A humble boy who spent his days in dirt with rusty tools

Then a pilgrim, then a slave, a friend of thieves, and fools

a pirate or a prisoner, a hero or a knight

a sorcerer, a dragon slayer, somewhere out of sight

A wanderer, a lonely mercenary with a sword

a husband and a father with an empire his reward

a stowaway upon a ship, an outlaw, rich and poor

all he’d won and lost behind him, every friend and war

Following his friend’s advice, he travelled fast by night

sleeping in the woods and staying safely out of sight

being careful not to spend too much time in one place

almost every town had wanted posters of his face

It took him many months of travel to escape his past

the influence of his old empire’s rise and fall was vast

he spent more time in forests as he travelled further on

hunting for the food he ate when all his stores were gone

One evening he grew tired while climbing up a grassy hill

and as he looked around he felt the winter’s icy chill

but when he stood atop the hill and saw no town in sight

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he couldn’t bring himself to walk another step that night

He didn’t understand why he began to gather wood

such a thing would never do a hero any good

but after several days had passed the shelter grew in size

a place he wished to live in had appeared before his eyes

He cut the biggest straightest trees he found and laid them down

and built a cabin finer than a home in any town

he realised he’d made himself some tools to work with stone

and in a patch of land he cleared, some seeds were sown

He never wondered why he couldn’t leave his little hill

whether he was there by choice or there against his will

his little garden gave him more than he could eat alone

slowly he forgot the hunger that he’d always known

A year then passed the humble pilgrim by without a fight

working through the day and sleeping almost every night

fixing up his little house to suit his every need

enemy of nothing but the average garden weed

Hunted game and berry bushes, rivers full of fish

the world around the settler granted every single wish

little time available for dwelling on the past

his every hour was occupied, by hobbies he’d amassed

Long ago he’d carved his son a little wooden mouse

he made another like it just to decorate his house

sewing curtains, metal working, polishing his tools

making pots and pans to cook with, tables, carts, and stools

Sometimes he would wonder where his wife and children live

hoping they’d remember him, if ever they’d forgive

he’d left them with a fortune for to buy a happy life

and it would be a sin to worry for so strong a wife

Even with his strength returning slowly day by day

his wife was probably much stronger than him anyway

his magic felt like something broken deep inside his soul

something that was twisted and would never more be whole

They were better off away from such a hopeless man

staying far away from him, would be the safer plan

and though his life without his wife and sons felt incomplete

the only way to keep them safe would be to never meet

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