Baruk the Bearded

A concise telling of a circular tale

Baruk the Bearded

Beneath the shade of Durkhûn’s face,
among the lands of dwarven race,
the start of ‘venture born anew
began with good-intentioned chase.

Baruk the Bearded was his name.
Though strong in stature, peril came;
for in his heart, a dream was placed
to weave a tale of gold and fame.

Billowed sails the dwarf knew not,
so weary road on foot he sought
until upon the mountain framed
fortunes of fate, or so he thought.

Behind the high pass mountain’s bluff
lay doors to treasure sure enough,
but ‘top the riches, golden wrought,
he saw a creature scaled and tough.

Battle ‘tween guard and dwarf ensued.
Their blood was shed and fire spewed
‘till out the dragon’s flame he snuffed
and claimed the gold that he pursued.

Beholding now the gold so fair
heaped high within the cavern’s air,
he stood bewitched in solitude
by wealth to which none could compare.

But there within his problem lay,
so far from home, he could not take
this weight of wealth. Too much to bear
it in one load, there was no way.

Beset he was to now decide.
“To leave with only some,” he cried,
“would leave the rest of it at stake.
How could I leave such means behind?”

“Better off!” He sang and gleamed,
to live amidst his treasure’s sheen,
‘til years on years would pass him by
entrapped within the grip of greed.

Beastial in his form he grew
‘til gold transformed Baruk into
a writhing serpent, scaled and green,
the likeness of the wurm he slew.