There once was a lonely traveler, worn and cold,
Who slowly stumbled past broken stones of old.
There, she spies three wanderers, rich but gritty,
On their way to a wedding in a distant city.
Bored and mischievious, our traveler steps to the side,
She nods her head and sends her good wishes to the bride.
Their wanderers knew not that their path was tragic,
as our traveler breathed in, and thought up some magic.
The wife bolted upright, and clutched her ribcage,
she felt no pain, but was instead filled with rage.
She rolled up her sleeves, and took off her fur,
neither bodygaurd nor husband could stop her.
She stormed off and our traveler could just overhear,
a distant shout: "You never should have come here!"
Our traveler was confused she sprinted over for a look,
The wife in a giant camp, just over the brook.
The husband shouted her back, but the wife just refused,
She pulled her arm back, the giant stood amused.
Her punch was feeble but the insult was clear,
The giant turn now, his club switched onto "space" gear.
And so closes my tale, I've worn it to the bone.
What happened to the wife? Well that's not quite known.
After searching and looking, a body there was none,
although tales come back of her flyin over Whiterun.
EDIT: Bit of a rustle up with the rhyming

Really!
