A village known to none except the ones who call it home

　　where humble yeoman farmers live in peace and seldom roam

　　even here, away from news about the world around

　　often can the stories of adventure still be found

　　Children who had only known a life upon the farm

　　strangers to a single thing that meant to do them harm

　　every single one had swung a shovel as a sword

　　taking part in all the tales of magic they adored

　　In the end the child would leave behind what they had dreamed

　　learning that their life was more rewarding than it seemed

　　family and friends would tell these stories to the young

　　happy with their humble lives when every song was sung

　　This was true for all who lived this life except for one

　　there was a certain family who had a certain son

　　while his friends and brothers grew to love the lives they had

　　every moment of his peaceful life just made him sad

　　His home was always warm and he was never there alone

　　the fire was always warm within a humble hearth of stone

　　by the hearth he sometimes sat for hours to watch the flame

　　dreaming of the day he`d earn a righteous hero`s fame

　　The flickering of sparks and flames gave him a little peace

　　he saw within the flames a battle raging without cease

　　working in the quiet fields his little heart would ache

　　he was suited more for work where there were lives at stake

　　He wondered if a castle waited in a foreign land

　　but he could not defend it with the shovel in his hand

　　he dreamt of suits of armour while he wallowed in the dirt

　　cursing that he wore instead a muddy, woolen shirt

　　Stories were the common entertainment in a town

　　told to keep their spirits up or calm their children down

　　children always laughed and cheered when fairy tales were told

　　tales enjoyed by every living person young and old

　　But one boy brought those stories home and never let them go

　　everywhere he worked or played his tales would overflow

　　his family soon tired of how his stories wouldn`t end

　　they wondered if his broken view of life would ever mend

　　As he grew his brothers didn`t understand his pain

　　they hoped he`d change his mind as any child who would complain

　　but as the seasons came and went his passion only grew

　　his conversations always turned to stories that he knewIf you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it`s taken without the author`s consent. Report it.

　　He made his father angry, and he made his mother sad

　　how could a child with everything curse everything he had

　　how could a simple story of adventure told for fun

　　so distort the heart and mind of such a gentle son

　　"Can`t you see, you`re everything you need to be and more

　　when you sleep, why is it that you only dream of war

　　every day, there`s meaning in the life we`re living here

　　would you rather choose a fate of suffering, pain, and fear"

　　"Son of mine, please be a hero here where you belong

　　the magic that you seek is only ever found in song

　　and if you need to hear a song about the things you`ve done

　　we can sit around the fire tonight and write you one"

　　Winters came and went, and each felt longer than the last

　　the young boy felt as though a hundred years of work had passed

　　he swore that he could feel the magic carried by the breeze

　　and listened to the voices calling to him through the trees

　　Autumn in the small town where the boy had spent his years

　　was celebrated happily by family and peers

　　a small town filled with joy and song as amber currents flowed

　　but while they danced, a single boy looked sadly down road

　　"Little one, you`ll find enough adventure in this glass

　　silly boy, just sing with us and let your sorrows pass

　　you`ll come to find your answers to the questions of your life

　　are one day having for yourself a job, a drink, and wife"

　　Often he would run toward the outskirts of the town

　　singing by himself until his heart could settle down

　　he`d look out at the forest and saw monsters in the trees

　　giants, orcs, or demons, he could slay them all with ease

　　With sword in hand he chased the monsters, but he found no foes

　　his greatest battle ended when he tripped and broke his nose

　　everywhere he went reminded him that he was stuck

　　the worst foe he encountered was a fairly angry duck

　　His brothers and his sisters couldn`t mock his efforts though

　　swinging sticks around at some imaginary foe

　　the dreams he saw all day would turn to nightmares when he slept

　　they pitied him, but his was not a dream they could accept

　　A single path connected every home in one long line

　　and maybe to another town much farther back in time

　　so one day when a traveller came walking down the road

　　the boy was sure this was the revelation he was owed

　　The village wasn`t all too shaken by its sudden guest

　　the elders asked for tales of towns they knew of to the west

　　his stories filled the village up with curiosity

　　when he performed some magic, children shouted joyfully

　　He entertained with stories of the battles he had seen

　　of monsters, fae, and dragons, in the places he had been

　　the traveller was young but full of fairy tales and song

　　for one young boy it seemed as though a savior came along

　　To save him from the comfort of his humble family

　　to pluck him from a boring world and help to set him free

　　the traveller declined to let the young boy tag along

　　but the boy was stubborn and he`d follow before long

　　"Boy, of all the people that I`ve met along the way

　　kings and beggars, warriors and children out to play

　　truly now I say I`ve seen none luckier than you

　　keep your dreams, but it would be a shame if they came true"

　　The traveller enjoyed his stay but soon he ventured on

　　the boy was broken hearted when he learned his friend had gone

　　but while they may not meet again, the boy had been inspired

　　their meeting was the greatest motivation he`d acquired

　　He`d never heard a story told by someone who`d been there

　　his stories of adventure were a kind beyond compare

　　even though the traveller had left the boy behind

　　he left him with a stream of stories flowing through his mind

　　Winter settled in and while the restless boy had packed

　　his journey would provide him soon, with anything he lacked

　　so after one long day of work, his family in bed

　　he looked around his home and thought of what might lie ahead

　　A small fire slowly dying in the hearth beneath a pot

　　shone a little light upon the grave where he would rot

　　a single room of nothing more than wood and stone and straw

　　and rusty tools all made for prideless work were all he saw

　　And so he tied his blanket to his shoulders for a cloak

　　and crept away into the dark before his parents woke

　　the little knife tucked in his belt would keep him safe from harm

　　and if his strength should fail him he`d rely upon his charm

　　"I`ll walk the hero`s path alone and look ahead with pride

　　and soon I`ll be a hero celebrated far and wide

　　the next time that my family hears mention of my name

　　it may just be in songs about my power and my fame"

　　~