Knight, they began to say, Who battles on, though light does sway.
His heart was cold, his purpose clear, To hunt the dark lord far and near. And in his path, none could stand, For in his grip was death’s own hand.
In time, he found his path aligned, With mercenaries, rough yet kind. The Red Company, they were called, And with them, Harry’s fate was walled.
Together they marched, a fearsome band, Through valleys dark, and cursed land. Their banner flew, a crimson hue, And with the Red Knight, their strength grew.
He led them forth with vengeful might, In every battle, a fearsome sight. No mercy shown, no quarter given, His soul by rage and sorrow driven. But in the darkness of his quest, A spark of hope still lay suppressed. For deep within, a memory stayed, Of love and light, though now decayed.
As Harry rode with the Red Company’s sway, His heart still sought another way. To find the lair where Voldemort hid, And end the curse, as destiny bid.
But all the while, beneath the blood and flame, The Red Knight bore a different name. For love had once his spirit healed, And that, in time, might yet be revealed.