Literature:ToySoldiers/Brooding

Raapthingi Itskoongathee — Toy Soldiers

—by Clyde P. Riddlesbrood

Yeethai walder staishlaw ga, tlande iskoon fashbaw thloolm, Oosenflaukh chaeg awde nal, tlande aahuhngtagaa raapthingi basheln, Aazraw saesh ga dema bashen aidoogren awtluh otlai baeyaa, Mauluhmpeed ese olsenraapaa kothai stoob nalee ga.	Beneath the wide sky where the autumn winds play, A boy knelt in soil, where his soldiers lay. From the box at his side, he cast them around, A scatter of warriors upon the dirt mound.
Wendesketleste oosenmelkeeyor Maudaegeed, Yelzos yuhneechaw, Oot chaeg mauyaindnaakee ga aagraagen awtluht otlai doo. “Felde raapthingi,” awkan bashen “aacheshlabroot aw rawf tluhl, Thoowen aw paashleh basheln, thoowen otlai induhtlooh.”	Disorder reigned first, a chaos untamed, Yet the boy, undeterred, would see it reframed. “For soldiers,” he said, “must stand in their line, Each in their station, each by design.”
Bashen eethaes ebri wendeskewen ga, Kadreehwik ga, draugeyeewen ga, Awlbramool ese khawshaw thleez aw droogfik ga, Raile de igen uhrawf ga, tichee kuhbaang aw ro, otlai ootshawkes yuhneeluhmpee e etzawg thoo.	He reached for the first, the Private, the least, A bearer of burdens, a cog in the beast. These men hold the line, with rifles in hand, The steadfast foundation of any command.
Otlai pledee onathal Kafaehwik ga, zaekat yuhneewizle drafee, Karawfwik skau staidradawen, skau raidradawen ai mauzabookhee. Okotawn ootaw staidradad ootawnawnat bashe aadar ga, Tlauspuh ooshotawn tho espuhzaw elzawlgaw uhgruhbel.	Next came the Corporal, a proven young blade, A rank for the brave, for the strong unafraid. Promoted for valor, they rally the mass, Ensuring the orders of leaders shall pass.
Shenga ayaakoshlabroot Kanodenwik ga, aulhlaes bashel Aelthel shlaizeelir ga ai aashlabroot otlai hae, Zrazroot raapthing oot daebuhyee maeploom, Bashe ootawnawer aeraile bae khlod, tlande aidraethen Yelzos.	Then rose the Sergeant, their guide, The keeper of discipline, standing with pride. Not merely a soldier, but mentor as well, They bind men to duty where chaos would dwell.
Kabodenwik ga ashlabroot otlai endzawgee, Thlob e shleekhee, ogrees eeplini basheln aukhlaitai. Zrege otsookh tlo khee, zro laum mauchedee, Ooskogratawn bashen eekarawfwiki ga otlai starekhthing tichee lais.	The Sergeant Major stood with command in his frame, A master of troops, his deeds earn acclaim. No battle too fierce, no task done in vain, He tempers the ranks like a smith at his flame.
Tlauspuh auhlaes aebashe eto stai ko, onathal Kayagwik, Awluhlaun drada, iltlooh eshoolee. Kluhm basheln aeram auhlaes thai fawth atraapitloohee, Ootawnelifneem aatla ga—ai ithet zratlai.	To lead them yet higher, the Lieutenant appeared, A thinker, a planner, both bold and revered. His task is to lead on the tactical field, To maneuver the forces—never to yield.
Otlai pledee onathal Kathagwik ga, elzawg e graf, Raapthing ee broshoorthing ai awthlob oyondsookh. Bashen auhlaes otlai kli, tichee espuhzawgaw ese starekh, Aulhlaes orduhriluh, ai uhdawtootawn eebenin ga.	The Captain came next, a commander of might, A warrior and scholar who masters the fight. He guides with precision, his orders like steel, A leader of companies, shaping the wheel.
Khauma bashen aashlabroot Kazagwik zaneepdae ga, Hal aw etruhnzel tleste awren wuhd. Bashen itlooh otlai staibrawdee, thlob e ootkluhfuh, Ooyowotawn oyatraapitlooh tichee elfwini melkeeyolir ga.	Above him stood now the Major, the wise, A voice in the fray where confusion can rise. He crafts the grand plans, a master of schemes, Balancing strategy with the Kings’ dreams.
Shenga Kadoruhfwik ga oo oshawkes aw gruhn, Goodaag e raile, e khlait ee staibrawd. Ailklaad e raapnada, roth yigrald ga, Auhlaes bashen aatla staibrawdee ga daebuh ogrees aadrikstad bashel.	The Colonel, last, took his place in the dirt, A general of men, of honor and worth. The arbiter of armies, the hand of the cause, He guides the great forces and earns their applause.
Otlai tona onathal kagoodaagwik ga, ai ezawg aakhograd, Seen e andgen grafee ee keete. Chee gruhn thai geetle basheln chee wisi aw loo basheln, Chaeg ga ashlabroot koma bashe, aulhlaes bashel yeema walder ga.	Then last came the General, commanding them all, A figure of vision, both mighty and small. With dirt on his fingers and dreams in his eyes, The boy stood above them, their guide ‘neath the skies.
“Leed aeram aulhlaes bashel,” awkan bashen ai ador, “Tlauspuh ookluhf oyotsookhoo e brawd bashel, tlauspuh ooshotawn eeyuhndzebir bashel. Aazraw yelzos aa daeg, aazraw shluhh aa induhtlooh, Shleekhee ga aeram raapnad leeld, kaeb bashel hlaud aeram leeld,”	"I am their leader," he said with a grin, "To plot their great battles, to see that they win. From chaos to order, from mess to design, These troops are my army, their fate now is mine.”
Karawfwik thoo hlaud edaegootawn, aazraw draugeyee aa draugeko, Aw daeg, ai aakesal aashlabroot bashe otlai hae. Hligi bashel otlai lookoo, maefae bashel ai aekhlaat, Atgen pa nayasked, hlawk elzawlg.	Each rank now aligned, from lowest to grand, In gleaming array, they proudly stand. Their buttons like stars, their colors ablaze, A sight to inspire, a commander’s gaze.
“Raapthingi ga,” awkan bashen, “hlaud nau skaupa ondsookh, Aashlabroot otlai naskogra ee daegee bashel, nau pa elstaeth ga. Felde yelzos oochaur asphlaazaekh, oot daeg oochaur graf, Daebuh tlah stainau aagraashlabroot aataw haudrith ga.”	“These soldiers,” he said, “now ready to fight, Stand firm in their order, prepared for the night. For chaos brings ruin, but order brings power, And a force well-prepared shall stand through the hour.”