The Dancer

Love can be seen as the answer

But nobody bleeds for the dancer__ Ronnie James Dio, Heaven and Hell

Everyone from the most ravishing rogue to the mightiest knight was gathered for the feast. Over the food and merriment tolled the sound of exotic music waffing like far eastern spices. To the music danced a dancer her hips gyrating and her exposed midsection rolling like an evening tide in perfect harmony to the melody. A smile was fixed on her soft beautiful face. Her eyes were the blue sky, her hair the golden sun.

None was so fixated on the belly dancer as the barbarian who sat on his throne watching her intently. He took in every detail of her ample form, for she was nubile. Her floor length purple dress complimented her hips and her black top and purple vest revealed enough to tantalize but not too much.

She noticed him taking her in though he stared intently at the scimitar balanced on her head. "Do I please you, my liege?"

"Yes."

She continued her routine. Once it was over the chainmail and fur clad warrior invited her to the side of his throne. She sat down on a pillow with all the same grace of her dance.

She looked into the face of the warrior. "Have I danced my way into your heart?"

His countenance changed to one of bitter melancholy though the bitterness was not toward the beautiful woman.

"Nay, Sonja. It can never be."

"Why?"

"I'm a fighter not a lover. I'm must walk a solitary path."

Dessert was served then the blonde danced one last dance. The feast was over, the guests were gone. The barbaric warrior sat in silence in the fading glow of the candles.