The Welsh Bard

[cgraven]

It had been many a long year sense I had left my home Liangillen by the Berwyn Mts. to cross the Irish Sea. Yes to Ireland to learn the art of the Bard. This no pale scribbler of words as the Norman has, nor the pretty feathered birds of the French with their delicate sonnets. But a lively man of action as adept with harp and verse to entertain, or with sharp tongue and sword to chastise and humble the Manor's Lord. Ours is an ancient role to keep alive our history and our Clan chieftains humble, so they can sever their people. I am a wander a weaver of word and verse to the harps sweet voice.

I have come home my father's house a charred ruin his men dispersed. Now a cold "Norman Keep"stands, their laws they enforced, with iron hand and pitiless heart. Gone is the joy of Llangillen the clansmen driven deep into the Berwyn Mts. I am no longer young my ginger hair touched with traces of sliver, yet I am strong of body and limb, and quick of mind. Yes I have come home to fight with wit and charm, and with arm and sword if need be to, write the wrongs, and take my vengeance. To pick their "Norman Roes" and cast them aside as they did my sister. This I David ap Gillen swear.

OOC: This is a thread of encounters between the Bard David ap Gillen and the Norman ladies. Each encounter will be limited, and reveal a different side of this Character. For established writers a chance to play a medieval maid, and for new writers a chance to work in a thread. If you are interested PM me with you character and the side of the Bard you would like to explore.

C G Raven

 

[cgraven]

The Keeps cold stony gates. It is a watchdog not a home, as I approach smell of oppression fills the air. This is the place of a "Master" who will not tolerate disobedience from my people, his kith n kin, or even from his dogs. He is shroud, his steward is Welsh Logan ap Laughflyn yet he dresses in the Norman way. How markedly these contrast with my simple kilt, doublet, and travelers cloak. My harp is upon my back, traveler's pouch by my side, Hunter's sword by my side, and traveler's staff to hand.

I have been given shelter for the night, the price some songs upon my harp. I sit by the open hearth and play the courtly ballads of their land, they are as bored as I. Then what took hold of me I no not but I struck the deep lively airs of "Men of Harwich" a tune of, my people of revolt, those the words I mouth are of mountains valleys and planes. I see the Lord's anger rise at the first notes then subsidizes my soothing words set in. I see he like this bold mixing and the strife it causes around his table. So then in such manner I passed the next few hours. As I take a break for mead and food Logan ap Laughflyn offers me a weeks stay from the Lord. I raise my goblet in salute as is their custom and acknowledgement. As he takes a struggling sever wench upon his knee. The anger boils in me, a clam rage to strike at him fills me, yet my face betrays nothing.

The last hour I devote to ballads of love and romance to woe them to their beds. The Lord has left quite some time ago with the tearful wench in tow.

It is late as I put away my harp and a shadow falls over me.

 

[jinnysub]

Claire

Claire I am, mistress of the manor.

There is a bitterness in David that speaks to me through his music. Words that do not match the tunes he plays, and a look in his eyes that speak a similar incongruence with those words. His music mirrors the lie that I live daily -- mistress of the manor, aye, loving wife of the lord and mother of John, Richard, and Eve, loving but unloved by my brutish lord and the sons that follow in his piggish footsteps.

Bitterness that overflows at times as I sit at the high table with the lord whose eyes are only for the serving wenches his chamberlain provide to serve him in all ways that I am no longer offered. Nor would accept.

Commonly I leave the hall to my husband and his louts as soon after the meal is served as is acceptable, yet this David keeps me here later than I have stayed in many months. The bitterness in his music feeds that bitterness that I so ably hide behind the smiling yet capable face of the "lady of the manor." Staying a bit later actually gives me a small opportunity to win an unseen battle with my husband -- my presence in some way disturbs his evening play, and he soon leaves. With his wench of the night, of course.

Then the bard's music changes, and songs that I have not heard in many years come from his harp and speak to my soul as well. Songs of love and romance that melted my young heart in the halls of my father, songs that I find still can speak to a heart that I thought closed to such feelings.

