The Invasion.

The men of honour lost, the kings knights, all are down, a band of evil mercenaries, a few miles from the town. Marching forever onward, the invaders climb the hill, but standing on it's crest is a man all dressed in steel. A hundred men on horse back, a thousand, walk the floor, one man stands defiant, last man, last chance, no more. The leader rides up-to him, laughing at his lonely foe, "You had better turn and run fool, my men wont even slow". The knight, in silence stood, awaiting for his enemy to arrive, though their desire was to kill him, but his spirit kept him alive. Now, not ten paces from him, a wall of men now stands, they can't believe the arrogance, of this stranger from these lands. He draws his sword, and drives it, deep into the ground, raises his head, and cries, the most unnerving, evil sound. His armour starts to change, to scales of red, blue and green, and from his now gaping mouth, a burst of fire is seen. The invaders turn and run, down the hill at a full pelt, they've seen their comrades fall, to the fire the dragon dealt. But the bushes in the valley, have now all come to life, ten thousand fairies, take to the air, turning to bees, they dive. From buried beneath the grass, up pops a hundred grisly trolls, each picks up and throws a soldier like a doll. Just one man made it back, to the ships harboured in the bay, he never spoke another word until his dying day. The invaders were a mighty force, no other army could withstand, but they made the gravest of mistakes, they invaded the fairyland. From the collection http://allpoetry.com/list/118-Down_in_the_Wooded_Valley. © on Apr 20 2002 11:24 AM PST, Andrew Hide   childrens • fantasy