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PostPosted: Mon Jun 12, 2006 8:01 am    Post subject: Tear Strung Lyre Reply with quote






Tear Strung Lyre-Prelude

In the days before a champion saved Enlayia from her wars, before the days the hall ever met in Ebn-dar their capital, even before their were noblemen or knights in the ancient kingdom of Gilead, a few people were born that were never forgotten by any Enlayian or by any other person who ever heard their sad, sweet tale.

In those old days, the men of Enlayia had not yet cleared much of the wood that lay within the borders of that mysterious land, and the wood was so thick that all one could see for miles around where the tall, thick, stately bark of many trees both thick and slender.




The pale green light that filtered through the leaves, the gentle sounds of birds among the branches, the cool air that smelled of the green mossy grass that grew there, and the plenty of animals for hunting should have cooled men’s hearts, but it did not.

In those days, the huntsmen of Enlayia were still new to the wonder of this peaceful forest, and their eyes seldom looked up from the ground they walked to observe the beauty of all that surrounded them.

In those days when all thought there should have been peace and prosperity, there was no peace but rather war of the worse sort. The woodsmen of Enlayia fought against one another until every man looked at another in suspicion and distrust.

Worse still, the Dundee men came from the north and went burning through the forest seeking pastureland for their many cattle and sheep. The Gildean's of the south, mostly farmers by nature due to rich soil of the land of their birth, came marching through Enlayia in hopes of herding the Dundee men back the land from which the had came. War was within the borders of Enlayia, hunger, and distrust.

Neighbor fought against Neighbor, while stranger fought stranger, and more often than not, the stranger fought and killed the native people of Enlayia. In vain now did many Enlayian’s seek for peace, for they found their enemies more willing to talk with axe and sword than to brandy words.

Soon, but not quite soon enough, the Enlayians and Gildeans joined their forces and succeed in forcing the Dundee back to the land where they came from, hopefully never to return. Enlayia laid aside its weapons then, declaring all wars illegal in their land, and they bid the Gildean neighbors a weary goodbye without much thanks.

Some Gildean never left the land in which they had shed so much blood, but brought their families to Enlayia, or took wives among the natives. Our tale begins with a man who made such a decision.


Tear Strung Lyre-Part 1-Chapter 1: A Begining

Gentle hills, the soft smell of pines, and the sweet song of birds cloaked the small glade where three men stood. The soft rustle of wings sounded as a small sparrow hawk settled in a tall tree nearby.



The hawk, a sharp-eyed friend of mine, gazed keenly at the men and took note of their words. It is from that hawk that we have received the beginning of this tale, and much of what know of this story is owed to that wise hawk who studied the speech of men. From his lofty peak on the tree, the hawk gazed down, and this is what he saw that day of those three men who have now become famous in various degrees in our country.

The eldest of the three stood tall that day, his proud shoulders not slumped by the age he wore so apparent on his head. A hoary head of curly gray hair crowned him with a respectful dignity that could not be ignored. A simple glance into his tan face traced with lines would show sternness, stubbornness, and steadfastness that was hard to find those days. Yet, one must only to look into the old man’s gray eyes to know that he was kind. Broad shoulders, harden muscles, and rough hands bore the signs of the farmer, but the axe that sat easily in his belt loop told the tale that he reaped men’s lives as well as grain. His name was Joses, or so we are told.

A younger man stands across from him, his arms crossed and his eyes raised in the stubborn defiance of youth. Yet he also was not a novice, although he was young and clearly the son of the older man, Joses. A pair of muscled arms, strong legs, and calloused palms showed that he too had learned to work for his bread. His hair was a chestnut brown and his eyes, but within his brown eyes, there lay a secret fire. Passionate, stubborn, and quick to wrath he was fiery, but he was also learning to bare burdens, responsibility, and tenderness to the smallest things by walking in the footsteps of his father. Younger, not a youth, for tales say that this young man was 21 when this tale began. His name has come a proverb and lesson in foolishness, for his name was Saul.

The third man stands in silent contemplation of the other two with his back leaned against a strong tree. He also was Joses son, and looked much as his father would have at the age 23. Simeon, as was his name, had inherited the lighter brown of their mother’s hair, and the gray eyes of their father. His broad shoulders, prominent chin, and massive arm muscles testified to his great strength, which came in useful in his work as blacksmith. Although his face was stern, his height and build threatening, his twinkling eyes testified to the fact that he was a many more ready with a smile than with a frown.

These three men were Gildeans who had been dismissed from their service in the Gildean army. They parted company from the main unit but days before, and now they took their mid-day rest not a two hours hike from the border of Enlayia and its capital city Ebn-dar.

Worried tones proceed from the father as he tried in vain to persuade his youngest son, Saul from his decision to stay in the country of Enlayia. His arguments were but in vain, for Saul stubborn stuck to his decision.

Saul, who was a woodsmen by nature and caver of wood by trade, had fallen in love with the countryside of Enlayia. He would stay, but not without his father’s blessing. Saul loved his father dearly, and he would not leave his hardworking father without his receiving his father’s approval of the path he had chosen. Therefore, Saul dug in his heals and argued with all his might for his cause.

Finally, Joses conceded to let his son stay knowing that he could not change his son’s mind or force him to go back to the land of Gilead without breaking both their hearts in the process. Shaking his head once more, Joses spread his hands open in a sign of resignation and surrender. “I can’t say that I am happy about this decision, but go with the blessing of the Lord my son. May He keep you in all your ways, give you wisdom to cool your rash head, and prudence, least you turn too stubborn to let even the Lord to guide you.” Joses words echoed with the ring of prophecy, and lingered in his son’s ears as a note of warning from that day forth.

Nearly shouting for glee, Saul heartily thanked his father. As the hawk watched, it was agreed that Saul would stay in Enlayia in Ebn-dar . Joses was pained at the thought that his sons were going to leave him if only for a little while. It was with this thought he made a provision for Saul and promise with Simeon. Reaching his hands in benediction to his younger son, he gave him this promise, “I will not have any say that I let my son go without hope or inheritance from his father’s hands. I will not sell all your inheritance, but keep a parcel of land which fell to you by lot of the Lord, so if you or any of your prosperity shall return to your land, they will not find themselves without a home.”

As for Simeon, he talked with his father a long time, while his brother hunted for their night’s dinner. After a while, Simeon and his father had come to a conclusion. “With your blessing, I will stay with Saul at least until his gets a place to stay, or properly settled with a wife which ever comes first. Saul will need me most within the first few years of difficulty that both you and I will know will come. Yet, I will not stay here there is too many memories of friends dying within this wood for me to make it my home, at least not now. I will come home as soon as I see my brother settled and not a moment later.”

Joses agreed, smiling proudly at his eldest son for so wise a decision. Reaching forth a hand touch his tall son’s head, he gave Simeon this tender blessing, “Very well, take the blessing of the Lord with you then. May the Lord guide you and give you counsel in times of need, I have a feeling you will need every ounce of His guidance and mercy.”

“And may the Lord be with you,” Simeon said in a loving reply, “and grant that you find hearth, home, and wife soon. May His graces dwell with richly and May you never cease to continue within His Peace.”

Saul returned successful from his hunt, and they said their final goodbye as the sun’s chariot, weary from its day’s race, began to head toward its rest in the golden west. The hawk watched the men’s final meal together, and not understanding the tender embraces of the men as they parted ways, took the wings of the wind as the sky turn a violet blue of the sweet and gentle twilight that bore the tidings of men’s rest in its gentle footsteps.

