When those fellows, proud in their station and fools by the age, go for the hunt, only havoc can happen.
They began the hunt, with swords, spears and war-like wretches' gears, rumbling and lurking for the top of a hill.
Three were these, doth I know them:
Aion: the spear-minded man, fast in the struggle, instantaneous with thoughts, to fear was him even if he was with no weapon.
Nerissa, the fair one: the splendid sun over the salty sea couldn't beat her in beauty. Silent her footsteps, as silent was her dagger.
Glumo is the last: blessed by the god sea, cursed by he god wind (for an old occurrence in the time he was a kid), the most skilled living with every steel that man could create.
So they were, gazing at the dark gloomy sky, it was already deep night, the blades pointed into the ground, wounding the mother earth of soft wound.
Not too far, laid an honey pit, crowded by night bees: the bees of Dites. The three hunters, bored indeed, went on looking for the place whence the buzzing came: as they saw the golden sweet, they started blasting their weapons, forcing the furious crazy storm to bend back. They didn't knew however that the twisted-minded Nurg, the hedgehog-cat (ten feet tall, three feet wide, black eyes deep like Marian's pit) was right near them, ready to swine the soft skinned creatures. For the sake of the three Glumo was ready: as he heard the wild beast's growl, rapidly he moved, opposing the new enemy with fierce courage and a bulky devilish machine-gun, pulled out from whence, nobody could tell. Whilst the bullets reached the loathsome beast, Nerissa and Aion were fighting to get the honey prize: the first one shooting, the other one gathering with bottles and bowl-like things.
Doth they knew that the Nurg couldn't be held for long, either if by hammering fire was briefly blocked. Aion suddenly finished his job, exactly when a great moan rolled out of the creature's throat, born in its stomach: it was ready to charge. Not just fine for them. Quickly they ran through the woods, loudly their swearing crossed the sky, whilst they were stalked by the Nurg, furious with the guys. A deep fall they found, which ended in a clear mirror of cold water: the honey strict to their chest, the fancy band jumped down, hitting the water with a heavy sound. The icy water, sharp and evil enemy indeed, cut Nerissa's breath (she was not very used to the low temperatures in fact, she cometh from a very warm land) she sank down, few oxygen still in her lungs. Glumo and Aion were immediately set: first they threw the bottles on the sandy-coast ground, then Aion dashed down to grab Nerissa's belt with one hand, one leg safe in Glumo's strength. Once Glumo felt that Nerissa was taken, he pulled with all his nerve, his muscles stressed like a firing bow. He gained the coast, loudly breathing for the effort while the other two were coughing their entire water load, holding their throats.
The prize but great as much as the danger they escaped, the weapons all gone (the water corrupted them) but their reward was shining, safe in the morning lighted sand.
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I'd like to know what you think of it: it was written in a moment of boredom but i tried to re-create, as far as i could, the shakesperian way of making the prose. It's a brief story, maybe with a sequel coming.
