The last word

It's an old tale this is, aye, an' perhaps it's one spoken before now. But that was then, and this is now, and it's long and longer since, if ever it was. So this is this, and here it stands - THE LAST WORD.

It's an old tale, an' I don't know if ye heard it a'fore. I heard it from my momma, an' she from hers. But we don't tell the men folk, not ever. They wouldn't believe...

Now, it's all citified. But once, this was new land. An' new people came, an' few alone, an' one, she was Adris-gnome. An' along of her came Kulak-dwarf, though no dwarf likes to say it. An' some say they was married, an' some say they weren't. But it was jus' then, an' it was jus' them, an' none cared.
Now Adris an' Kulak, they set 'emselves down by the river. An' they built a place, an' Kulak set to men stuff, which was mostly lyin' round an' drinkin'. An' Adris, she set to women stuff, which like any woman knows was mostly everythin' else. An' a woman knows much a girl don't, an' one is that men-folks, some of 'em, can be mean as Fyakki. An' Kulak, he was one as was, an' he was mean as mean. An' soon Adris knew Kulak's long arm, an' how to stay from reach. But ale makes long arms even longer, an' long nights Adris had wi' that Fyakki by, an' more tears than rain fell where they lay.
An the days, they was long, an' the nights, they was longer. Not a day wi'out Adris had more bruises, aye, an' a broken bone now an' again. An' not a night wi'out tears like bitter rain. Till a day came that was one too many. For Adris, it turned she she couldn't get childer, an' that made Kulak worse, an' he'd beat her near to dyin'. So die she decided to do. To the river she went, an' not to come back she was goin'.
So she walked, did Adris. She walked, an' her last walk it was to be by her heart's wish an' her spirit's promise. But some promises, they has hard keepin'. Because she saw it, did Adris - a thing upon the ground. It sparkled in the sun, a bright blade knife. So sparkly it was, she bent an' took it. An' it had writin', all curled an' clever, an' the word was-well, the word was Kulak. An' a fear came to Adris, an' she threw the knife to the river, where she set to throw her own self too. But she wasn;t where she wished to be, a place she'd watched no few suns set and all alone, for a moment maybe, smiled. So she walked, did Adris. she walked and walked - and there it was. There, all aparkled, all sat on the ground an' not in no river at all. An' she was a good gnome, just one who had come to die, so she left it lie, an' kept her walking. Till she came to the place she knew an' loved, an' the place she chose. An' rocks she gathered for her pockets. But as she put the first rock in her pocket, she found a thing. A thing no hand of hers had ever put there. An' all bright it sparkled in the sun, an' the blade sparkled, an' the word. An' the word - well, it was Kulak.
An' Adris, she walked home. For sometimes there comes a time when no matter what yer heart wishes or yer spirit seeks, that path isn;t there to find. She walked home, an' a thing there was tight in her hand. An' that night, she put the thing to Kulak's sleepin' throat, blade still sparkled in no sun that was shinin' in night's dark. But will as she might, no move could she make, an' cut could she cut. An' her tears fell, for she knew this path was not for her either. An' Kulak slept safe. An' Adris, she cast the aprkled thing from her window, as far as far she might. An' she took her to Kulak's bed, an' she knew her lot to bear.
But next mornin', Adris, she woke. She woke - but Kulak still slept. If sleep was gash where throat should be. an' if sleep was a pillow red an' bloody, an' a thing wi' no waking. And a knife was in his han' but no name it bore, an' that knife, it was his own.
So Adris, she took what she woke next to down to the river, an' she came back wi'out it. Then away she went, an' never she came back.
That Adris, she was the first. But not the last. For men are men an' ale is ale - an' no few women have walked to the river.
So if ever ye find ye a man, an' if he has a long arm, an' if it comes too much, an' if ye walk to the river, an' a thing ye see, an' it gleams in the sun - then have a care. For if ye read, an' if ye see, then that word ye see is the last word. An' the deed is done. But if ye leave it, then ye have made yer choice an' never will ye see it again.

It's an old tale, an' I don't know if ever ye heard it. I heard it from my momma, an' she from hers. We don't tell the men folk, not ever. They wouldn't believe...