This evening, when I return to my bed, the pleasure I give myself, am forced to give myself if I wish any pleasure at all, will be less mechanical. Already I can feel the stirrings that often I must lie long abed, thinking of younger days, to find them rising in me. Stirrings that long ago were divorced from any thoughts of my husband, whose use for me has always been the getting of heirs and nothing more.

It is later than I thought as I see the bard put away his harp. His fingers, so gentle on the strings of that harp, are as gentle in its care. They caress the wood as he slips it into its calfskin case.

I walk over to David to thank him for his music, but really, to thank him for the pleasure that is still to come, pleasure that his music has released in me.

The words stop in my mouth, though, as I see his eyes. Deep, hazel, taunting, assessing my mood and caressing my body, yet eyes that are distant and unwilling to share his thought and mood with me. It has been too long since a man has stripped me with his eyes in such a manner.

 

[cgraven]

Her shadow fell over me as I closed the calf skin case, as I laid my harp lovingly aside. I could not tell if she be young or old as the fire blinded me. Yet by her bearing I knew she must be the Mistress of this Keep.

I sought her eyes and held them with my own, searching and probing into her soul. There I fond the lost dreams of a child bride. Dreams of the knight-errant, of battles fought over her, of Romance, of loves sweet embrace. Then I saw the reality of her life. A wedding night and her virginity ripped away by an uncaring brut to stratify his own lust with no thought of her needs, the laborious duty to provide heirs to his glory. The Raven harried girl her, daughter of her only love, her only transgression. The fear that the brute knew and would take "The Raven harried" beauty to his bed for spite. All this I saw in that moment.

I kissed the palm of her hand. And not waiting for her to speak asked;

"Is there some boon I can grant you My Lady"??." A private performance per chance?"

Her hand still rested in mine.

 

[jinnysub]

Claire

"A private performance? It has seemed that the entire evening was a performance for only me. Thank you, bard, for bringing something into this hall that has been sorely lacking for many years."

"A private performance? What other instrument might you have in your repertoire?"

"Milady, I have other means of making music, and am always ready to perform as one partner in a duet."

With a confidence borne of years of making every decision of consequence within the walls of the keep, a confidence rarely tapped on my own behalf, I find myself thinking of how a duet might be performed with minimal chance of exposure.

"I was on my way to the ladies' quarters, but you, of course, would not be permitted entrance there, I'm afraid. Also, I'm afraid your presence there would be occasion for a group ensemble rather than a neat duet."

"There is a private room, with wonderful acoustics, I'm told, just off the kitchens. During the day, it is the abode of the mistress of the kitchens, whose long hours of supervision mean that she must have a more private area for herself to nap at times during the day. If you would meet me there in a bit, I'm sure we can find a scrap of something to eat, maybe a small piece of meat that would be of interest to your palate. It may be that I could reacquaint myself with flute playing again, under your tutelage."

My head is spinning. It has been many years since I have attempted flirtation and I find that I have no time or inclination for a long drawn out period of catch-me-if-you-can.

I have few illusions about the bard. He will be gone in a week or so, and if I am going to have a chance to play a duet with him, it must be soon, and it must be clear to him what I want, what I need.

"Bard, I think you will find me a good duet partner, although quite unpracticed lately in the art of playing with a partner. The only practice I have had that has had any true outcome has been solo, although that practice has been quite extensive."

"I will be in the kitchens shortly. If you find yourself hungry, also, please bring your appetite as well as your instrument."

 

[cgraven]

Claire Me Lady what a beautiful name.

I listen to her desperate plea. For a "Retruuver D'affair". Claire of her frustrations as a soloist and the need to play a duet. She suggests a discreet meeting place, where her needs can be met. I have no illusions of undying love, or of a great passion born on night?s dark wings by silvery beam of moonlight

"Me Lady Claire my pleasure is to serve."......"I shall follow as you have indicated your wishes and needs"

This was not a time for subtleties but for bold speech and action. My gift to Claire the tender love and violent passion she longed for, and to Me "lord Brut" to cockle him under his own roof.

"Me Lady Claire" Left and I terrier a while to alive all suppression.

