Affluent and noble by wedlock, by blood - widow'd to loneliness still From gloominess rural is sprung the desire at yule, for a renaissance thrill The Jaded Chatelaine's Christmas Delight Winter-white december night, frore the birch and fir At stony cold a courtyard tho' some and somethings stir Madam hath her men assembled urge and want to state Thro' crust and snow fresh rumours grow to investigate Widow Gyldenstierne: As well as a new suit to him who will ride I promise my best mount if yon he hath spied To come back and can tell if at 'Magle Stone' this eve there is mirth and much joy as hath been known Groom: I take on the challenge, betake me I shall there Saddle the steed, mine next when I ride, soignée, return'd from where... Those with home in the stone dance merrily to drums of thunder and a hundred fires Ogreish in guise and figure, eerie their sight Moribund yet with immortal magic might Widow Gyldenstierne: Ride over mere and meadow not roads but wood-edges, thou find their homestead Riding, Riding Hillock up, hillock down, those being small, hiding know not thou comest Hunting, Hunting Clap spurs to thy horse I advise Arrival at the Magle Stone Thus he rode thro' the night, the prize in his sight - obeying his mistress command The stone on pillars was raised when its owners he faced - obeying his mistress command Trolls: We are those with home in the stone, thou hast tread ground ye know we own Unless thou comest here to bother thou hast best feast as all other Groom: With good intentions only do I come to thee Horn Vessel and Crooked Pipe -From this our vessel then one tiff or twain have to the mountain, its king and his reign May be it crooked, mayhap without note yet here be a whistle, a tune blow if thou mote Enter: A Young Girl Young girl once abduct'd: I prithee to hesitate, pray ye haste mon frère I toast'd not but fled, could I so Ne'er returning to where... Those with home in the stone dance merrily to drums of thunder and a hundred fires Ogreish in guise and figure, eerie their sight Moribund yet with immortal magic might Young girl once abduct'd: Flee over field and furrow, not roads but plough-ridges head'd for homestead Riding, Riding Furrow up, furrow down, these be to small runnig None the less they're coming Hunting, Hunting Clap spurs to thy horse I advise Escape from the Magle-stone Thus he rode back that morn, with pipe and crooked horn - he stole on his mistress account Back home the drawbridge was raised thwarting owners that chased - whom stole on his mistress account Trolls: We are those with home in the stone, give us back that ye stole, we own Lest one loss shalt trade another, give us back and we shan't bother Widow Gyldenstierne: Nothing have we here for thee so go to hell! Trollmarch and Curse Ssshhhh!!! By the moore and moon - cautious, askance cast at sombre silhouettes a glance Robb'd of treasures, dignity and glee marching home pondering their decree May that artifacts shan't be return'd, mankind's lesson's never to be learn'd Yet before the moon hath risen thrice retaliation will have been doled out twice and right from wrong discern'd Deeds Done and Deserts Deserved Hence pass'd forty hours 'fore pass'd his horse away Well dress'd our groom fared well in his suit for the rest of his one more day