Unknowably, the hawk had seen, and heard the decision that would affect more than even Saul or his family could have known. The hawk had witnessed the event, which was a beginning of something larger than the decision of one man. Like the stone which ripples the water, this event began something that we have often call a tale, but would give birth to something only a legend could contain.
~~~
*More in next post*


Last edited by dinranwen on Wed Mar 14, 2007 11:01 am; edited 20 times in total
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 12, 2006 8:05 am    Post subject: Reply with quote



Time, our old friend and often our enemy, marked its slow pace as Saul and Simeon won many battles in the land of Enlayia. Not the least of which was earning the deep respect of the Enlayians themselves, who had now come to look at their Gilead neighbors in a grudging respect but also suspicion.

By the end of their first year, Saul and Simeon were known as men you could trust, good businessmen, gentlemen, and most important in the Enlayian mind, hard workers. Within a short period, the men of Enlayia trusted them, even with their daughters, and many a mother looked at these two men with hope.

Soon, Simeon had started to work as a head blacksmith in a prominent smithy, and Saul had enough money to buy a small chart where he could display his popular wares of carved figurines. Days went by and weeks, until one day Saul fell in love with a girl whose name was Lyra.

Lyra was a small, sweet, smiling thing whose tongue was always filled with a song. Often called Lark, she was the younger daughter of Bochim and Mara, the younger sister to the pairs eldest daughters whom people took little note. Men were drawn to her rather than her older sister, for Lyra was beautiful, lithe, and as full of youth as her sister was filled with age. Her sister at the age of 25 was already considered an old maid, and many men refused her for this fact. For these reason's and many more, the men of the village preferred chassing Lyra who was both young and beautiful. Yet Lyra’s eyes were only for one man alone.

The stranger from Gilead, Saul, drew her eyes as month after month she saw the fruit Saul’s hard work brought forth. Many a day she could be seen hanging near the cart of Saul smiling sweetly at the man as he bantered with her teasingly, his brown eyes taking on a new light softer light as he feet caught the light step that only love gave. With bowed head, and humble petition he asked to court Lyra.

The petition was welcomed gladly as her Mother and Father rejoiced in the fact that at least one of their daughters would marry. They were a poor family, the family of Bochim, and could not offer much in the way of dowry; therefore, their hope was laid on the beauty of their youngest daughter. Meanwhile, the elder sister stood in a corner her head bowed in shame and sorrow, as a silent tear stole across her cheek. She had entertained hopes also, but seeing her sister’s joyful response at Saul’s suit, she once again stepped aside preferring the hope of the younger to her own vain desires.

Months past and Simeon heard much of Lyra’s beauty from the mouth of Saul. Saul had changed much from the stern, unyielding woodsmen he had been, in few short weeks of his courting with gentle Lyra. On a typical day, Simeon would be forced to hear with much sighing and painful glances, the gracefulness of Lyra. “Oh Simeon, I simply don’t know what I will do if he father refuses to let me marry her for she is so beautiful that I pine for the sight of her every time I have to come to the city to sell the wood that I have carved or cut. Her hair is like the bark of oak tree on a sunny day after it has rained, and her eyes are the purest light green a man has ever beheld. I could look at her for hours, lost amidst the forest of her expressive eyes that reminds me of the light of the woods that I learned to hold so dear. Her neck is as ivory, her cheeks as the rose, and when she walks, nay I cannot not say she walks, for she glides. It would be vain indeed to say Lyra walks for she flies as the wind and the grace of the shallow is in her steps.”

Such was his talk until one summer; the brothers were able to buy a small cottage in the woods with their combined incomes. It was a beautiful property lined with a stream nearby on one side of the property, a small but fruitful pear orchard, and surrounded by the tall stately pines of Enlayia from which Saul got most of his wood for carving.

Rejoicing in their success, Saul went with a hope to Lyra’s father hoping that maybe now his suit would be accepted. Humbly kneeling before her father and mother, Saul asked from them for permission to beg for Lyra’s hand. The suit was accepted, and Lyra with a song of triumph and song joyful agreed, practically throwing herself in Saul’s arms. The court was accepted, the date of the marriage set, and the fate of one couple forever bound.

~ ~ ~


In glorious reds, gold, oranges, and yellows of fall, Saul and Lyra wed standing underneath the bright chapel that nature herself made for them that day. Standing with pride at their side, Simeon watched proudly as his brother married his bride that he talked of with such pride.

As for the sister, she stood there also, her cheeks pale, but her chin lifted high. Kind and gracious as her sister was innocent and carefree, it was with a whole heart she congratulated her sister’s happy marriage.

That night with simple sweetness of one who knows how to take a defeat well, she said goodbye to the pair. She was not seen again for sometime, for her mother was not blind. Mara knew that her eldest daughter had loved Saul, and feared unfairly, therefore she sent her daughter in shame to dwell in a nunnery with an Enlayia order of church virgins who acted as nurses in the district. “Think on your fate, and consider wisely what you should do,” was all Mara said in the way of a goodbye. Mara was somewhat ashamed at her eldest daughter now that her youngest daughter was married, and she hoped that her daughter would quietly take the hint and join the nunnery.

Yet her father loved her, for he had known that he had loved Saul but he did not fear for her, but rather trusted his daughter’s nature to keep her free from evil thoughts or jealousy. He did not wish her to join the nunnery, but still he sent her away with silent glances filled with hope. Like a shadow that fades quickly away, she stepped of the stage of the little play of her sister’s life, yet unknowing what fate would await her someday.

This neither Saul, nor Simeon knew of the girl's affection for Saul, although they might have guessed, but that we do not know. What we do know is that rather than leaving as one might expect, Simeon stayed reasoning well that the cost of the wedding and a new bride would be too much for Saul to handle quiet yet.

Therefore, he decided to stay until he could bring news to his family that Saul’s first child was born. Judging from the loving glances of the couple, Simeon knew it would not be long.

Harvest went by, then winter, and finally spring melted the snow that covered the branches of many tall mountains, hills, and trees. As spring began to break the hard face of winter with its slow blossoming, Lyra also began to bud also her stomach grew larger with the hope that she had within her.

Early that March, just before the main rivers of the land freed themselves from their icy chains, Lyra begged a pardon of Saul. Placing one hand on her bulging stomach, Lyra made her plea with a pleading voice and tearful eyes. She begged her husband to take her to the High Hills of the North to see the breaking of the falls. She had never seen the falls, and she wished to see them while she could. Saul, unable to refuse his wife’s pleas, yielded and the began to make their slow way towards the Hills just South of the Mighty Mountain chain of the North.



The High Hills were considered to foot hills of those Mountains, and it was from their icy heights that land received much of its generous streams, lakes, and rivers.


It was agreed that Simeon would guard their house and the fragile blooms of their orchard until they returned. They promised to back within a month, but Simeon was filled with a strange foreboding as he watched the couple nosily depart on the backs of two sturdy horses.

Time, cruel as it was, seemed to tick the time away until seconds seemed like days to Simeon, and the days felt like months. At last, after a long and anxious wait, the time of the pairs return drew close. Everyday, Simeon sat outside looking for their glad return worried every day that they had been delayed by the birth of Lyra’s child.

A month passed and still there was no sign of the couples return. Finally, as the month of May turned into June, Simeon spotted a lone figure heading down the path towards Saul’s home. Thinking it was some beggar or thief, Simeon grabbed an axe to turn away the visitor. As the stranger drew closer, Simeon could see its matted hair, its torn clothes, and severe bruise on the creature’s body. Simeon’s hear turned in compassion and he dropped the axe, rushing forward to support the man as he stumbled. When the man lifted his eyes, Saul knew it was his brother.


Last edited by dinranwen on Wed Aug 23, 2006 12:37 pm; edited 6 times in total
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 12, 2006 8:07 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

*If this is made the decision point, the question will be: What happened? Where's Lyra? What happened to Saul, why does he look so bedraggled?
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 12, 2006 8:15 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Haven't got time to read it just now - but unless it's a new chapter, try to keep everything in one post.

Double/Triple posting isn't necessary - just stick it at the end.

If it's something you forgot to say, then you can use the Edit button to add it in.

~

A simple tilde like that is all you need to seperate between different things you're talking about.

or maybe something more obvious like a line...

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PostPosted: Mon Jun 12, 2006 8:28 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

(Oh....*Blushes* I'm sorry I didn't know. I'm so used to having to work within word limits that it's just habit to double or triple post things now. But thanks for informing me.)
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 7:34 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Okay, I've decided to not make this the decision point, I decide by including more I can make things much more interesting. So Chapter 1 Part 2 will be posted soon.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 7:37 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

dinranwen, as long as your in this community, know one thing. We don't yell at new people for making mistakes. We are human. It is human nature to make msitakes.

Occasionally there is some flaming, some spice between us (Ravenwing, me), but we always cool down.

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PostPosted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 7:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote



Although what had happened had never come clear, a small lark and wood owl both agreed on this story. Saul and Lyra had been attacked by a small group of bandits near the falls that day. The bandits had quickly knocked Saul over the head and then beat him badly. They had left him bleeding and unconscious where fell on the ground.

Saul never found Lyra, but only a trail of blood that told no tales. In haze, Saul wandered nowhere until one day he found her pack smeared with blood caught in the roots of great tree in the brooks that lead away from the great falls. The pack was Lyra’s, and Saul clung to it desperately in those first few weeks of sickness.

Slowly but surely, the lark and the owl sat nearby the cabin window and listened to sounds of healing, but also madness that escaped the window. It would not be until late June that the fever that held Saul in the hazy of madness, departed. That month, Saul returned to normal, if normal it could be called, once again returned grudgingly to life with a stern face, icy glances, and harden heart.

It was without a smile that Saul once again returned to the market, a cool businessman that had replaced the kind man he once was. A shrewd gaze replaced the eyes of grief and even Simeon stepped lightly around the man his brother had become.

Once again, Saul began to eat and strength as Simeon had never hoped his brother would after his great loss. The miraculous recovery was not without purpose. Saul had sworn to the Lord in his wanderings back to home a rash vow, which would be difficult to fulfill. Yet, a vow sworn to the Lord must be kept and never broken no matter how difficult it was to fulfill. Saul had sworn that he would bury Lyra’s bones, no matter how long it took in finding them.

Saul also had another purpose that he did not yet speak, but let it fester within the secret of his heart until it became a fire to his flesh and a poison to his marrow. He would make another vow soon, but not now, nor as rashly as the first but would wait after he had healed and again was strong enough to fulfill it.

Two months exactly after Saul’s return in the heat of June, Lyra’s father stood within the door a grave matter weighing heavily on his mind. “It is our custom within our land that if a man’s wife leaves or dies within the first year of their union for a cause not by the man’s intent, that we give to him a sister of the dead girl who shall serve in her stead even taking the name of the deceased. In this way the man will not be left without a wife to bear him sons, nor our daughter’s inheritance which is now yours by right be taken into another woman’s hands and be profaned. I have yet another daughter; will you take her to wife? I know you are foreigners here, but I must tell you that if you refuse this offer I must drive from my sight or I must require your vow that you will never marry nor take another woman to your bed but remain a eunuch in the dead woman's honor.”

“You would not give your daughter to a man who walks as one dead, would you?” Saul said blandly, his dull eyes gazing blindly at the man who had been his father in law. “I will not take another wife, nor yet will I take a vow, for a man should only swear himself twice in his life, if at all.”

“Yet there is another matter which I must speak, my eldest daughter loves you. Surely, you know that. Ever since you have returned, she pines as an unwanted dog that lies lonely in the streets. She eats not, nor touches water. She knows of our traditions and has a hope, if a false hope that you will marry her and perhaps learn to return her love. Every day that I waited, she seemed to waste away a little more, until I could bear the sight of her shinning eyes and starved face no longer, but I ask you sooner than some would have. I fear that if I bring your refusal she will disappear a little each day, until there is naught but a shell left and she will die. I have lost one daughter, would you be the one who causes me to lose the other, the last of my children, bearers of my line?”

Saul scowled, and Simeon winced as he looked at Saul from where he sat watching his brother during Lyra’s father’s speech. Simeon knew his brother wished to die, but for some reason unknown to him, Saul had chosen to live. The reason was probably revenge, Simeon knew.

Although Saul had said nothing, Simeon knew his brother in more ways than he would have liked. Whatever Saul’s choice, Simeon knew that the results would end in sorrow unless the Lord himself worked in Saul’s now hardened heart.

If Saul refused to marry this girl, another's womean's blood would be on his hands, but if he agreed Saul would feel that he had betrayed his one true love. Whatever his decision will be it would change the course of his path and this woman's also.


*Okay, decision point time, Should Saul agree to marry this Girl? Should he refuse? Or should he do something else? The choice is up to you, so vote wisely.


Last edited by dinranwen on Sat Aug 05, 2006 2:59 pm; edited 2 times in total
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 7:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

dinranwen, keep a post per chapter, don't continue off, or else a mod will delete this topic. For every new chapter a new post.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 7:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks, I'm still new here and am unused to all the technicalities, but don't worry I'm taking notes *scribbles furiously on notebook pad* and I hopefully won't this same mistakes again. Thanks for letting me know that no flames are forth coming *carefully removes helmet, :biggrin: * I feel much better now.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 8:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Looks interesting. As Smee said, try to keep the same chapter in one post as much as possible. I'll comment on the story itself later.
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 15, 2006 3:41 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, I might just take that statement back. I'm pretty sure you might be flamed by two people.

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PostPosted: Thu Jun 15, 2006 5:19 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Finally caught up with this one.

First: Please put more spaces in! At the end of a paragrpah and between people speaking. It was a struggle for me to read.

As for the story: A few errors here and there, but nothing major.

I like it so far. A good story building up here, though I am confused about one thing. Why hasn't he gone back and searched for Lyna already? It seems something he would have done as soon as he was fit again.

This influences me on the DP. I would say that this would spur him on to return to the place they were attacked, and search for her again. If he can't find her, then I think he would take up the offer.