An hour had passed as I entered the chamber. Claire was pacing her resole wavering as I entered.

I placed a single finger upon her lips to still her words, yet unspoken. My lips then flew to hers, as I embraced her allowing no time for second thoughts. I slipped my dirk from its' sheath.Tthe razor edge severed her bodice lacings as our kiss deepen. I broke the Kiss my voice soft and seductive as I told her of her beauty and striped with trembling worshiping hands until she stood naked in the night.

 

[jinnysub]

Raw desire. No other explanation or description would be possible for the waves of tingling heat that coursed through my body at the touch of his finger, then the crush of his lips on mine.

I gasped at the touch of the knife, and it was all I could do to stop my knees from buckling at the touch of his cold knife at my bodice. My skirts melted from my body as if they followed the commands of those eyes...those hazel eyes that were all he needed to control ever fiber of my being.

Standing naked, I could see the effect that the sight of my body had on him. He knew that I was no young maid, and yet I felt compelled to demonstrate to him that I, too, was a person with desires to fulfill, desires that he should fulfill for me...with me...

I took the dagger from his hand, sliced the drawstring of his kilt, that drawstring..oh, so close to that which he would protect with his life but allowed me...trusted me...to care for as if it were my own...and watched as the kilt fell about his ankles. Drawing him to me by gently grasping the root of that which was so wonderfully outstanding, I slowly, teasingly drew him to the cot in the corner, and down upon me. Placing the tip of his beautiful member on the nub of my desire, holding it there and gently massaging it, and myself, I let go and willed him to bring me to the cliff of pleasure upon whose brink I lay. I let go completely...of all the strictures of my position in the household and of all the bitterness of the past years.

 

[cgraven]

My kilt lies upon the floor. Her eyes speak to me of her wild passion so long denied. The flush on her cheeks tell that she knows she is no longer a maiden.

Yet to my eyes she is again the child, as she led me by my root, the root of her desire. No bridal bed for us, but a simple cot, as simple and direct as her needs. I am upon her as she wishes. The tip of my root to the nub of her need. Claire's hand encourages, her eyes pleading, for a brief time of true passion unleashed.

My hazel eyes hold her deep pleading, lipped, pools; as my lips dip to the hollow of her neck. I with lips, tongue and teeth, I play a song of romance and passion upon Claire's form. She is the harp and I the bard. As they travel from neck to breast so firm, to nipple hardening so long ignored. Each a string plucked, in the rhythm old of passions sweet song. I play more airs as they travel across belly so flat and firm, a pause at her navel a brief interlude, no more. The downy mount of Venus's delight, to nuzzle and kiss for her delight. Softly I take her nub of desire with tongue and teeth. Two fingers enter to a hidden spot, of her secret delight. Old friends, to prepare the way, for another so rare to her. Slowly they withdraw as passion engulfs her. No rest I give, as my tongue replaces them, coaxing her onwards. Again I retreat.

I transfix her with gaze so tender.

"Now Claire?"..... "Shall it be now?"

 

[jinnysub]

Claire

Every fiber of my being wanted to cry out "Yes" to the bard's question, but years of denial of passion had left something else deep in me...the need to give pleasure as well as receive.

"Unnhh...no," I grunted, and slid from beneath him, pushing him onto his back on the tiny cot. "I'll play the flute first!"

I took him into my hands as I would a recorder, both hands lightly resting on the top of him, one thumb beneath. "I must warm the instrument first, else it squawk rather than give forth true notes." Lightly, I fingered him to an ancient tune of the area, one taught me as a child by the master of my father's stables.

I took him into my mouth then, gently, tasting the mingled juices of him and me that lay on the tip of him, swirling my tongue and flicking him, then hungrily engulfing as much as I could take into me.

As he began to writhe and groan, I, too, sat back and echoed his words of before.

"Now, Bard? Shall it be now?"

 

[cgraven]

"Unnhh...no," Claire grunted her voice choked with passion so long denied. She took my root and with unpracticed plaid it as her a flute. Her fingers danced in sensual rhythm as she mouthed my root. Warm the caress of lips and tongue, then ecstasy as she drew me into moist and warm delight. Unsure at first of the rhythm and rhyme, her confidence grew with my response. Now oaken hard Claire asked

"Now, Bard? Shall it be now?"

