Bald Elf
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.
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