A promising start! Just sort out the spacing please!
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PostPosted: Sat Jun 17, 2006 6:30 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks for the comments both good and bad, as for Saul's reasons...His mind his own, not mine, nor anybody else's. Perhaps more will be revelead in time *hint, hint*. I'm sorry about the spacing, I'm mostly transfering from word and boy is copy and pasting hardwork. I'll work on the errors and see if I can get them fix before I post the next chapter.

Decision Point: Should Saul agree to marry this unknown girl? Or should he disagree? Should he take immediate action or something else?

Comments are still welcome and I'm going to wait for more response before asking one of the mods to post a poll. Thanks again, Dinranwen.

Opinions so far:

Forget the Girl! Go look for Lyra, You idiot!--1 person
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PostPosted: Sat Jun 17, 2006 11:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I like the start of this story. A couple of mistakes, but overall, it's very stylish and intriguing.

I guess, with Saul, I think he'll feel like he's betraying his first love whatever he does. His poor dead wife hasn't left his heart, so he has to be true to her.

But, if he allows his love's sister to die, what sort of man would that make him in her eyes?

I think he'll take her on, but be generally cold and angry about it. She won't get any joy out of the arrangement, and niether will he.

Then, the hunt for the bones...
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PostPosted: Sun Jun 18, 2006 6:53 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Aaah, a person after my own heart...if story writers could vote, your opinion would definetly by mine. Thanks for the compliments, and please don't be afraid of commenting on my mistakes, I'm horrible with grammer so I need all the help I can get.

But your right in one way at least, this story is a whole lot about regret, betrayal, revenge, and perhaps...redemtion.

Please keep comments coming! Like I said before I'm going to keep this forum open for a while to allow for anyone who likes to coment to be able to. This will also give me time to write a couple chapter revesion so I will be ready no matter the result.

Opinions so far:

Forget the Girl! Go for Revenge/find Lyra's Bones!---1

Marry the Girl! But then Revenge....---1

Other--Please post!
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 22, 2006 3:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

One poll is up.
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 22, 2006 7:24 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

To Lordofthenight:
Thank you, thank you, thank you. *grovels* Your kindess, milord is appreciated.

To the rest of ya:
As y'all heard the poll is up so please vote. If you have another viewpoint, please post it. I will take in these view points for the story latter. Thanks to y'all.
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PostPosted: Mon Jun 26, 2006 7:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Have to go with Stoat's suggestion. Saul is the kind of person, I see, wanting to be a good Samaritan.

P.S. Dinny, don't need to blow up Lordy's ego anymore. LOL. Very Happy

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PostPosted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 5:21 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Okay so counting the post and the votes. we have:

*Forget the Girl! Revenge awaits--1

*Marry the girl! But then Revenge--2

*Other-0

So unless someone has any other input, I will probably end the poll later today and post the next chapter then or tommorrow. But I'll leave the poll up for a little while more...
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PostPosted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 7:43 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm going to go ahead and take down this pole, Chapter 2 coming soon...
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PostPosted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 8:06 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Tear Strung Lyre
Chapter 2: No heart to Give

“I hear your plea old man,” Saul growled, “I will not see another woman die, if I must marry her to prevent that death, so be it! Yet, I do not promise to love her; I cannot love another ever again. I can promise to take care of her, and to leave her well off if I should die, but no more, and no less. My heart will never be hers, make sure she understands that!”

“Very well,” Lyra’s father said in an icy voice, “when shall the marriage be? It must be soon, or you’ll be marrying a ghost not my daughter.” The concern in the man’s eyes was as clear as day, and one could see that he truly loved his daughter, and loved her more so because of his other daughter’s death. All the love and purpose of his mind seemed to be on seeing his eldest daughter happy as if she were a vessel that he could pour into all the hopes he had for a future into her.

“You have your costumes, and we have ours in Gilead. It is our custom to morn for the dead for three months." Saul said in a menacing tone, "Let me finish the time of my morning, and I will marry your daughter within the fatness of the fourth month according to the time you shall choose.”

“So be it,” Bochim extended his hand and shook Saul’s hand in the ancient sign of a sealed bargain. The man held his grip unto Saul’s hands as the handshake ended and glared deep into Saul’s eyes, “I warn you though,” he said leaning closer to Saul, “that if you hurt my daughter, you will not live to see another harvest.”

With those words, the man stomped outside leaving Saul standing motionless in the doorway, his back towards Simeon.

“So it as you wished in the beginning, your little brother is getting married, and will finally settle down with a wife.” Saul’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he turned to face Simeon the moonlight shining though the open doorway behind him.

“I did not say that.” Simeon said standing as he pushed away from the table.

“But you wished it, you cannot deny it.”

“I did,” Simeon said, steadily looking into his brother’s blazing eyes calmly.

“Well, your wish is come true. Now, go home! I desire your company here no longer.” Saul gestured toward the door as he grabbed Simeon’s bedding from the floor, and quickly rolled it into a bundle. Tossing it at his brother, Saul rushed madly about the cabin grabbing Simeon’s belongings, provisions, and a few gold coins. Simeon gazed at his brother in dismay as he sat for a few moments at a complete loss for words.

“There,” Saul said slamming the items he gathered on the table, “That should suffice thee.”

“Saul, perhaps I could stay, you need me,” Simeon said his eyes filled with concern and worry as dismay filled his voice.

“No,” Saul said yelling at the top of his voice, “I don’t need you, I don’t need anybody. Don’t you get it; I do not need your help any longer! I am a full-grown man; I do not need my big brother to change my diapers any longer. No leave.” Saul pulled his hair and seemed close to tears or a fight. Simeon watched his brother closely as Saul fingered a dagger at his waistline unconsciously.

Simeon knew that if he did not leave, he would no longer be facing his brother but a madman he could not handle, and more than likely it would be his blood on the floor not Saul’s.

“Fine, I’ll go back to the city, if you need anything…” Simeon said as he hurriedly gathered the bundle on the table, leaving the coins where they were, and slowly backing toward the door.

“No, go home. Go back where you belong! Do you think I do not know of your promise to our father? Therefore, go, be happy while you may, for tomorrow you may die, or perhaps I will,” Saul said chuckling insanely. After his laugh, a sinister glare came into his eyes that Simeon had never seen and hoped never to see it again in any man’s eye. For what he saw was death, death, and pain for himself if he did not comply with this man’s commands immediately. “But if you don’t leave within the week, I’ll hunt you down and make you leave, one way, or the other.”

Fearing for his brother and his own life, Simeon agreed hoping that perhaps their father could advise him on what to do. The next day saw him quickly slipping out Enlayia unmarked by any living thing except for a shadow that grimly carried an axe and an old fox that told us the tale.

~ ~ ~

That fall, Mother Nature once again put on her colors but instead of being bright vibrant ones full of cheery tunes, dull browns, sickly greens, and cheerless yellows decorated the scene where a happy crowd had stood but a year before. Only the parents of the bride stood in the clearing witnessing the marriage of one happy bridegroom, and fearful bride. An Enlayian priest full dressed in all the prompt and show of his order, looked down his sharp nose at the pair before him. It was clear in his icy blue gaze that he was simply doing his duty here, and that a hefty price would be levied at the end of this cheerless ceremony.

“We stand here today to join this woman and this man together in marriage.” The priest intoned in an emotionless voice as he lifted his baldhead to gaze above the pair, “Yet, we are not forgetful that this union is not made without sorrow. For this man’s wife died, leaving him without issue, and without the comfort of a wife. Another woman, perhaps, may serve for the dead, therefore we have taken a woman from among her sisters, and she stands before us this day,” the priest paused shortly stocking his dark shaggy beard that was dotted with gray, as he looked at the girl next her pale bridegroom.

“It is with this thought that I ask thee woman, will thou take the place of the deceased and become the wife of this man?”

Lyra’s elder sister peered through her veil at her groom with a seeking glance. Saul stood pale, grim, and stern beside her not saying a single word or even looking in her direction. Silently tears began to well in the girl’s eyes as she realized that though this man would marry her if he must, he would never love her, at least not the way he had loved her sister.

She knew the tradition of her people well, and knew that by saying yes she was doing more than simply marrying the man she had learned to love, surrender, and tried in vain to forget. If she said yes, she would take on Lyra’s name but much more than her name. If she said yes, not only would her name be changed to Lyra but also from that day, forth she would no longer be herself, but would become her sister in everyone’s eyes.

To say yes to this man, was deny herself, for she would have to become like Lyra in every way possible, and the girl she once was would cease to exist. Her name would be forgotten and would be as if she had never existed. From every record and from every history they would cross her name out, and every memory of her original life would be forgotten never again told in rumor or tale.

It would be as if she had never been born. Nevertheless, she knew what she had to say, she already knew her answer.

“I do,” she said standing up straight, her shoulder’s thrown back proudly as she tired in vain to stop the tears that now started to flow down her checks.

Perhaps, she thought as she once again glanced at her husband to be, he will learn to love me a little in his own way. 'If he only loved me as a sister, I would be content,' was her only silent thought.

“Then I name thee Lyra, and from this day forth ye shall be as her, and shall be her indeed. Let it be known throughout the land that the name to be forgotten is to be struck from every list, and every memory of what once was but now never shall have been, be forgotten.”

“So be it,” intoned her family.

“So be it,” intoned Saul.

“So be it,” said the girl who was now called Lyra, the tears cracking her clear voice with sorrow.

“Join hands,” the priest said, and then proceeded to mumble some words in ancient language nobody knew.

Then proceeded to declare primly, “You stand already married to this woman before the state, but let it be said that with these joining of hands that this couple have renewed their union again tightening the bonds already tied. You may kiss your wife.” The priest intoned as he released the pair’s hands.

Saul step forward lifting his new Lyra’s veil, and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. Then turning to face the crowd, Saul lifted his voice and announced, “I promise that I will take care of this woman for as long as my life shall last, however short that will be. I will provide with hearth and home. If I should die for some cause, I can promise that she will not be left desolate for I have laid a store aside for the woman whom I will not touch, and behold; I have given her the land for her own so she may be able to live in this place, no matter what happens to me. Now, therefore, go and find what peace you can, there is nothing else for you to see this day.”

The girl’s father, a tall rugged man dressed in his best fur and leather tunic for this occasion stepped forward to kiss his daughter on her cheek. “May you be blessed my daughter,” he whispered into his only child’s ear while his well trimmed beard tickling her right ear, as he leaned close, “I will not forget either thee or thy sister whom thou hast become, no matter what the words of priest. For I loved thee as well as thy sister, never forget that.”

Taking his daughter’s hands close to his, her father pressed a sheathed dagger in her hands. The sheath was decorated ornately in the greens, browns, and blues Enlayians loved, and in the handle of the blade was set with a single stone that seemed a strange mixture of blue and green. It was a wedding dagger that rich fathers gave their daughters, but the girl knew he father could little offer such a trifle.

“A gift to mark your year together,” he said aloud, but as he leaned close to kiss both her cheeks he softly whispered into her ears, “The blade is sharp and strong. Do not hesitate to use it; I do not trust the man your new husband has become.” Stepping away from his eldest daughter, her father saluted Saul stiffly with an upright hand in a gesture of peace and farewell.

Her mother haggard with grief kissed her daughter’s cheeks as one dazed, and shook the hand that Saul offered blindly. As her mother stumbled away, the girl gazed once again glanced at her husband her eyes filled kindness that few people ever found.

Instead of the traditional wedding feast the girl deserved, she fixed a simple stew with what she could find. The smell of cooking seemed to awaken Saul out of his daze and for the first time Saul truly looked at his new bride.

His new wife looked nothing like his old Lyra, except for the same chin and nose they seemed to had both inherited from their mother. Everything else about this girl separated her from his old wife like night from day. Where his Lyra’s hair had been a rich golden chestnut that matched his own hair, this girl’s hair was dark. Her brown hair was so dark and so thick that it was nearly black, yet within her dark tresses, there gleamed the hint of red and chocolate brown.

Lyra’s hair had been long and curly coming down to her skinny waist, but this girl only a little wave in her hair that came only to the middle of her back. Where Lyra had been skinny, almost frail, yet somehow strong, this girl was well built and her now barred forearms showed that this girl was not afraid of work.

Lyra had reminded Saul of the willow and birches of this country, sturdy but slender, strong but frail in its gracefulness, but this girl remained him of the tall, thick, stately pine that dotted the entire countryside. Saul made note of the differences coolly like a merchant checking his wares for flaws, and as he coolly noted that this girl was not ugly, he made a list of ten faults for everything good he found in this girl.

That night the owl that had often sat at Saul’s bedside during his sickness listened closely as he heard Saul make it abundantly clear that he had married her out of pity not love, that he could never love her, and that she would never be his wife in any way other than name.

Coldly the man’s voice turned to ice as he told her to give up all hopes she had ever entertained of love, caring, children, or anything other than a strict fulfilling of her needs.

“I have promised to give you a home, money, food, and anything else you might need or desire. What else can I give you, is there anything you desire other than what you already asked me to do? Tell me what you would wish for, and I would give it to you, for such is the vow that I have made.” Saul said in a business like tune as his new wife sat shivering across from him at the table she had set for what should have been her wedding feast.

The maiden, who was an honest and blunt girl by nature, said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Your heart,” she said simply as if she was asking for no more than some salt for her soup, a piece of cloth for a dress.

Amazingly, Saul laughed, his laughter was filled with irony, but still it was a laugh, the fist such laugh that he had uttered out of his madness. “You do not know what you ask. Nor could I give it to you, for I have no heart to give. It died a long time ago with someone else that I loved dearly. Therefore, ask not for my heart, nor my love for I cannot give them to you. They are long forgotten, gone never again to return.”

“I am dead man walking, maiden whom I took to wife. Do you ask a corpse to eat? Would you give dry bones water to drink? I trow not. Therefore, do not seek to nurse the dead or heat their passions for their blood is cold, neither will they awaken, and I am one of them.”

“You may have the bed this night; I will not sleep here, but in the lean-to where I keep my shop. If you fear me over much, lock the door behind me. In fact, do so, for I no longer trust myself to any vow great or small, except one.”