"Yes Child Bride it shall be now."

My words where soft and subtle as a picture of her I pained. Nay as she is now, but then as maiden young, and fair. I plucked a string as I entered into my Harp. Stroke for stroke with words so gentle I tell her of love and how she pleases. My root so oaken hard tenderly plays in her hidden places. My words upon her soul a canvas bear paint's the picture of my vision of her.

The overture now over, our duet builds to a crescendo together. How spent our tempo slackens to gentle strains as my lips meet hers in wondrous thanks.

 

[jinnysub]

Claire

It has been so long since someone has entered me whom I have welcomed as I do the Bard. It is as if our music is one, his thrust for my rising to meet him. His exit with my accompanying pressure on him to stay deep within me.

Our bodies rise and fall in unison, then in harmony, then in unison again... and again.

His lovemaking is like the waves on the shore. Every fourth thrust is deeper, higher, stronger, and my body finds itself rising to a peak, knowing that fourth beat will be divine.

I have never been so part of another human being. This, truly, is what is meant by "two becoming one." There is music in his soul that is infusing every inch of my body. My legs entwine him, and we are one, moving as one, feeling as one, pleasuring ourselves as one.

He reaches his peak first, and the feel of his member spasming, the mingled liquids flowing out of my body, bring me to my peak soon thereafter.

As he begins to pull away, my legs lock behind him, my sex grips him.

"Please. Stay with me. Stay in me. Be me. Please."

 

[cgraven]

The Bard

As I begin to pull away, her legs lock behind me, her sex grips me.

"Please. Stay with me. Stay in me. Be in me. Please."

I am a Bard trained in many arts and skills yet still only a man. Yet even, as the oaken root becomes a bending willow. My lips and tongue play a soft reframe upon her form, my harp of passion. From the Nape of Claire's neck where kisses linger, to the lobe of her ear where I gently nibble, and each brief interlude a string caressed. Now lips and tongue travel to the hollow of her neck, and to the pearl hard buds of her breasts, and the soft reframe continues.

Two fingers pluck the nub of Claire's desire, to bring forth stuttering joy once more.

Time has passed as Claire basks in passion and joy remembered, as she lies sleeping within my arms. Slowly I withdraw the bending, willow sampling. Dawning my kilt and old doublet, kiss her awake as dawn is breaking.

"Me Lady Claire it is time to go now."

"No longer the brut of a Lord will own you".

"You are free of him at last, as know you can fine passion love so freely."

 

[jinnysub]

Claire

The cook wakes me in the morning, smiling and putting her fingers to her lips.

"Milady, your secret is safe with me. It is high time that you have found something of love. But it is almost time for the fires to be lit and the breakfast to be started. You had best begone."

I dress hastily and go to my chambers, knowing the bard has left the manor.

Knowing that, although he has left, he has left me something of myself, lost for many years. My fingers tonight will be directed by someone much more than a lonely, bitter woman. They will be the fingers of a woman who can give pleasure to another and remember that to be the most pleasing of all.

 

[cgraven]

So ends the "Taile of Lady Claire"


Shall I tell you another?

 

[Cutie Lillie]

The Raven Haired Beauty

My name is Geneveie.

I am the daughter of the Lady of Manor, in the house where the Bard I am chasing had spun his song the night before. He was to stay, I heard, but this morning when I went to find his whereabouts they had said he left at daybreak.

I was seeking him out for his presence the evening before. It started something in my soul that wouldn't leave me all evening. It wasn't only the songs that made my heart murmer. It was more a kind of life spark that seemed fill the room. I know, I had no right to seek him out, I was young, only 18, but who would know? I am invisible in this place.

You see, my hair is as black as the raven's wing. Which would not be a problem except neither my mother nor my.. um... father .. have not a strand of that particular hue. Nor either do my cousins nor my grandparents.

