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#14 | ||
Spirit of the Lonely Star
Join Date: Mar 2002
Posts: 5,133
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The great owl who'd been perched on a bough, high above the assembly, glanced down at the wren and heard him speak. As if in response, the owl spread out his snowy wings and glided to the earth, standing almost at the edge of the firepit. The bird's tone, though solemn, was not unkindly as he turned to address the wren and the others in the circle. His speech, like that of the other animals, was not the common tongue used by Man, but the ancient language of the Elves that some call Quenyan. In his snowy plumage, the owl looked much like a wizard with billowing white robes.
"Has not your mother told you the tale?" the owl gently chastised the wren. "On this, the longest night of the year, when the Yule log crackles on the hearth, all the creatures of the field and woods come together and speak the old tongue, the father of all words. And strange pictures leap out of the dying flames to remind us creatures of what we must do tonight." A small rabbit rushed to the front of the crowd, breaking loose from his mother's stern grasp, and ran over to where the embers smoldered, his voice laced with wonder, "I see a picture. I do see it. There are wonderful trees dancing in the flames.....apple and cherry trees, I do believe." He glanced over shyly at the owl and asked, "But what does this mean?" "Do they teach nothing to children these days?" The owl grumbled under his breath. Out loud he said, "But this is the night when the earth comes alive. We must go wassailing and sing to the trees so they will bring forth blooms in the spring and then the sweet fruit." Just at this moment, a line of fruit trees sitting just outside the courtyard of the Inn began waving their branches and leaning far over the fence as if calling out for a song. The owl piped up and began his verse: Quote:
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Multitasking women are never too busy to vote. Last edited by Child of the 7th Age; 12-30-2005 at 02:02 AM. |
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