~~~


Before day dawned each morning, Saul would be gone leaving his pale wife alone and sad. Days went past and slowly, the girl pale cheeks began to gain the luster of full of health, and her eyes once again sparkled. No one quiet knew what gave the girl the strength, or the joy she gained but each night as the lark settled in its nest, and the owl rustled its wings Lyra would silently bare the harsh words of Saul.

Perhaps, as a rabbit who lived under the cabin once told me, the strength came from the merry children, which came to visit her each day. Perhaps as the fox that in a stump contends, it was because she fixed a basket of bread for an old widow nearby with bread once a week. Perhaps as the house mouse gossips while sitting on our writing stool wearing her best Sunday bonnet, it was because she took comfort from the group of women she sewed on the evenings during the middle of the week.

Nevertheless, with some preference we refer to a gentle lady dove friend of ours who once silently whispered of missionary of Gilead.

The missionary had started a small church nearby and had invited everyone to come, including a lonely girl who stood in the far corner of the market where he made the announcement. The Enlayian priesthood had laughed, for they knew well no member of their church would not go because of the threat of death. Any who went to such a meeting would be thrown out of the Enlayian church than hung on the nearest tree, the proud hypocrites proclaimed as they boasted of their kindness to the Enlayia people to the Gildean missionary.

Yet, people did go at night when none could see, thinking none would go but themselves. Begging Saul’s permission to go on some little errand each night, Saul’s wife also secretly went standing in the corners of the church as she heard the missionary simply preached from a book that he called the word of God.

Then one night, the dove remembers well, the lone girl in the corner waited after everyone had left. There by the altar, the girl knelt next to the priest and asked him of his God. The priest with kindness took her hands in his, and there by the altar he led her to his Savior and King. Whispered prayers were said that night, and although the dove could not understand the girl’s word, she understood the plea in the maiden’s voice. She also by the joy in the girls eyes as she had left, that another child of this world had become the daughter of the Creator who had made all things, as the dove knew well.

The dove notes the beginning of the girl’s bright eyes, cheerful tones, and lighter step to that day. Whatever the cause or reason one thing was sure, the maiden was happy, caring, and full of purpose from that day on. The girl still patiently tried to help Saul and sturdily bore his ever-changing moods. Patience met Saul's fits of anger, tenderness comforted his sorrow, love conquered his hatred, and kindness dealt with his short fits of madness.

It was with sadness that the girl realized that with each passing day, a little of her hope and love her died while her pity for Saul grew until caring, tenderness, and pity mixed in a rich bittersweet drink.

As for Saul, he also went somewhere each night. A secret and hidden place, of which he had told no one, and if it had not been for one sharp eagle we would have never have heard the tale of where Saul went each night. At the back of orchard near the only willow tree on his property, Saul had hid something very precious to himself.

Each night he would go there allowing himself to fall to his knees near only willow tree on his property where would he allow himself to break the chilly shell in which he had surrounded himself. Slowly Saul would begin to dig, partly with his hands, partly with his shovel, a place in the ground that was marked by a small rock. His efforts would soon yield a small box that had carefully created over a month before. It was a small thing without much decoration, but Saul held close to bosom as if it was the most precious thing in the world to him. Slowly, revently, Saul opened the box and allowed the failing sunlight to shine on the contents of the box. Inside lay Lyra’s packs and the clothes, she had worn on the fateful day, but Saul had also hid something else in this box of memories. A small object was wrapped in the veil Lyra had worn on their wedding day.

Saul pressed the package to his lips and muttered a soft prayer half to himself and half to the God that had abounded in his grief. As the last rays of sunlight came from the horizon, Saul unwrapped the veil from around the object. It was small wooden carving that Saul had careful carved every time his brother was gone into the city during the two months Simeon had cared for him in his sickness.

The carving was the exact image of Lyra and within the wooden her minute features were recorded just they had been a month before her death. The statues hair flowed down her back as the figure looked down towards a small bulge in her stomach. One of her hands was pressed to her stomach that contained the child Saul had so much hoped for.

Each night Saul would cling it to his breast, and whisper to it as if in prayer. That tree had become a shrine to him, and Lyra the dead goddess who had replaced his living God.

Every night Saul would make his way to that willow, and every night the eagle would mark him sadly shaking his wise head at the foolish of men for denying the Creator who had made both eagles and men. A wiser eagle than he, he once concluded, would have to figure out the riddle of humans and their idols made by their own hands.

Saul knew that there had only been one reason that he had not searched for her bones or her killer before, and that reason was that Saul didn't even know who the man was. Even the memory of his attacker's face was dim to him, but no matter Saul was determined to overcome such trival matters. But for now, he had another reason for not leaving and that reason was his new wife.
Saul and his wife continued thus until a chilly September turned into an icy October. The lark ceased his singing as he heard Saul yell at the woman he had married as he told her of the rash vow he had made.

There in the cabin Saul's head was thrown back as his eyes filled with a resolute purpose, “I have vowed a vowed, to the Lord God Almighty, the true God, not the false one you worship with your dead traditions.” Saul said cruelly to his wife, while his filled with scorn for her, “I have sworn, and swear again, that I will not rest until I see Lyra's bones buried. Moreover, lo, I make another vow in your ears from which I will not be swayed. I swear that I will revenge Lyra for every drop of blood her killers spilt and repay threefold on their own heads. God do so and more unto me if I do not vow this vow."

Saul's wife stood cowering in the kitchen, shaking from head to toe from the pure wrath in Saul's fiery eyes that seemed to stare right through her very being.