I am therefore a shame and in the last few years the looks of my father upon me have shead more fear then trust. He is large, powerful. A man who takes anything he desires and I fear he will desire me, if only to spite my mother. I am a daughter, yet not.

So this man who sat by the hearth last night. He held my attention. He seemed....different.

I don't know what it was.. maybe he knew of life that was free of oppression. Or knew how to battle against it. Either way, I wanted to learn his secret. So I sought him out.... thinking I could shadow him, watch him closely, maybe learn a secret or two I could use against the Lord of my prision, also called the Manor.

But he has vanished! This one I had hoped would spare me and teach me his ways of freedom in the midst of oppression. It was walking back up to my room when upon one instant my fate turned. On my way up the second landing I met my father on the way down. His glare made making instantly wary.

As I passed him I tried to keep my eyes down.. hoping he would just let me pass. I was not so lucky.

His oversized, gnarly hand grabed my left arm and pulled me up against the stone wall. He lear at his self-knowledge that he could do anything to me, as he willed, set a stone inside my body. When he pushed me harder against he wall and forced his mouth upon mine I felt my blood weaken. He pushed his tongue deep into my mouth, my struggles pitifully weak in comparision to his strength. I felt my destiny before me under his hands and I could not bear its sight.

My stuggles fruitless.. the only reaction that saved me came from deep within me. My teeth bore down hard upon his thick tongue. Hard I bit down, knowing if I let up even a second I would be beaten till I couldn't care what happened to me. Hard down my teeth cut into his member until he groaned in pain and pulled off of me..his hand still on my arm.

His anger raging in his eyes, I fought and squrimed.. kicking as hard as I could. I knew screaming would be fruitless. No one would come save me.

Finally my arm popped from his grip and I ran for dear life. I ran out into the world, knowing I could never return. Not knowing where I could run to for safety, leaving everything I knew in one short glance backwards. I ran towards the only thing I felt would bring even a chance of safety.

I ran towards the Bard, in the direction the cook had said he entered the woods.

 

[cgraven]

Me Lady Claire was lightly sleeping as I stole from the room. I had kissed her awake but pleasant slumber is what she needed. Basking in the memories of passion how found.

I wander from the keep past the ruins of my father’s house. Oh as a child how I had loved the all and the traveling bards that would visit. The lilting airs of the harps sweet strings that would touch your soul and move your heart. I wander along the paths of my youth to the old croft preached high on a crag over looking the valley lost in thought f days gone by of time and friends lost.


Lost in a world of times remembered, suddenly brought back to the present by a mournful sorrow that some how touches me. Unseen at first it source unknown. Then she is there on the path below me, “The Raven Harried” child the reminder of passion once taken.

She is here now beside me, tear stained cheeks, hair, and gown disheveled a child lost in the woods. I enfold this lost one into my arms.

“Hush now child tell me what troubles you so.”

 

[Cutie Lillie]

It was a long trek to finally find the man I sought...

Having stumbled a few times, and even though I swore I would not cry.. I felt the hot tears burn my cheeks....

Then there he was, sitting on the outcrop above me.

My heart raced. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he would laugh at me. Or worse. Maybe he would turn me round and make me return to the manor. This thought undid me to point of panic so when I did reach him....all I could do was bury my face in his chest and hide myself there.

I was no coward, yet even the thought of looking into this 'man's' eyes frayed my nerves. I could not. I dared not. What would be behind them? Though his arms felt warm, accepting, and comforting I did not know what waited for me if I looked up.

So, I kept my head buried and murmured into his chest.

"You may not remember me, sir. I am from the manor you sung at last evening, and I've run away."

With that I threw my face upwards to meet his...only centimetres away. My heart dropped into my stomach as what greated me were eyes deep, knowing and kind. They held a slight twinkle of amusement coupled with concern... my knees weaken and I felt my mind start leave my senses.. I wasn't sure if I could stand much longer.

"Take me with you! I'll serve you. I'll do anything....just take me with far away from here!"

 

[cgraven]

She had come running to me like a lost fawn in the woods. The hunting dogs close at her heels. She ran into my arms this “Raven Hair” child and buried her tearstained cheeks deep into my chest. Her sobbing tore at my heart. Who could hurt such a delicate rose? I held her close to me as she sobbed.

