Proud ye Cern. Unassuming lord of the forestland; coat of great silk fur; king ye are, antlers towering high. Wandering ’bout your physical manifestion, eating the berries and nuts of it.
No thought to ye why you are here at all; such is your peace in your place. No wandering star nor nightime bird seem out of place to ye. No beast of the wild to contest your place; ye are at peace.
Come the morn ye remember’d more clearly, a cry in the distance. Grazing here, mewing there, ye traversed ever northward toward it. Old Iliar did perch on y’er mighty antlers from time to time, an old friend come and say hello. And on ye’r journey did go, through the growth and the brushes.
For 7 whole Moonlights your journey did go, through the brushes and the snow. The voice it did get louder.
Then once ye came to a clear passage, a young man by the old wishin’ stone with the same voice you came to feel as your own; that young man you saw a Druid light; and did ye choose that noble fight. Antler angst hand, hove against foot; for a many Moonlight that struggle did last; until, great king, ye did fall, to the Druid’s might tho’ did ye give all.
Fashioned from you, a pelt of your skilk fur; for a chieftain’s head a mock of your antlers to adorn. Up he stood from under the old wishin’ stone and declared to the heavens “I be Emyck, the saviour of the Snowy Passage.” From your remains he made many provisions, more furs for his folk; knives from your bones; offerings of your entrails to the old wishin’ stone. Up from this consecrated ground he did make his departure. A full Moonlight to go; back to his kinfolk, to share his glory.
Back at his kinfolk, in the great mead hall, he declared with your fury, “I am Emeryk, I’ll bring glory to y’all; for I’ve slain the king of the Gods one and all. Now listen to me carefully, my uncle is rotten; although he has treat’d ye fairly so far, he is due to claim our land as his own. Now give me your mandate or the Snowy Passage is his; a great army will take your kin.”
The Chief of his kin did stand up and ‘nounce, “young brother, you are easily drunken by mead; we will never have problems with our kinfold to the East. They’ve been nothing but fairful in their givings and tribute; now go from us for we can much handle our mead. Let us rejoice in his harvest, which you’ve no right to receive.”
Outside of the mead hall while celebrations were high, four men joined Emeryk to discuss his proclamations. To them he gave your silk-like furs, your tender meats, the razor-sharp’d knives. By eating your unexpectedly great flesh, they felt a great wonder and energy, and inquired once more: “Fair and boastful Emeryck, what have you done, to bring such radiant meat and expertly shaven bone knives?” To them fair and boastful Emeryck did say “I did pray’d for 7 Moonlights by the old wishin’ stone; before me did stand Cern and we did engage, on that 7th Moonligth’th as the old legends say; we fought for three Moons and three more, until I won the great beast’s war. Behold, I am your Druid, follow me now into war, or your kinfolk will surely die by the Shillelagh or sword.”
And there was the story of you, Cern of the wood. Your glory, majesty, and power, you seflessly gave. Forever in the world you will give again and again.