ChrisWard
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jun 17, 2005
- Posts
- 186
The wedding feast of King Ailill and the new Queen Maeve entered into the evening and, like the light, the sounds of revelry grew dim. Quiet conversations tiptoed through the great hall. Knights and ladies whispered with gentle leanings closer to each other, here a hand touched, there a cheek brushed. The grand ‘u’ shape of the feasting tables lost their symmetry as intimate groups formed at random. The amber glow from the wide hearth bathed the scene in warm, soft romance.
An unusual pair of bards strode majestically to the center of the room and sat on the prepared stools. Both held their sacred harps: she, Deirdre, a small tenor voiced lyre with golden ornamentation; he, Bron, a larger oaken instrument offset with epic motifs . At first they began to play in counter harmony : different tunes, beautiful in their own right, hauntingly weaving and embracing each other. Then, almost impercepively they evolved into the same tune. The deeper oaken instrument took the lead and Deirdre’s tenor harp danced round and accented Bron’s bold statements.
Her long white sleeves rippled with her wrist’s deft movements. The white, gossamer material covered the harpist in flowing layers. Her red hair cascaded like the smoky runs of notes she teased from her harp. His tall and thin frame, dressed in a dark perhaps black cape, swayed as he plucked out the sure tones, which anchored the air.
When the crowd was duly charmed and floated on the crest of the song. She spoke out clearly, cleanly, the singing harps gently drifting into background.
Deirdre:
In sadness came I hither, in sadness
Did I bring forth, and in sadness has your first feast day gone. And
As by sadness you came into the world, your name shall be called
Tristan; that is the child of sadness.
Bron:
The song of Tristan and the fair Iseult we sing. For in sadness is love born,
In sadness does it strive and in sadness does love die.
Bend fair knights as we sing. And, with melancholy touch your beloved;
Then, in sadness bare your willing hearts for love’s delicious wound.
************************************************************
Join Maid and myself as we travel through time and place in the retelling of an old tale now set in modern times.
Comments and critiques are welcome by PM.
An unusual pair of bards strode majestically to the center of the room and sat on the prepared stools. Both held their sacred harps: she, Deirdre, a small tenor voiced lyre with golden ornamentation; he, Bron, a larger oaken instrument offset with epic motifs . At first they began to play in counter harmony : different tunes, beautiful in their own right, hauntingly weaving and embracing each other. Then, almost impercepively they evolved into the same tune. The deeper oaken instrument took the lead and Deirdre’s tenor harp danced round and accented Bron’s bold statements.
Her long white sleeves rippled with her wrist’s deft movements. The white, gossamer material covered the harpist in flowing layers. Her red hair cascaded like the smoky runs of notes she teased from her harp. His tall and thin frame, dressed in a dark perhaps black cape, swayed as he plucked out the sure tones, which anchored the air.
When the crowd was duly charmed and floated on the crest of the song. She spoke out clearly, cleanly, the singing harps gently drifting into background.
Deirdre:
In sadness came I hither, in sadness
Did I bring forth, and in sadness has your first feast day gone. And
As by sadness you came into the world, your name shall be called
Tristan; that is the child of sadness.
Bron:
The song of Tristan and the fair Iseult we sing. For in sadness is love born,
In sadness does it strive and in sadness does love die.
Bend fair knights as we sing. And, with melancholy touch your beloved;
Then, in sadness bare your willing hearts for love’s delicious wound.
************************************************************
Join Maid and myself as we travel through time and place in the retelling of an old tale now set in modern times.
Comments and critiques are welcome by PM.
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