Once upon a starless moon

On which wolves howled and lovers swooned

There was a man, named Berrathan

Whose very name brought fear to man


It’s said, with whispers in the night

That Berrathan was scared of light

And so he fought with fire and sun

To make it dark for everyone


He devised a plan to make it black

To kill the sun with a mighty crack

And so he went to Mirkwood, dark

Fearing neither goblin nor barghest’s bark


With a chop of his axe, he felled a tree

And carved into pieces three

His plan began to take its form

While rain poured down, a mighty storm


A giant bow he made from the first

He looked up to the sky and cursed

“Your time is coming!” he yelled at the sky

And miles away, they heard his cry


The second, he fashioned a giant plate

The size of which was truly great

A giant arrow, he made from the third

He made up his mind, he would not be deterred


He grabbed the plate with one of his hands

And found a spot of open lands

To the arrow, he tied his chest

And decided that his course was best


He shot himself into the sky

And experienced what it was to fly

Towards the sun, for miles he flew

He grimly knew what he must do


He gripped the plate as he neared the sun

And hurled it, thinking the battle won

It covered the sun, and Berrathan smiled

And all went dark for a little while


But he threw too hard, the plate flew by

It flew past the sun, and he sadly cried, “Why?!”

It was obvious his plan had failed

Berrathan let out one final wail


It’s said that once in many a year

If you listen closely, you can hear

The sound of Berrathan’s final cry

Before he hung his head to die


The plate still comes back into sight

And makes the day into darkest night

The wolves howl, wind violently whips

This phenomenon they named, “eclipse”