In a realm of myth
and magical might,
Lived Osagiel the elf
and Ubogrom the dwarf, a sight.
With hearts fierce
and minds locked in debate,
Their argument echoed through
the lands, early and late.
Osagiel, with grace,
wielded the bow,
A master archer,
his arrows in perfect flow.
His aim was true,
his shots never astray,
In the dance of battle,
enemies would sway.
Ubogrom, stout and strong,
favored the axe,
With each swing, he shattered
walls and attacks.
His strikes, mighty and relentless,
would cleave,
Leaving foes trembling,
no reprieve.
Both warriors proud,
their skills they’d tout,
Each proclaiming their weapon
without a doubt.
The elf praised precision,
the dwarf lauded might,
In this age-old dispute,
they found no respite.
Arguments echoed in
the elven glades,
And the dwarven halls,
where echoes cascades.
Osagiel would claim
the bow’s elegance supreme,
While Ubogrom swore
the axe’s power would redeem.
Yet as the ages wore on,
an epiphany bloomed,
Their stubbornness kept them
in an eternal fume.
For deep in their hearts,
they knew the truth,
Each weapon held value,
neither more, neither uncouth.
One fateful day,
under twilight’s soft light,
Osagiel and Ubogrom met
in solemn respite.
Their eyes met,
and an understanding grew,
In this clash of weapons,
friendship they’d renew.
No longer adversaries,
they saw the light,
That both bow and axe
had a purpose in their sight.
For the bow found its strength
in silence and range,
While the axe’s might
brought foes to change.
Together they stood,
weapons side by side,
In battle’s embrace,
their skills were unified.
With bow and axe,
they fought for a common cause,
Defending their lands
and enforcing nature’s laws.
So, let this tale
remind us all today,
That unity in purpose
can light the way.
No matter the weapon,
no matter the creed,
Strength lies in harmony,
fulfilling every need.