But for the hammer

For the loss of a hammer, we lost a Realm. One small hammer, that my father bought for two bob. That he gave me as a leaving present That I treasured and took to the Realms. That came with me to Virgin’s Veil. To the fort in the pass. Where I was chief chippy and proud. One small hammer. That I was nailing together planks with. That Odd Henery borrowed to fix his barrow. That he ‘forgot’ to return when the caravan left. That meant I couldn’t fix the wood together. That meant I had to tie the last planks up. That meant the main gate was weak in the middle.

That meant when the caravan survivor ran back, Henery by himself, without my One small hammer. And we swung the gate to. It didn’t fit right. We had to brace it up. And when the Bound arrived. We had to hold it. And the soldiers shot and bled from the parapet. And would have held it too, that thin red line. But the swole one just walked through the fire. One big hammer, It swung, For breaking not making, And hit the gate where I’d tied it. The wood held. But the rope snapped. And the gate fell. And we ran. And the soldiers fought and died on the walls. And we ran. And we ran. And the last soldiers died on the road behind us. And we were the last through the Portal. For the loss of that hammer. We lost the Realm.