"I have sworn not to leave desolate, and I have fulfilled that vow.” Saul said icily, “This bag of gold should suffix thee." Saul tossed the bag in his hand towards his wife, and grasping the axe that sat on the floor next the door Saul stomped out of the cabin into the darkness of the night.

~~~

The next day dawned was born bright and fair but a storm raged within the heart of one lone maiden as she stood on before her house. Saul had left had left a clear path for her to follow judging from the destruction before her in the woods. Saul’s path was marked with destruction and chaos, yet the girl’s heart longed to follow the man she had learned to love, forget, love again, and then pity.

Did she love Saul enough to follow him on a desperate quest? Looking back, the maiden realized that the emotion that she had first felt for Saul had been only a physical attraction and a respect for the man, not love. That the physical attraction she had once long ago felt had turned to pity. In a way, she now realized, she did love Saul but the way a mother loves her child or a sister loves her brother, not the way a woman loves her husband.

Perhaps that love would come, and Saul too would also learn to love her and they would have the children that were so important to both the Gildean and Enlayian mind. However, in order for even the chance of a hope of love to come pass, she would have to follow the one man that she had once loved and yet did not dare trust.

As the wind caressed her cheeks, the maiden’s eyes grew strong, her chin resolute, and her shoulders became thrown back. She would follow him, for within the few minutes of quiet competition that the knowledge struck that within her heart, she possessed the only thing that could heal Saul’s troubled mind. For the maiden now realized that she now knew the one who could heal all hurts and that only He could help her husband.

Yet something held her back, Saul was clearly dangerous and deadly. To follow him would be death, yet to not follow him would be death also. The traditions of her land would see to that, especially if Saul was found to be dead.


**DP: Should the Maiden, (yes I'm leaving her unnamed, but it's to a purpose) follow Saul? Or should stay?

Remember both ways have risk, and both ways have a high possibiltity of death.


Last edited by dinranwen on Mon Jul 03, 2006 4:29 am; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 8:33 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hmm, an interesting chapter. I think the unnamed maiden should follow Saul at a distance. Though it may endanger her, Saul may dangerous to those around him that he may encounter.
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PostPosted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 9:32 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Better to die trying to achieve happiness than have death come upon you through inaction. There's only one decision she can make. Risk it all to win it all.

Lovely development chapter Dinny. I look forward to reading the next installment.
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PostPosted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 1:50 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Go for it.
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PostPosted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 7:21 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

So far everyone seems to be on the same page but...the poll will be up soon, and yes I count post as votes so please post or vote!
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PostPosted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 11:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Another nice (and long) chapter Dina.

My only complaint is the many spelling errors in it. Try and read through your story and catch them if you would, it detracts from the enjoyment (for me).

Anyway, I f5 the others. Go!
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 12:09 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

One poll put up.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 10:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Is it possible that everyone here thinks alike? Well anyway, since the comments seem to be coming from the same direction, the next chapter well be posted either some time later tonight or tommorow. And don't worry...I spell check this one at least twice.

I'll keep the poll up just in case until the next chapter is ready to be put up just in case.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 7:10 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Everyone here seems to think along the same lines that I do, therefore...I'm going to go ahead post Chapter 3. But first I'm going off to do one last spell check. Also...be prepared for a surprised, the decision point is not what you think!
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 7:36 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote



Chapter 3: Winter’s Cheer

As the wind caressed her cheeks, the maiden’s eyes grew strong, her chin resolute, and her shoulders became thrown back.

She would follow him, for within the few minutes of quiet competition that the knowledge struck that within her heart, she possessed the only thing that could heal Saul’s troubled mind. For the maiden now realized that she now knew the one who could heal all hurts and that only He could help her husband.

With resolute shoulders, and purpose-filled mind, the maiden departed that day with much prayer into the wilderness following the path her husband had left.

~ ~ ~

Many beasts saw Saul’s passing in those weeks of traveling to the north and shivered. Saul traveled hard and fast to the High Hills situated in the middle of the northern boundary of Enlayia. To the east and north, the northern mountains ruled with their high and icy faces, and Saul’s journeys would often allow him to view those cold tyrants for months to come.

To the north and west lied the cloven pass of the Adrian River with one high cleft forming a hard stony door to guard the pass from the dry hilly Dundee lands to Enlayians wooden country. Saul’s battles had taken him to that door, but his journeys would never again take him to those places where much blood had been shed.



To the north of the High Hills was nothing but the Grey Clefts, stony cracks in which nothing grew and nobody went except the most desperate of bandits. Yet the brooks of the Grey Clefts fed the streams of that would later form the grand and beautiful falls of the Hill Hills.

Everywhere a traveler went in north, he would see the brooks, streams, and lakes those falls gave birth to. Stone, tree, water, grass, hill, and stream surrounded the northern boundaries that gave that part of the country a kind of majestic beauty all its own. Such was the country that Saul would cross over the next few months.

As for Saul’s wife, over the next two months she would follow hard after Saul through the wilderness of the north. Yet the animals did not shudder at her passing, but rather wondered over the quietness of one who seemed to be one with the woods wherein she walked.

As a true Enlayian, the maiden had long ago learn to walk quietly amidst the woods, and to hide disappear quickly behind tree or bush at the sight, sound, or smell of the smallest danger. The wood of Enlayia was still wild then, and the men knew the importance of teaching their sons, as well as their daughters, woodcraft. One never knew what lurked behind a tree in those days, and often the difference of life and death hung on how quick one could silently disappear. Yet, even all the woodcraft she had learned at the hands of her father could not help her find Saul as time went by.

November came and with it the bullhorn of winter was sounded throughout the land. Tired and dismayed, the maiden hopelessly turned back to find the main path through the woods as the world around her slowly turned cold and unforgiving in its cruelty.

Once upon that path, all she could do would be hope and pray. Like a lost child, she uttered her cries, and though she did not know it, yet her Merciful Father above heard her cries.

The maiden weary and cold was traveling alone when the storm finally hit.

Without hope of finding a city, the steady maiden bore the winds icy blows bowing herself like a reed before the storm in a humility not her own. Yet she did not give up, nor did she cease to trust her God.

The wind tore first at her hair, then at her cloak, then at her legs and arms until she was numb all over with pain she received from each of the blows. Still she went on, then as the snow started, become so thick that she could not even hope to see through the blanket of its veil, she saw just up of her a great light. Crying in joy and thanksgiving, she rushed to the door hoping beyond hope that here at last she could find shelter from the fury of the storm to come.



As the maiden pounded on the door, she noticed a cross decorating the top of the building and knew that the Lord had led her to a church. Gladness filled her, but then a doubt struck her mind. What if this church was run by one of the cruel orders of Enlayian priest who refused to give charity to anyone but rather forced the people to work in large fields for the priest sole benefit?

Nevertheless, it is a woman who greeted her finally, not a priest.

“Oh, your poor dear,” the lady said as she wrapped her arm around The maiden as she stepped outside to greet the child, “You come in right this moment, what’s a good girl like you have any business doing out in this kind of weather anyway?”

The maiden squinted trying in vain to make out whom this woman was in the snow that now swirled around them and into the lighted doorway beyond. The woman soon had her safely inside and quickly she shut the door before more snow came into the cozy building that was filled with warmth. As the woman turned around, the maiden was able to study her clearly for the first time.

The woman’s eyes were kind, twinkling blue and laughter seemed to fill the very depths of them. Her wrinkled face was pale, but her cheeks were a merry rose that would have suited any sunny lass. Grey strands of hair fell curly out of a loose bun giving the woman the appearance of being a general laughing mess. A pair of warm wrinkled hands were soon generously wrapped around her own as she was half walked, a half pulled to towards a large hearth that stood in the back of a large stone sanctuary. As she was pulled towards the roaring flames and forced to sit on a chair the woman dragged towards the hearth, she was subject the perhaps the funniest lecture in her entire life.

“It is quiet silly for one to go out in the snow, you know,” the woman chattered as her hands firmly tucked a blanket around the maiden, "What got into your head girl? Shame on your mother, too, does not her now better than to send her daughter to town alone and with a storm coming too.

"Probably without a proper breakfast too, look at ye, skinny as a stick. What were you doing anyway, out there all alone? Shouldn’t your father have come? Instead, he sent his daughter to do his duty for him. Why of all the nincompoop ideas I have heard, that is certainly the silliest. Where are you heading anyway? To the town, I spouse, for some reason or another. Well don’t you worry dear; we will have you fixed in no time.
Nevertheless, if I ever see your father, or mother, they will never hear the end of it from me. For I highly doubt that a smart girl like of you would have come out, and this far too for shame on them!

"No deary, I do not blame you. Now you just sit here in front of the fire, Aunt Beth will soon have a hot cup of tea ready in a jiffy.”

Aunt Beth’s talk continued in a low mumble as she went out toward the front of the church carrying a small pot with her. The occasional foolish, crazy, silly, stupid, nincompoop echoed clearly throughout out the room as Aunt Beth slowly walked away with a slight limp.

The maiden smiled, Aunt Beth might have seemed overwhelming at other times, but just now after following Saul for months this lady’s cheery silly kind of talk was exactly what she needed.

Pulling the wool blanket Aunt Beth had given close to her chin; the maiden took the time to study the church where she had come.

The building was made out of stone and wood beams, like most churches in Enlayia. Small narrow windows filled with covered glass decorated two sides of the windows. The maiden now sat in the back of the large room and she slowly turned her chair so she could see the entire building while still being close to the warm flames of the fire. Old wood benches worn smooth by ages of use lined the floor with their backs to her. In the front of the church facing her was a small wood pulpit that was barely more than a small desk on a single tall leg.

In front of this crudely made pulpit was a low table. On the table was a thick open book that had been carefully placed on top of small piece of white wool.

The church was strange in so many ways that the maiden could not quiet put her finger on. The very air of the church seemed to be filled with the same warm welcome that Beth and the fire had given her.

Although the building and the benches were the same as any other church, this building was different from any she had been in her entire life. Instead of rigid backs and unwelcoming seats, each of the wood benches had been carefully covered with coarse horsehair blankets in bright colors. There were no statues, costly ornaments, or gilded pillars here, instead thick woven hangings decorated the walls in between the windows. The scenes on these hangings were also different from any other she had seen. Instead of pictures of long dead saints, powerful pastors of history, images of a praying woman who they called the Chief of the Saints and the Queen of heaven, and morbid scenes of wrath or sorrow pictured on a distant savior who seem to condemn rather than forgive; other things filled these hangings.

The first was an image of a field on a summer night, or at least the maiden thought it was summer, for there were flowers and fruits on every tree in the picture. In that field, shepherds sat near the flock there faces full of fear as the looked on a patch of brightness of no particular shape but seemed to be filled with the hazy shapes of men with harps in their hands.

The next one was a picture of a group that surrounded a man in ragged dress who stood in a body of water that came to his waist. One man in the group, looking no different from the rest of them was in the middle of stepping forward towards the man to be baptized, or so she guessed.

In the next picture, a large group of people surrounded a hill on which the man, who had been in the previous picture, taught them. Another picture on the other side of the room was of a garden tomb with the stone that served as the door rolled back and another of those shinning men sat on top of the tomb his face full of joy as he spread is arms as if in greeting to someone the viewer could not see. The last one was a golden field of wheat where several reapers were steadily working among the fields.

The maiden did not understand what each of these pictures showed, but her mind was filled with curiosity and questions concerning them. The strangest thing that hit the maiden's confused mind was the fact that the pulpit of the preacher, which was set so high and lofty in Enlayian churches, was so humble here with as much grander as the benches where people sat. No gilding traced the pulpit, any prompt, any splendor, and the maiden felt in a strange way comforted by its humility.

The parson who ran this church could not be cruel or proud with a pulpit so crude. The maiden felt herself already trusting the man who she had not yet met, and looked forward to meeting him.

Aunt Beth soon came rushing in from the front of the church from one of the small doors that stood on either side of the pulpit. In her hands, a pail of water sloshed as she crossed the floor to the fire where the maiden sat.

She tried to stand to help her, but she was soon forced to sit down as Aunt Beth poured the water in a kettle that soon began to whistle a cheery tune.

The girl sighed as she snuggled the hot cup of tea that Aunt Beth had placed in her hands, gazing at the woman who had befriended her so quickly with a kind of lazy contentment. Aunt Beth seeming to have satisfied herself with her chatter early now sat quietly in another chair right across from the young woman she had found as she slowly sipped her tea and gazed into the fire.

As they finished their tea, Aunt Beth placed her cup on the floor and looked at the maiden as she silently waited, her hands patiently folded in her lap.

“Well, my dear” the woman said simply, “Are you going to tell me about yourself or do I have to keep guessing?” Although her words might have been taken to be unkind, or even nosy, the light in her merry eyes gentled them until one could tell that although this woman would take no nonsense, she truly cared for you and meant no harm.

The maiden sighed pushing the blanket away from her chin as she placed her cup on the floor. Could she trust this woman and tell her everything? Looking once more at Aunt Beth, The maiden knew she could.

Slowly and painful the maiden told her everything, beginning when she first fell in love with Saul. Bittersweet memories filled her mind as she told the woman about her sister’s marriage to Saul and the couple’s short year together. Then as tears began to well in her eyes, she told the woman of her own marriage to Saul and exactly what that meant.

She told the woman that her name was not really Lyra, and that she was now forced to live each day as Lyra, her now deceased sister, might have. She told Aunt Beth of her desire to have children and how that wished had been denied. She told the woman of the hurt she had experience during the month of living in Saul’s house before he had rashly left in fury and madness.

She told her of Saul’s cruel words and hasty vows of revenge in his grief. She told her how she had followed the man she had loved, knowing that he would need her if he got hurt or sick along the way.

As the girl who was called Lyra, but was not the Lyra, finished her tale, Aunt Beth stood up and held out her arms to the girl. Like a bird to her nest, the maiden flew into Beth’s comforting embrace and for a long time, she stood there weeping on the woman’s shoulder as Aunt Beth murmured sweet nothings in her ears while stroking the maiden’s hair softly.

How long they stood thus the maiden did not know, but when all the tears she had held within her had been shed, the maiden stood in her arms still simply enjoying the embrace of another living human being.

“Oh, dear I understand, I understand” Aunt Beth whispered in the maiden’s ears as she cuddled her close, “How very brave of you to take your sister’s name like that. I understand, now, my deary. Aunt Beth has loved more than once, that she has, that she has. Nevertheless, the Lord, He be kind my deary, more kind than I ever could have guessed. He gave Aunt Beth joy in her old age, can He not do so and more for you? Perhaps He will cure this husband of yours who is hurt, for your arts and knowledge can no longer heal Saul. Only the Lord can do that now, and perhaps He will, who knows? All you can do is pray. I will pray too, I’ll pray for the both of you that I will.”

Aunt Beth kindly pushed the maiden away, and held her at arms length, her keen gaze taking in the girls red eyes and haggard frame. “Food will have to wait till the morning, I guess. Come now, we will get you cleaned up and into bed in no time. You need your rest more than anything now, and old Beth, well, she’s got just the cure for that.”

Taking the maiden’s hand, Aunt Beth led her to a door that stood in between the windows where there was no hanging. “The kitchen and the garden are back through that door, just over there,” She said pointing to the door where she had come from with the water pail. “My husband and I, he’s the preacher you know, leave in a small room just behind that door over there. I think I am the only woman here that has a pastor’s office instead of sitting room, but that is fine with me. This door here, now this part of the building we keep just for our guest. This used to be an Enlayian nunnery, wouldn’t you know? Now my husband, and me we saw no use on getting rid of the bedrooms back here, one never knows when you will have an unexpected guest coming. However, we are especially pleased with the bath back here.

"Apparently, whoever built this building had found a hot spring, lucky him. Well, wouldn’t you know he built a room right over it and made it his bath? It’s really quiet wonderful, not having to boil water every time you want a hot bath. Now that is just the thing to fix you. After that, we will see about getting some blankets for a bed and some nightclothes if you do not have any. It’s a shame having to wear such dirty clothes all the time, especially when one’s body has gotten all clean.”

Aunt Beth led her to a door at the end of a long hall that was lined with several small doors on either side. There at the end of the hall, Aunt Beth led her to a door that was carefully shut tight. “Wait here, while I get the lights,” Aunt Beth said as she opened the door with a key that hung on her waist. Inside there were several large bowls of what appeared to brass. After Aunt Beth had filled each bowl with several logs, she carefully lit each one with a torch that was on the wall in the hallway.

Soon the room was filled with light, and what the maiden saw there was well worth the wait. Inside the ground was made of dirt, but in the center surrounded by rough middle-sized rocks was a small pool that bounced the light of the fires in wiggly lines around the room. Large mirrors that hung on the walls in their turn reflected the light merrily until the room seemed to be filled with a bouncy golden light that flooded one soul with the pure beauty of it. A small wooden bench near the waters edge held several bars of soap, and large fluffy towels that looked to be made of pure sheepskin. Finally, there in one corner of the room stood a beautiful screen showing a scene of brightly colored birds among the clouds. It was so fine and so well made that it seemed to be from Sel-nea itself.

Aunt Beth stood in the room her face gleaming proudly as she looked from the maiden back to the pool.

“It’s beautiful,” The maiden exclaimed in a hushed voice.

“Oh, it’s nothing my dear,” Aunt Beth said modestly, “It was all left to us you know, none of it’s ours you know. Except for this,” she said stroking the bench fondly, “This, my husband made for me a long time ago to sit out the garden, as I loved to do when I was young.” A small sweet shy smile gleamed on Aunt Beth’s face as fond memories filled her mind.

The smile remained when Aunt Beth pushed the maiden into the room towards the screen, “Well, make yourself comfortable, and leave you clothes in the hallway when you’re done, no arguments now. I will not see you wearing those filthy things for one more day. I leave a nightgown out in the hallway for you that I think is just your size, if a tad bit to short. People have the habit of leaving things here, you know, and I save them just in case they ever come in handy. It’s a good thing I do too; you wouldn’t believe the ragbags I’ve brought in.”

Soon the maiden was alone, her mind still recalling from the kindness Aunt Beth had offered to her repeatedly. Strange enough, the maiden could easily imagine what other people Aunt Beth had received, and knew that they had received the same welcome as she.

Giggling like a schoolgirl, the maiden quickly slipped into the pool, carefully leaving her clothes and bag out in the hall. Then she allowed herself the luxury of soaking for a long time in the hot spring that bubbled up from underneath the ground. A nightgown in the hall was ready by the time she peaked her head out, but Aunt Beth was nowhere to be seen. Slipping the loose nightgown overhead, the maiden felt the coarse fabric scratching slightly at her skin, but she was thankful for even this poor garment, for it was warm and made with care.

Many know there is nothing quiet like slipping into a new clean garment after weeks of traveling, even if one did not have the privilege of having a steaming bath. Then again, there is nothing quiet like slipping under nice thick warm covers of a bed after being treated to a bath, and a new set of clothes, which was exactly what the maiden did now. Walking quietly through the hall, the maiden slipped into the lighted bedroom door that Aunt Beth had left open especially for her.

The bed was hard, and especially lumping near the middle but it was not five minutes after the maiden was under the covers that she was fast asleep, more content, and comfortable than she would have been even in the palace of a king. She didn’t quiet know what exactly had made her so happy or content, but last thing she remembered before she slept were the kind blue eyes of her new friend.

~~~

The maiden awoke late the next morning to find the sun already shining through the small window in her room. On a chair already clean, dry, and neatly pressed where her clothes in a neat orderly pile. The maiden stretched lazily, reluctant to leave the bed where she had slept so well. The faint smell of cooking soon cured her of aversion however, when her stomach reminded her with loud growl of its presence. With a grin, the maiden got of bed merrily humming her favorite childhood hymn.