"You may not remember me, sir. I am from the manor you sung at last evening, and I've run away."

Her voice was muffled, as her face remained hidden in my chest. Her maiden’s form so soft and firm as she lay within the comfort of my arms. Her gentle fragrance a wonder to be hold, and her body so newly sprung to womanhood was a temptation to bebold. A temptation barely resisted.

The “Raven Hair Child “ threw her head up and my eyes met her sorrowful gaze. Brilliant eyes shimmering, with tears, so deep and soulful. A man could become lost in them forever. A trace of amusement at my longing for this maiden flashed across my mind, but then deep concern for her and her desperate flight from the manor. Had the “Brut Lord” hurt this innocent too?

"Take me with you! I'll serve you. I'll do anything....just take me with far away from here!"

Her lips full moist, so inviting, so near, her breath, warm against my face, and those lustrous eyes drawing ever inward to her very soul. Our lips meet of there own accord. Our kiss was hesitant as our mouth sought each other. A shy and gentle probing of desire. The taste of her was as of the honey of May, so sweet and new. She welcomed me yet tensed in resistance. I break our kiss and search her eyes.


“Yes I remember you, your Lady Claire’s daughter.” My voice was soft and tender. A seductive call to her wounded soul.

“Tell me my child who has hurt you so?”..."What is your name "Raven Hair Child?"

 

[Cutie Lillie]

I thought my legs would not uphold me as my emotions overwhelmed my soul, till that moment my eyes lost sight of eveything but this man looking deeply into my own, questioning eyes, calming my fears.. I felt stronger the longer he looked at me.

Then when his lips connected to mine, I felt the weakness return. A softness, his lips gave. They didn't force or grab which stopped my first unconscious reaction to fight. This sudden intimate moment filled my breast with new found life.

Standing before him, stunned and confused, I hear, “Tell me my child who has hurt you so?”..."What is your name "Raven Hair Child?"

I hesitated. I could not bear to think back to that morning's encounter with the Lord.

There was an undeniable tremor in my voice as out of my mouth I could hear myself speak, "My name is Geneveie."

I was too ashamed to admit that the Lord felt he could take me as he wished. This man would think me a tart, or somehow responsible to causing the Lord's temptation, I was sure.. as didn't all men feel it was the women's resonablity?

So, I ignore his question and continue to plead with him.

"I only want to be free, sir. Please take me with you. Show me the world through which you travel. Show me how you survive so well in a place so heartless. Your songs reveal a heart not dead nor cold with the mistreatment of kind souls."

 

[cgraven]

"My name is Geneveie."

Her lip quivers and a tear runs down her flawless cheek. There is such a deep sorrow in this young woman, such pain that can only be a result of some kind of betrayal.

"I only want to be free, sir. Please take me with you. Show me the world through which you travel. Show me how you survive so well in a place so heartless. Your songs reveal a heart not dead nor cold with the mistreatment of kind souls."

Geneveie words tumbling from her in a rush of pain, sorrow, evasion, and a desperate plea to escape a world that was heartless and curl.

Ah the “Brut Lord” I could see his hand in this. The way his lustful eyes had played across Geneveie’s nubile form at the banquette last night before he turned his attentions to the hapless serving wench. What had he done to make this child flee from hearth and home, to seek the perils of a life on the road, to be a homeless wander who sings for food and shelter. Some how he had made her believe that it must be her fault. Well I had cockle him under his own roof. Now I would humble him.

I sat upon a log and extended my hand to the “Raven Hair Child”.


“Geneveie come sit with me and let me hear you sing.”

 

[Cutie Lillie]

"Oh.....
I wipe my face once again and shake my head in embarressment .....

I cannot sing, sir. I have no talent."

I wait for him to go on, to talk about his travels, or at least something that would benefit my course here...but he only continues to stare at me with one raised eyebrow. I feel a flush start round the base of my neck and I know I must give in for he will not let this moment pass until I acquiesce.

