Consider the swordsman who slew the dragon and stole his hoard of beer.
He spent the night chugging it all down, and was happily plastered with
his victory. Right before dawn, a murderous minstrel sneaked into the
swordsman's chambers, and in his state could do nothing against the
blade that slit his throat.

Let us meditate upon the thieving swordsman who will meet his doom.


Eodh

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Estar, in the year 430 CE.