After washing her face, the maiden quickly slipped out of her borrowed nightgown into her own clothes. A loose long sleeve off-white under dress soon found it’s way over her head, but The maiden’s hand pausing in choosing which overdress to wear. She had worn her brown short sleeve overdress for weeks of journey, and although it was more serviceable in doing messy jobs or making long journeys, the maiden was loathed to put on the dress again.

After a moment pause, the maiden put her nicer blue overdress. A hint of green embroidery traced a vine of leaves at the neck and the hem. A bluish-green girdle completed her outfit, and severed as belt. A spare piece of leather soon had her hair into the bun of a married woman of Enlayia. Blushing at little at the extravagance of the outfit, the maiden went in search of the kitchen that Aunt Beth had told her about the day before.

Her steps echoed in the sanctuary as she walked through it quickly to the door on the right hand of the pulpit. As she opened the door, the smell of frying bacon greeted her searching nose and rumbling stomach. There on the left hand side of the room stood a small wood stove, where Aunt Beth now stood her clever hands deftly handling several pans at once. A square table stood near the center of the room, and bore several items on its surface. Another rectangular table ran the length of one wall and it was surrounded with several wood chairs, one of which was carefully padded with cushions. Seeing a bowl full of the familiar sight of rising bread, the maiden soon made herself, right at home and started to knead the soft dough.

“Make them into loafs if you can my dear, it is for dinner tonight. I am sure you and my husband with both enjoy a fresh loaf of bread. Oh, and set some aside to leaven, I’m seem to be running low.” Came the soft voice of Aunt Beth, hardly pausing in her business of frying eggs, large slices of ham, and making coffee to look over her shoulders at the maiden. Aunt Beth seemed to accept the maiden’s presence in her kitchen with the ease of one who knows the presence of another cook equal to their own skill.

The maiden smiled, and began to knead the dough back and forth in a motion that soothed the maiden’s mind.

Soon the two women were working in their own quiet efficient way, hardly seeming to get in the other one’s way. Rather they seemed to smoothly pass around each other as if they were performing some intricate dance.

As breakfast finished cooking, the maiden began to clean the center preparation table while Aunt Beth set the table for two. Soon the coffee kettle gave forth a clear whistle signalizing breakfast readiness. Aunt Beth deftly dealt out the fried ham and eggs on to thick slices of bread that had been baked by the day before. Placing the pans containing the left ham and eggs on the stove, Aunt Beth poured each of them a cup of coffee before sitting down in the padded chair that sat right next the maiden’s own place.

Aunt Beth folded her hands solemnly with her head bowed and began to pray aloud. Shocked at first by this strange new tradition, the maiden hesitated before finally bowing her own head. “Heavenly Father,” Aunt Beth prayed confidently, “We thank you for this day that you have so gracefully given to us and for the food that Thou have set before us this day. Watch over Samuel, Lord, and send him home safely and quickly. Be with him, Lord, as he goes about doing Thy work. Bless also dear Lord, my new friend, and let her come to know you if she does not my Lord. Watch, I pray, over her husband, and set your healing hand over him. In our Savior and Kings name we pray, Amen.”

“Amen,” The maiden weakly echoed her eyes misting with tears as she heard this prayer. She had not heard anyone pray in such a long time like that for her; at least not since the Gildean priest in Ebn-dar. Clearly, in her throat, the maiden asked, “Where’s your husband, the priest, anyway?”

“Oh I don’t know, but I don’t worry about a little thing like that. The Lord is more than able to watch over my Samuel without me worry over him. He went out a few days ago to talk to an older couple nearby, and to help them prepare for the storm. He said he would be back this morning, so I trust he will be. Besides it not like him to be late for breakfast, nor to let his eggs grow cold.”

As if Beth’s words had summoned it, a loud voice began to ring throughout the church followed by a distant shutting of a door.

“Rock of Ages, cleft for me…” sang the voice slightly off tune as it grew steadily louder while footsteps rung loudly as someone crossed the sanctuary. A ruddy face soon popped came through the doorway and a cheery old man half skipped, half walked into the room. “I hope you have breakfast ready and, wife of mine, or my stomach going to talk to you.”

The man said teasingly his voice sprinkled with laughter, as he stood with his hands on hips in mock anger in front of the door that now swung back and forth with his passing. A wrinkled old face was filled with laughter and joy as he peered lovingly at his wife. No beard grew on the craggy old face, but rather he was shaven like a man of Gilead. Thick gray eyebrows showed two gentle brown eyes, and a wide smile spread across his face nearly from ear to ear. As he removed his large hat, Samuel revealed a baldhead surrounded by short clearly gray hair on each side of his head.

“It will teach you not to be late for meals if you find it not so, husband mine.” Beth teased sternly, not rising from where she sat.

“What no hug, my love?” the man said his voice filled with a mocking hurt.

“If a man’s first words are for his stomach not for his wife, why should I greet him?” Aunt Beth now standing near her chair at the table. “I’ll not greet you with open arms in response to your greeting.”

“What if I chased you?” he said as he intimately stepped forward, his growing wider by the minute.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Aunt Beth exclaimed her eyes growing wide as she took a step backwards.

“Would I not?” he said taking another step forward.

“Samuel, behave yourself!” she exclaimed wagging a stern finger at her husband, “Can’t you see we have a guest?”

“That I do, and beautiful one at that.” Samuel said turning his attention to the mysterious young girl. “Good day my lady,” he said nodding his hoary head at her. “I am sorry we haven’t had a chance to properly meet as yet, but I’ll promise to do that after I have greeted my wife. Would you mind very much if I chased my wife around the room? I probably even kiss her after I catch her,” he said while waggling his eyebrows suggestively at his wife.

“Not at all, please proceed.” The maiden said with a small grin.

Aunt Beth looked at the girl in dismay, but then squealed as her husband began to do just what he said, chase his wife merrily around the room. The maiden sipped at her coffee as she tried very hard not to laugh at the old couple that was dashing around the room. Samuel finally did catch his wife, and proceeded to breathlessly kiss her while wrapping her close in a rib crunching close. Beth did not object much to his affection, but only playful slapped him before letting go to fix his plate.

‘So this is what is like to be in love? I wonder if I could ever have a marriage like theirs.’ The maiden thought to herself as Aunt Beth came blushing back to the table bearing a loaded plate for her husband. As soon as Samuel finished, he leaned back from the table with a contented sigh and turned his gaze to his young guest who know busied herself about the room with cleaning the kitchen.

“Come sit down, little one,” Samuel said his deep rich voice dripping sweetly. The maiden hesitated amidst her work looking from the mess to her hostess and back.

“Go on,” said Beth, giving her a little push towards the table. “You’re too pretty to soil. Go ahead and sit down. Talk to my husband for a while, I’ll handle the mess.”

“Yes, Aunt Beth,” The maiden sighed as she sent a smile over her shoulder at the kind old woman.

Samuel reached into his coat pockets brought a small creased Bible that was full of cracks and tears, the marks of a book, which had seen plenty of use. The simple careworn Bible was clearly precious to the man has he handled it tenderly and carefully as he placed on the clear spot before his plate.

The maiden sat down her hands folded in her lap as she waited expectantly for what the man had to say.

“When I find myself looking for a place to start, I always found that giving my name always helps,” Samuel said looking at the maiden his head cocking from side to side, as he studied the girl carefully. “My name is Samuel, what’s yours?” he said as he extended on callused hand in her direction.

“I have taken the name of my sister and become her husband’s wife. I am called Lyra now,” The maiden said hesitantly taking the hand the man had offered. His hands were large and warm as the seemed to wrap her own small hand completed in a gentle but firm in embrace.

“So Lyra is not your name?” he said looking at her curiously a thousand questions filling his eyes.

“It is what I am called now, yes. I have no other.” The maiden was confused. Surely this man knew of the Enlayian tradition? “Perhaps Aunt Beth can explain it better than I can later.”

The old man laughed at this shaking his baldhead back and forth. “She told you to call her that didn’t she? Does not surprise me in the least! I’ll ask her later then.” Samuel once again looking in the maiden’s eyes. His brown eyes were filled with a clear concern for her, although he did not know her or anything about her, yet there was a joy there also that seemed to come from somewhere deep within him.

“So, how did she find you, beautiful lady?”

“I pulled in from the storm last night wearing the thinnest cloak I’ve ever seen. Why I could have sworn that I saw the daylight coming right through it!” Aunt Beth put in as she stood at the counter drying a pot. “She’ll told all about herself Samuel, I’ll tell you about it later. I do not think the lady will want to drag those skeletons from her closet again. No best leave the question of where, how, and what for me later.”

The maiden looked down her eyes briefly mirror shame and grief that hid within the recess of her very soul. “It’s true; I do not wish to tell that story again. It is still to close to me as yet. Perhaps one day I will laugh at that but right now, the tears are right there waiting for me to shed them. Yet one most keep there eyes on the brighter side of things, I spouse there is no use for looking gloomy. I simply just cannot let myself dwell on those sad things. I’ve somehow got to find the strength and courage to go on; for I know somewhere out there someone might need me perhaps at this very moment.”

She paused, her eyes shinning with a new purpose, “I can tell you this much, dear sir, that I am a women who is looking for her husband who is so very lost in more ways than one. I also intend on leaving here as soon as possible to go in search for him. Don’t get me wrong,” she said as looked between Samuel and Beth anxiously, “I’ve enjoyed your kindness, very much so, and I am grateful for each of you because you have received me so kindly, but I simply must find my husband.”

“No harm meant my lady,” Samuel said calmly as he looked at her from where he was seated. “But you are not going anywhere today, and probably won’t leave here until a long time from now. The snow is almost waist high as a man walks out there and in some places, it is deeper. I had to practically shovel my whole way, which by the way is why I was late. There is no use in losing yourself in hopes of finding your husband out there. No we will simply have to watch, pray, and wait until the snow thaws. Until that time, you are welcome here as long as you need to be here.
Nevertheless, I have something else that I need to speak to you about.”

Samuel paused his wrinkled hands tenderly caressing the edges of the Bible before him. Samuel looked up his eyes full of tears and concern that the maiden knew was for her and for her alone. With that glance, the maiden felt herself pierced clean through as if her very heart was being turned over for careful examination with very glance. That glance also seemed to in her wounds, her hurts, her red eyes, her lean frame, and her hungry wounded heart.

“I am preacher of God’s word my child, and I must do the Lord’s work. I must ask you a simple question, Do you know the Lord as your savior, child?” Samuel eyes seem to fill themselves with a hurt all their own as he eagerly awaited the maiden’s answer.

“Is that all?” The maiden laughing asked, “I thought you were going to ask me for a confession or to tell you what sin I had done to deserve the trials I’ve suffered. It would have been just like a priest to ask that. My dear Samuel, what a blessing it is to hear that blessed question again. You’re from Gilead aren’t you?”

With Samuel’s confused nod, the maiden once again laughed her voice lifted with exaltation. “The Lord is indeed gracious. Instead of leading me to slaughters our priests have become, He has sent me to a true minister of his word.”

“Yes that explains a lot, including those hangings in your sanctuary. It has just been so long since I have seen there like that I just plan forgotten what they were. It also explains the welcome I have received instead of work and the accusations I expected. You simply must forgive my dear Samuel; I am simply just overwhelmed by the graciousness of the Lord to his lowly child. However, it has been so long since I have heard anything from His word that I fear I have forgotten everything I had been taught.

"To answer your question my precious priest-friend, I learned of the Lord from a Gilead priest when I was very young. I have forgotten what is like to have kindness instead of cruelty from the hands of the priest. What it is like to have the sweet fruit of the gospel truth preached instead being handed the foul rotten things I have been handed by others. Yes, I know the Lord although I fear I am far away from Him, but I am His child. If you will tell me more about this Lord of yours in Gilead, I will gladly listen. For I have learned to confess like a woman long ago, ‘for the LORD your God, he is God in heaven above, and in earth beneath.’ ”

“Joshua 2, the last part of verse 11.” Samuel murmured as his voice filling with exultation. “Praise the Lord that He led you here, never again will I say that the Lord abandons his children or forsake those who desire to learn of Him. Teach you about the Lord, gladly my child! My wife and I always hold a service on Sundays even if there are no others who come. Your are welcome to join us if you wish.”