Shaking my head again, this time in resigned submission, I start to hum to myself an old tune my mother once sung to me. Finding the words flow back .. from deep in my memory..


"Will you come with me, my lady,
My lady, my lady?
Will you come with me, my lady
T'were the wildflowers grow?

Come dance with me my loved one,
'Mong the fields of gold and dew
Come dance about my promise
T'which none can take from you.

Come be with me my fair one
Rest in the grass so green
For you are my own true heart
And the love .......

My voice trails off wistfully as my heart catches in my throat. Whilst singing I unconciously laid against the Bard's chest, resting my weary body and soul. At this moment my silence, my sadness, was comforted by the feeling of him around me. "He was more to my world in one hour than the eighteen spent alone in that household", my mind wandered and pondered upon the state in which I now found myself. For a moment there was pure silence .. only the wind in the trees and the bubbling of crisp water in the creek below.

If he could see my face, there would be a mixture of stunned confusion, sadness, love and joy.

 

[cgraven]

Geneveie "The Raven Hair Child" wipes her tearstained cheeks and runny turned up nose.

I cannot sing, sir. I have no talent."

I tilt my head and smile at her one eyebrow arched. I gaze into her deep soulful eyes. There is an awaked silence between us. I do not avert my eyes from hers. Geneveie blushes rose form her head to her toes, tells me she will sing for me. Slowly she nods her head and sings.

Her voice is as sweet as a thrust on a summers mourn. Her cares and woes lend a passion to her song as Geneveie slowly relaxes into my chest. My arms cradled her as she sings. She is safe and content within my arms. The last of her song lingers in the still air.

I smile down at and in my deep voice sing back to her.

"Come be with me my fair one
Rest in the grass so green
For you are my own true heart
And the love ......."

There is a stillness between us.

Come be with me my fair one
Rest in the grass so green
For you are my own true heart
And the love .......


"Geneveie your song moves my soul and fills me with passion."

"If it be your desire come be with me fair one and we shall rest in the grass so green"

"For I shall take nothing that is not freely given"

I bend to meet her lips. They are but a breath away, as I await her answer.

 

[Cutie Lillie]

When I heard his voice take up the song, my eyes closed and drank in his baritone voice....each breath drank it in deeper into my body, its masculine depth nourishing and cleasing her.

When his lips came within a breath's of hers it was only a moment's pause before her heart made the decision. Her head lifting the final centimeters to reach a kiss that drenched her soul with a melting desire.

This was the first kiss he ever felt where she could take what was offered. So she drank as if parched by the sun. Taking in his freedom, his strength, he drank him in arching her body which was becoming hungry for him as well.

She did not know it, but he giving her more than a simple kiss.

 

[cgraven]

Geneveie lips meet mine a kiss, a sharing, and a giving. The most intimate of passions acts. There was a hunger in this "Raven Hair Child's" need and I gave her all that she need even unto taking part of my spirit. Aye a dangerous move for I could be bound to her soul for eternity in a restless searching for her my soul mate. Yet condemned from life to life never to find her again, alone through time with out end. The need of her is so great, I can not refuse.

I guide Geneveie to the green grass and lie by her side. My hazel eyes seek out her dark and sad shimmering pools. Tenderly, hesitantly I caress her cheek and stroke her hair, dark as the Raven's wing. My passion for this maiden born out of revenge for the "Brut Lord has been he replaced by a passion to give her the strength,that she, Geneveie so desperately needs.

"How may I please Thy "My maiden So Fair?"

 

[Cutie Lillie]

Geneveie

The question stunned the girl. She was so caught into the Bard's masculine presence that she lost sight of her own needs.

"I do not know what you mean, sir.

It would please me if you would take me under your wing. Teach me to live in this world with no need for house nor home.

To be pleased..that is something I know not of.. is not my role, not what I have been taught ...a women's role is only to be a instrument to please a man and make his household successful. But I cannot live that life, it stinks of death and I want the freedom I see in your world.

That is what would please me."

She is afraid her boldness might have been too harsh and keeps her lips silent...staring, waiting for the man next to her in the green grass with the quiet deep twinkle in his eyes.. waiting for him to help her understand.