Original Poem: Gareth and Lynette

Gareth, the son of King Lot of Orkney and... (sources vary) mother, appears in various of the Arthur legends, earliest I've read is Thomas Malory, tho Gareth appears in a 12th century French story for the first official time. The theme of "fight an increasing boss set" is enduring, and is still the core of a lot of video games, and I've taken elements of various Gareth legends here and set them to a simplified form of Welsh poetic meter, the "Cywydd Llosgyrnog" which is a 6 line stanza, with an unlimited number of stanzas, the format of each is that lines 1, 2, 4 and 5 have 8 syllables, lines 3 and 6 have 7 syllables, and there is a rhyme structure of 1+2, 3+6, and 4+5. In traditional Cywydd Llosgyrnog, there is an internal rhyme in line 3 to lines 1 and 2, and in line 6 to lines 4 and 5. I have chosen to omit the internal rhyme in a poem of this length for my own sanity. 

Gavin Kent, AS LI

Of Bellicent and Lot, their son;

 was Gareth called who thus begun;

 won his manhood in their court. 

Dreamed he of valour fair and bold;

 in Arthur's hall where it was told;

 Knights of table round did sport. 

Tho begged he leave to venture there;

 a mother's loss was she to spare;

 Bellicent demands an oath. 

She wagered his pride was too vast;

 at common toil he would not last;

 never would he pledge his troth. 

But Gareth nodded his assent;

 of his desire he'd not repent;

 his mother's terms he’d allow. 

That in disguise should Gareth go;

 that he be noble none should know;

 thus Gareth pledged her his vow. 

On foot in simple clothes went he;

 to Camelot and there to be;

 cook at the kitchen’s fire. 

At feast of Pentecost he came;

 forbearing all to ask his name;

 sought two boons of his sire.

The first of them to grant that day;

 that he a Scullion knave should stay;

 Until the turn of the year. 

And then of Arthur he would seek;

 a second boon that he would speak;

 if that day the king would hear.

So toiled Gareth long and true;

 and weeks to months and seasons flew;

 until Pentecost returned. 

When that morn dawned there came a maid;

 before the throne for help she bade;

 for a champion she yearned.

To free her lands, a knight she sought;

 would Arthur send her Lancelot;

 to vanquish the Knight of Red?

Then forward Gareth strode to speak;

 though of the kitchens he did reek;

 to Arthur he bowed his head.

“Sire my year of service gone;

 my second boon is send me yon;

 a champion for this Dame. 

I would her quest to undertake;

 never flinch never to forsake;

 and thusly to earn my fame.”

With troubled nod Arthur's assent;

 that Gareth would indeed be sent;

 to aid the lady Lynette. 

Her cries of protest Arthur stopped;

 until Gareth should be oer’topped;

 his royal word it was set.

Tears of rage bedecked Snow White cheeks;

 that this, a man who stank of leeks;

 should mock her so in her plight. 

Her Raven hair she plated tight;

 and tarried only that one night;

 ‘ere coursing her shame in flight.

 At castles moat awaited her;

 a well-wrought knight who did not stir;

 his horse and trappings well-wrought.

But when her own mount drew him nigh;

 his visor raised and her green eye;

 spied the scullion’s face unsought.

“Begone ye fool who smells of smoke;

 serve thy betters, those honest folk;

 would that one of them would try.”

But Gareth sat his horse with pride;

 and said he would not turn aside;

 “where ridest thou, so ride I.”

So set forth Lynette on the road;

 never Gareth a glance bestowed;

 he followed where ‘ere she went.

 Until at dusk they came upon;

 astride a wide and stately lawn;

 a most fine and noble tent.

“In this pavilion does reside;

 a knight most fierce, pray turn aside;

 your death it would please me not.”

“Fair Lady, I have pledged my word;

Unto your cause my arm and sword;

Though with peril, it be fraught.”

Forth rode Gareth to havoc cry;

a knight purpure he stood hard by;

their lances swiftly broken.

On foot with blade the two men fought; 

by neither one was quarter sought; 

till at last yield was spoken.

The purple knight on bended knee; 

Cried “I will do as asked of me! 

Victory you have wrested.”