“Yes!” The maiden said jumping up to wrap her arms around this wonderful man of God. “But can’t we start now?” came the pleading questions as she looked at Samuel and his Bible with hungry eyes.

“Certainly, my daughter. Keep in mind that we cannot stay in here all day; there is work to be done around here, even if we are kept inside by the heavy snow. Nevertheless, I am willing to teach you an hour each day after breakfast if I am able to. Would be willing to do that?”

“Most certainly, I am willing to listen to you at midnight if that was the only time you can spare. When can we start?”

Chuckling a little at the girl’s eagerness, Samuel opened his Bible. “Why not now? Where did you wish to start?”

“In the beginning,” The maiden said leaning back her eyes slowly shutting as she focused her whole attention on what this man of God had to say.

Samuel raised his eyebrows a little at this, but opened his Bible to Genesis 1:1 and began to read, “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.”

The next hour passed with little eruption from the maiden, except for an occasional question or a request for Samuel to repeat a particularly important or unclear verse.

In the end, both the maiden and Samuel found themselves hard pressed to stop until Aunt Beth gave them a gentle reminder of work to be done. Smiling wryly at Samuel, The maiden obediently went and changed into her brown over dress before returning to help Beth in her daily chores around the church.

The rest of the day, The maiden found herself humming the same tune Samuel had sung as he entered, not slowly or mournfully but in a kind of exaltation and joy that had bubbled into her soul as she as found that Samuel. These were the words of the first line of the song she sang that day:

Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood, From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure, Save form wrath and make me pure.

(Written by Augustus M. Toplady, and Composed by Thomas Hastings)

~~~

The maiden spent the rest of the winter in that small church. Each morning the maiden began her days in prayer and reading in God’s word. The rest of the day, the maiden helped Aunt Beth readily, eagerly listening for any words of wisdom Aunt Beth might utter.

Often she would dust their study while Samuel read his worn Bible aloud pretending that he was doing it for his sake and not hers. Gradually, the maiden learned to stop worrying about Saul and simply trusted the Lord take care of her husband during the long harsh winter.

As wonderful and as harsh as winter can be, it must end eventually. As time went on, the snow slowly began to melt, the air began to warm, and first signs of spring appeared. The maiden watched the approach of spring with regret for she knew that she must soon leave the loving couple who had become like grandparents to her.

Early that March, when the roads were almost completely clear of snow and relatively free of mud, the maiden, and Aunt Beth made there way to town. Aunt Beth needed several things from the local market for the kitchen larder, and The maiden hoped that her meager coin could supply what she would need to start of on her own again. The maiden knew that it would almost be impossible to track Saul now, but she had to at least try.

Around noon that day, The maiden was carefully examining a vendors supply of dried pork while Aunt Beth was in a Thatcher’s shop talking to him about the a leak in the churches roof.

Unsatisfied with the vendor’s wares and hefty prices, the maiden turned around to look at another cart nearby when she stopped completely in her tracks. Gasping a little, the maiden quickly went around to the other side of the chart and carefully peered out between the hanging meats this vendor had display. Across the street and a few carts away, Saul stood with his back toward her as he examined the daggers of stern looking blacksmith.

Her heart thumped loudly as she watched Saul walk away with a long blade, hoping that her husband had not seen her. It appeared that he had not for he walked briskly away from the black smithy without glancing in either direction. Casting a worried glance toward the shop where Aunt Beth was still busy, the maiden quickly tries to follow Saul. She would at least find out if Saul was staying in town, or find out which direction was headed. If she knew which direction Saul was going, the maiden had a better chance of hitting his tracks than picking a random direction.

The maiden was bustled, and bounced about as she tried desperately to keep up with Saul through the thick crowd. Soon though Saul was, leaving the main road and heading down a small allay that was lined with houses on either side. Breathing in relief to escape the press of the market, the maiden cautiously slipped several houses behind Saul as she could now see him clearly through the few people that traveled up and down this small narrow lane.

Slowly the sounds of the market faded, and the maiden followed Saul through many twist and turns until finally Saul entered a large building that appeared to be an inn. Glancing at the sign from across street, the maiden saw a large picture of pine tree with three crowns around its branches. Below the picture, the sign read proclaimed it’s name in common script, Gildean script, and Enlayian script. Looking past the other scripts the maiden did not speak or read, she glanced at the tall many branched letters that made up Enlayian script, “The Crowned Pine,” the sign read.

Slipping back the way she had come, the maiden made carefully not, of what streets she had to pass to get to this hotel and in what direction of the city did it lay. Once or twice, the maiden had to rely on others to give directions as she made her slow careful way back to the market. In a time entirely to short for her liking, the maiden found herself back within the crowded streets of the market place. Cringing at her rudeness for leaving Aunt Beth, The maiden hurriedly went back to the Thatcher’s shop hoping Aunt Beth would understand why she had left her behind.

Aunt Beth was sitting on a barrel outside the small shop when the maiden finally found her. “Good gracious my child! Think of scaring me like that,” Aunt Beth exclaimed as she caught sight of her young friend. “Where in the world did you go in such a hurry?”

The maiden quickly looked around and shook her head, “I’ll explain later, there are too many people to talk here. I’m almost done here, are you?”

Aunt Beth squinted one eye keenly at the girl, but let the issue drop. “I have a few more grocery items I need, but if you are going in the same direction I’d very much enjoy your company a little while longer.”

The maiden nodded and hoped that Saul would not come to the market again that day. The last thing she wanted was for Saul to see her especially with him not knowing about her following his footsteps over the past few months.

The rest of the shopping day was spent in silence as the two women hurriedly finished their shopping. It was not until they were on the small wooden path that led to the church until Aunt Beth finally asked where the maiden had been during her absence. Breathlessly, the maiden told Aunt Beth about seeing Saul, and the inn he was staying at.

“Are you sure it was him?” Aunt Beth said a secret light glinting in her eyes. With The maiden’s nod, she continued, “You’ll be wanting to leave soon I spouse? I love having ye here deary, but I will not lie to you. My heart is against you following this man against his will. It bodes no good to seeing him buy weapons in the market. Let me give you some advise my child: Either stay here or go home. You can’t do anything but starve by following him.’

The maiden stopped in her tracks looking in dismay at the older woman, “But I have to follow him! I don’t really have a choice, not now anyway.”

“Why?” Aunt Beth said simply turning to face the maiden both hands placed on her hips.

“Because…,” The maiden sighed, “There’s really no delicate way to put this is there?” The maiden paused looking upwards as she tried stop tears coming to eyes, “You already know that I have become my sister by my own will and by the vows I swore on my wedding day. There is a part of the vow that I have not told you of yet. I hoped I never would have told you. It is hard to understand, even I cannot understand this, and I am Enlayian. My sister is dead, that is a fact that I know very well. Yet if a priest heard me say that, I could be punished severally. To the priest eyes, and everyone else’s for that matter, I am Lyra. Nothing can change that.

"As far as they are concerned, there was only one daughter born to Bochim and his wife Mara, and her name was Lyra. The girl I was no longer exists to them because she never was. Still, the maiden is dead and her bones will probably never be found by any man. Even the church cannot change the fact of death.”

The maiden paused breathing deeply from sorrow and fury. “A long time ago, they made a provision that as long as the husband of deceased was alive, the deceased would be considered alive also through the woman who took her name. As soon as he died, the woman would be released from her vow. However, when she took her vow her name was struck off from every list, and she was considered as one who died at childbirth or one who had never been. The new provision did not change that, nor did it make her a provision to retake her name. Our lawmakers never change the law, nor did they ever make that provision.”

“Time passed, and no one ever did change the law. It has now become a tradition long held that when her husband dies, the woman will be released from her vow and she will no longer be her sister, but she will also never be able to be herself either. The woman had taken a vow that she was her sister, and that she no longer exist.

"The church, therefore, did not want the woman to break her vows by taking her name again. The fact that when her husband died, her sister was once again considered dead did not sway the churches mind. The woman would now be considered as one dead. For if she was considered to be sister while her husband was alive, why could she not consider being her dead sister when her husband had died.”

If my husband dies,” the maiden continued biting her lip briefly as tears started to drip down her cheeks, “I will be less than nothing. Worse still, though I may live for 50 years after he dies, everyone must view me as dead. I will not be able to buy, or sell, or speak to anyone. If I speak, no one will listen. If I enter a room, it will be as if I was not there. My own family will not be able to greet me, recognize me, or help me. If they do, they also will be considered dead, and the church will throw them out its doors forever. No, I cannot let my husband die, nor can I cease to follow him in hopes that I may be able to help him live if is wounded or sick.”

“How terribly, terribly cruel!” Aunt Beth exclaimed stomping one of her booted feet. “They can not do that, can they?”

“They can and they will.” The maiden said unemotionally her voice stale with disgust with the church she had been forced to attend for so long.

“Well, I understand now.” Aunt Beth said once again striding off at a brisk pace, “You’ll want to leave first thing tomorrow I guess. The best thing for you to do is to camp near the gate where he will likely leave. Probably the north gate, from what you told me. It will be easier to follow that way, and you will not have to depend so much on the chance of finding his tracks among all the others that exit the cities gates. Come now, Aunt Beth will help get ready.”

~~~

The next day, the maiden headed toward town with a pack far heavier than she expected it to be. Aunt Beth and Samuel had sent her away with more things than she could ever repay them for. Their parting had been filled with tears, but not with sorrow.

“You come back here if you are in any trouble, no matter what!” Samuel had said as he pushed an extra piece of bread into her hands for her to eat at midday. “I am not of the Enlayian church, nor of any other church that refuses it own. I am the Lord’s man and I will serve His children.”

Aunt Beth had also given her careful directions to houses of the people who secretly came to the church around the area. “The people are poor,” Aunt Beth warned, “and they cannot give you much. But they’ll provide a roof over your head if you have need.” Aunt Beth had also taught her the words to say to these people so they would know it had been Samuel and Beth who had sent this strange girl to their doorstep and not the Enlayian church spies.


As the sun turned everything into a world filled with vibrant colors and smells, the city of High Hills opened it’s gates with the sound of a trumpet and the unfurling of a flag depicting the hills just above where they town sat. The tall rocky hills were truly tall but their tops were flat and rounded by ages of wind. The proud stony knolls that the Enlayian called hills would have are called mountains by anybody farther south. Yet anyone who lived near the Northern Mountain Chain had to right to call all other mountains, hills if they wished.



The Northern Mountains were so tall, and so sharp faced that only the cloven feet of goats could only climb the very bottoms of these unyielding guardians of the northern reaches. One mountain just went straight up without even a crack in its sheer surface for miles above the trees and their snow covered tops stood high above the clouds.

Yet it was from the hills that glorious falls rushed forth every spring when the thaw came. The falls would come breaking through around the late days of March breaking the last barrier of ice that stood in the way of the icy courses.

The first fall was indeed a sight to see, and it had been this event that her now dead sister had wished to view when she was seven months pregnant. Her child would have been 10 months old now, if she had lived, the maiden thought as she sat watch the people going in and out of the gate from where she sat on a hill under a low-branched holly.

Saul left the city about noon leaving the main road as soon as he was able to leave the press of the gate. The maiden picked up her pack and the remains of her lunch, and began to follow her beloved husband once again. She followed Saul without him knowing, and he soon led their paths to the falls, which would be born soon as the month of March wore on.

We must leave Saul now, and travel back to Enlayia and further back in time, where we must travel to find someone whom, dear reader did not expect to meet, at least not meet again. We must go back, far back, before the time Simeon left Enlayia and before Saul lost all. Slipping behind the curtains, we must again travel across the lands to...


*DP...okay intermission time: To where or to whom does our story take us?


Last edited by dinranwen on Wed Aug 23, 2006 12:47 pm; edited 8 times in total
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 29, 2006 3:51 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I guess the obvious answer is to tell some of LYra's original tale. What brought her to the point where she died, was her marriage to Saul all that he now remembers it to be, or were there dark secrets hidden in the past?

