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Sweet Frelytte the Fair
Hair the color of hay,
Like spun gold and honey
Bright sun at midday.
She loved a boy named Pular
And he loved her, too.
As fiercely as ice entombs lakes,
As surely as spring melts through.
Her mouth as red as snowberries,
His hands calloused and true.
He left to hunt an ice wraith, saying
"I'll become worthy of you."
After four nights of waiting,
Frelytte rode into the snow.
The mountains howled with darkness,
The moon sank ever so low.
But soon her horse grew tired,
The cold did lull her to sleep.
She curled up beneath a tree,
Until the storm buried her deep.
Pular returned triumphantly,
He'd killed the wraith as he foretold.
He stopped at the base of a tree,
Where he saw a tuft of gold.
He brushed away the snow, found her
Pale as cream and cold as death.
But Divines smiled on their love,
And when he kissed her she drew breath.
"I've slayed the beast," Pular proudly cried,
And Frelytte wept tears of joy.
Hand in hand, they ran home to marry,
Theirs was a love that winter could not destroy.