Overheard in a Forest Glade

Hush, my baby, hush!
You must not cry!
Hush, my baby, hush!
The hunters are nearby.

Sleep, my darling, sleep!
Your mother’s gone away.
Sleep, my darling, sleep!
In the Greenwood we shall stay.

Shush, my baby, shush!
Your daddy wants you dead.
Shush, my baby, shush!
He’s asking for your head!

Hush, my sweeting, hush!
Be still but for a space.
Shush, my baby, shush!
’Til we find your mama’s race.

Peace, my jewel, peace!
They live here in the Green,
Peace, my jewel, peace!
And your Grand-mama’s their queen.

Rest, my baby, rest!
While Men war with the Elves,
Rest, my baby, rest!
And thereby destroy themselves.

Sleep, my darling, sleep!
Sleep, and do not dream,
Sleep, my darling, sleep!
While for your revenge I scheme.

There, my sweeting, there!
They search without success.
Just you rest, my darling one,
My little Elf Princess!

Iain Muir was born in London, and has since then dived in Mauritius, raced cars on dirt roads through African cane fields, been robbed in German pubs, and now resides in North Sydney. He drinks too much red wine, and spends too much on reading material. He plans on getting rich the old-fashioned way: by winning the lottery.

Find more by Iain Muir in the Author Index.

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