“To Arthur's court on your parole; 

and spare not telling every soul; 

by Gareth you were bested.

The night away to court did ride;

Lynette fair stood by Gareth's side; 

and thusly did she bespeak.

“Methought that when your sword was free; 

less kitchen stink did come from thee; 

but hark, now returns the reek.”

“Away with you, thou cleaver knight; 

for though you've managed here to fight; 

at this next test, you shall die.”

But Gareth sat his horse with pride; 

and said he would not turn aside; 

“where ridest thou, so ride I.”

By morning's light the two beheld; 

Amidst A clearing, newly felled; 

a knight whose mail was Azure.

Right tall and broad the foeman stood; 

his laughter shook the very wood; 

“Come lad, and test your measure!”

With lance and sword they met afield; 

to crashing blow would neither yield; 

their shields did bellow with steel.

Until, at last, the Azure knight; 

did kneel and crave to end the fight; 

bright Gareth heard his appeal.

“Get gone to Camelot villain; 

raise thee thy weapon not again; 

to any, save to protect.

And speak the tale for all to hear; 

before Gareth you knelt in fear; 

clear then you have my respect.”

Away he rode, and fair Lynette; 

bespoke Gareth “me thinkest yet; 

the onset of odor fades.

But pray, brave man now leave the quest; 

this final night is worst, and best; 

of not but evil is he made.”

And Gareth would have said to she; 

that where she rodest, so would he; 

when hoofbeats sounded hard by.

A knight approached with covered shield; 

and called upon Gareth to yield; 

but Gareth he answered “Fie!”

With Lance and shield did they contest; 

never a moment to breathe or rest; 

till the knight, Gareth knocked free.

Then sword to sword they battled hard;

to and fro there across the yard; 

untill Gareth bent his knee.

“I give my all, and am outdone;

In yielding now to such a one;

As you, I can find no shame.

Before you speak my doom, I would;

Know this of you, if you be good;

Pray, tell unto me your name.

Then doffed the knight his helm, and lo;

Brave Lancelot did stand there so;

And smiled upon fair Lynette.

“By three men living, from my steed;

Have seen me taken: rare indeed!

None with sword have beat me yet.”

“From Camelot this day I'm sent;

To seek the child of Bellisent;

And Orkney’s sovereign Lot.

And here I find him, hale and sound;

With his victories newly crowned;

All is not as we had thought.”

“A finer man you could not ask;

To lend his honour to your task;

But one action now is right.

He took his sword and touched he then;

The shoulders of Gareth, and when;

Was done, he arose a knight.

Lynette did look upon her peer;

She thought upon his plight in fear;

for Gareth would he stay by.

Her side to seek the knight of red; 

but Gareth kissed her hand and said;

“where ridest thou, so ride I.”

When next there came the break of day;

The bones of those this fiend did slay;

Lay strewn about the rough plain.

Called Gareth “villain, come ye out!”

The rooks he riled with his shout;

The sky did turn dray with rain.

Then from a cave the red knight strode;

No mount would bear his ghastly load;

Nearly seven feet his height.

His sword was long, his reach was vast;

Despite his bulk was lithe and fast;

Gareth quailed before his might.

They met with sparks on sodden ground;

Like crashing rocks, the mighty sound;

Of sword and of shield and mail.

They sought each other in the mud;

Of rain and earth of flesh and blood;

The mists wrapped them like a veil.

Three fourths the hour saw their clash; 

and then within the mists, a flash;

Of steel, Lynette held her breath.

From out the rain came Gareth, whole;

Lynette's cry rang out like a toll;

Of joy, she had feared his death.

His sword was rent, his shield in twain;

The red knight would not rise again;

Lynette's lands were free once more.

“How comes the smell of leeks, lady?

Is there aught else you'd ask of me?”

A smile, grim, Gareth wore.

“My Lord, methinks thou smell as sweet;

As springtime morning, and is meet;

That I should offer you praise.

My father's lands you have returned;

When I, your aid did scorn, and spurned;

Your valor, and knightly ways.

“My lady, fain I would you see;

In shame your head have bowed to me;

Nor hide your face from the sky.

I would you'd have me for your Lord;

My heart is thine, as is my sword;

Where ridest thou, so ride I.