Anyway, that's all I can come up wtih on this DP. 'Tis a hard one.

I very much like the tale you're weaving here, Dinranwen, but the spell/grammar checking is getting a bit sloppy. I'd recommend both running the new chapters through the Word checks, and reading them through two or three times before you post. I'm not the most finicky person on the site for typos and the like, so if I've noticed it, there may well be a few other readers who are tearing their hair out already Wink
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 29, 2006 5:39 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

You have some very nice imagery going in this chapter GG, I like it.

It seems you have run this one through a spelling checker, which makes it better, but still work to do. A few of the points I picked up on for example...

Quote:
Tired and dismayed, the maiden hopelessly turned back to find the main path through the woods as the world around her slowly turned cold and unforgiving in its cruelty.

Once .... cries.

The maiden weary and cold was traveling alone when it hit.

Without hope of finding a city, the steady maiden bore the winds icy blows bowing herself like a reed before the storm in a humility not her own. Yet she did not give up, nor did she cease to trust her God....


Rather a lot of uses of the word 'maiden' here, and later on as well. Try to find a few different words instead of it, use her name even, or 'she' more.

Quote:
Grey strands of hair fell curly out of a lose bun giving the woman the appearance of being a general laughing mess. A pair of warm wrinkled hands were soon generously wrapped around her own as she was half walked, a half pulled to towards a large hearth that stood in the back of a large stone sanctuary


Spellchecks won't spot words like these, which are incorrect in this context, so don't forget to watch for these too.

Quote:
does not her now better than to send her daughter to town alone


Muddled.

A plot thing here: It seems the children are taught woodcraft maybe, but not to bring warm clothes out with them in winter? Seems a bit, how can I put this? Silly. Would have been better if she lost her supplies in some accident or something. (Dunno what though).


Now, as for the DP, I totally f5 the Stoat. It has to be Lyra's tale, and who knows? Maybe she isn't dead after all, just for that twist. Confused

Keep working on this one, I like it, but again, you need to check your work more.

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PostPosted: Fri Jun 30, 2006 2:04 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

*Blushes* Sorry for the slobby spelling my word check doesn't pick up alot of my mistakes, and I guess that doing a read over at midnight isn't the best thing for the story. I'll read over the last 2 chapters a few more times, do the corrections if I can find them, and read through my next chapters five times just in case I use them. Reading through my story a couple more times should prevent more simple mistakes like the ones here.

Oh as for the 'maiden', I am trying to avoid naming here, because technically her name is Lyra now, but that was her younger sister's name. I thought that calling the 'maiden', Lyra, things could be a bit confusing. However, point taken, I will try to vary the name use a bit more.

As for the DP, I thought you would like it...and your right isn't what exactly what it seems. The next chapters as I orginally planned them will call to question everything you thought was true in the story. But great discussion so far, keep those comments coming.
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PostPosted: Sun Jul 02, 2006 7:47 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I like this story. You have a lot of good description and character development, and you're making progress on the spelling. Spell checkers don't find errors that are real words, but not the word you meant (like spouse for suppose, or quiet for quite). A grammar checker might find some of those, but don't take everything a grammar checker says as true - I understand they have a very simplistic approach to grammar.

I voted for looking for Lyra. I think she's not really dead, and don't know why he didn't check that out before! I suppose he just wasn't thinking clearly.
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PostPosted: Sun Jul 02, 2006 8:17 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I enjoyed reading the new chapter. I don't have anything to add right now to what has been said already.
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PostPosted: Mon Jul 03, 2006 4:43 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

This story has been spell check by the author twice, and the author hopes that she has found all the errors in the story. Some minor changes have also been made in the wording and the story itself.

The author hopes that by making these changes not only has she improved the grammer, the spelling, but also has enhanced the story and made it easier to read. If the author has missed anything in the story please tell her as soon as possible so she can make the approiate changes.

This story will hopefully be moved with a moderators permission to the main story forum. In with great expectation that the author antispates the apperance of this storygame in the main forum. Please look for this story, Tear Strung Lyre, in the fanstasy section of our wonderful city. ~ moderated

P.S. The next chapter will posted as soon as possible. It might take a little longer to write than previous chapters do to the fact that the vote results were different than the orginal story that was produced by the author before she moved to the City of If.

Thank you for your comments, advice, encouragement, and corrections.

Your Humble Servant,

Dinranwen
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PostPosted: Sun Jul 09, 2006 6:51 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 4: What Happened before, will be posted before this time Friday, so watch this post! I apolgize for have waited so long, I was hoping that by transfering this post to the main fantasy board, I would generate more interest, and thus more and different opions. However, majority rules, and although I was saving it for later, I have a surprise, that y'all can probably guess.

Drum roll please

*Big dramatic pause with complete silence and no drums sounding*

I said drum roll please.

*A tringale sounds*

Good enough! Lyra is indeed alive, but unlike some of you think this will not remain Lyra or Saul's story for long. But the next chapter will definatly take us to her, but not in the way you expect and definetly not where you expect.

The explanation of why this will be could perhaps be found in a little something I have written called, 'why I titled this story Tear Stung Lyre'. It's a mytophorical-nonsense-mobo-jumbo-poem-sort-of-thingy that would probably/definatly be included later in this story, but y'all will have to ask for it if you want it. *Waits for reponse on the trap, no bait, no wait that's not right, Extra tidbit thats it. And for millions of people to pound on this posting asking for the poem-sort-of-thing*

Until then, or until the next chapter, this has been me, Dinranwen.

Your not so humble, yes I know I'm toturing you, servant.
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PostPosted: Mon Jul 10, 2006 8:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

To help you understand the world and countries where this story is taking place, I will be placing two pictures in my personal gallery. They will be very very rough drafts of the final picture, but I hope that with them, you will understand Mian, the world where this story takes place, and Enlayia better.

So far I have the first draft of the world Map of Mian posted in my personal gallery. It's not very good, and definetly not final. But it serves its purpose in giving you I general idea of Mian.

I will also be posting a detailed as possible map of Enlayia, so that you will know where I am talking about as I continue in this story and trust me, you will need it.

But I like said, both pictures will be probably be rough and will be update as I continue with this story and hopefully others.

Well anyway, the world map of Mian is up. Here's something you should know to help with the map, Dendraen, is the land of the Dundee men.

~ ~ ~

You will notice that there is a door to If on the map, this may be useful as I am considering selling realastate in the world of Mian.

*Shamless Advertizing please skip unless your a serious buyers:

For those of you who will be interested in that sort of thing, I would be willing to send you I describition of whatever country you like. Each of the country's except Fandor and No man's Land, comes complete with culture, history, and geograph in place. As much detail as you want, for a price, because of course the more detail I would include, the more I would charge. I would even be willing to create up to 2 characters from your perfered country. However, I would have to insist that you maintain the orginal intergity of the country as I would own all rights in the World of Mian.

**Now for the rest of you, do you think this would be a good buisness idea? If not, oh well, it was just a thought.

~ ~ ~

Well anyway, the world map is up in my personal gallery if your interested in seeing it, and I will tell you when the map of Enlayia is up as soon as I post it.
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PostPosted: Fri Jul 14, 2006 8:30 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote



Chapter 4: In times past, Shadows walk

Slipping behind the curtains, we must again travel across the lands past the river of Andoria, fat beyond the forest wall into to the northwest of Enlayia just south of a place called the Wall to the town that would become to be known as Liberia. Liberia is a beautiful place, cleverly hidden within the recess of the hills, and careful built amidst the trees of the forest. The builders of Liberia were perhaps a different kind of man than their fellow countrymen, for unlike them the people of Liberia were lovers of trees, books, and knowledge.

Love of books combined with obsession with knowledge in what would soon come to be known as the Library of Liberia, a large building that would foster the building of the only University of Enlayia. However, those things are still future, and the library was still kept in several buildings, it vast amount of volumes still awaiting the large building even now under construction that would be their home.

As lover of trees, the people of Liberia would build the most beautiful city outside Sel-nea. This was because instead of clearing the trees from the area that would become their city, the builders of Liberia built around the trees, leaving whole areas of careful landscaped parks. Buildings where often built around, in between, and even in large trees. Large natural clearings held whole pockets of the town, so instead of a city one thought that Liberia was simply a cluster of small villages spread out for many miles in between large trees.

As for the road, paths lined the forest floor, but the only truly connected path that could reach the whole city was the trees themselves. Ropes, careful built ladders, and various types of bridges decorated the tops of trees creating the Tree Road, as it was called. It was truly was majestic, beautiful, and almost magical a place.

Yet the people of Liberia were the kinsman of their fellow Enlayians despite their differences and were not without there on faults. The people who settled in the place of Liberia where descendants of what could be called the noble class of Enlayia and within them, they bore every fault one could ever find in nobility. The people of Liberia were high minded, proud, hypocrites, and vain.

The nobility of Liberia was even worse than the lower born of the town, if such a thing was possible. The nobles of Liberia were master politicians, and they only possessed over half the seats in the Hall, the counsel that ran the country of Enlayia. Proud, arrogant, greedy, and cruel many of the nobles led double lives. A few were even know criminals living obvious lives of sin even the faces of the people who could not care. Only a handful of people dared resist their higher born nobility and their accompanying sins, and for that, that handful was persecuted severely. To make matters worse, the nobility of Liberia had their hands within the church, and within a few years, they would become the church.

Thus the corrupt nobility of Liberia, not content with knowledge, not content with beauty, not content with governmental power, would become the church and take the spiritual fate of their countrymen into their slimy filthy paws.

It is to such a place that we go. There within the midst of the city, a magnificent structure was built occupying a space so large, that eight trees were confined within its walls. The building was beautiful sculptured with great frescos carved within its plasters walls depicting tantalizing nymphs, dryads, naiads, and the native landscape of the area. Great open windows were covered with intricate lattices that were said to come from the Syrian, the last that had been delivered before Syrian had become impossible to find, before it even received the name of the Lost Isle.

The building was a blatant display of wealth and prompts and only barely exiled the pretentiousness of the owner. It was the home of Eros, the governor of Liberia, the possessor of the second seat of the Hall, and he was the secret power behind the Bishop Cadis, one of the most powerful men of the Enlayian priesthood.

Slipping past the mute eunuchs that make up Eros’ guard, we enter the courtyard, where Eros sits amidst silken cushions and dines upon extravagant dainties.

In the gate of the courtyard two hardened men eye everything surrounding them like sharp-eyed hawks as the carelessly fiddle with bared swords. Rough and unshaven they barely look like gentlemen, guards, or even men you would trust to be around you except in heavy chains and guarded. Yet Eros seems comfortable with these rough men for several other sit as his table beady-eyed men who eye everything with suspicion and a desperation that comes when one has experience absolute poverty and hunger.

Eros is a good-looking man in his way, and was proud of his looks, which had brought compliments from many a mistress. Striking brown eyes filled with pride, gluttony and greed, surveyed his court as slight smirk play on his thin lips. A sharp, pointed, but well turned nose pointed vividly out of his face making his eyes even more sharp and cruel. His pale sculptured face had only one fault, that of a puckered scar across the left of his cheek leaving for his face for the most part unmarked.

Eros owned all these hard-eyed men, and women, for he was indeed their familiar, their leader, and captain. Eros sits in the midst of theses hard desperate thieves, enthroned upon cushions as several scantly dressed maidens feed him dainties with their hands.

Several other maidens less favored surround Eros couch seated like hungry, neglected, abused dogs awaiting the master’s word, gesture, glance, or bread to be cast their way. Many other women their own eyes desperate as the men, sat on many of the men's laps as if they were merely ornaments for display, pets obedient to their masters wishes.

A kind of devotion shined in the men’s eyes as they looked at Eros, their master, their leader, and yet their brother, and fellow man, just as a kind of love shun in the eyes of the women as they gazed at the men whom the served. Yet just from a glance, you knew that each of the men would kill each other and even Eros without even so much as a blink, and the women would also.

The men were bandits, desperate men of whom Eros himself was the leader.

Past the hall where Eros was feeding, we slip down the right hallway going down for a while to where a broad arched door stands. The door was really no more than lattice, carefully carved with loops and whirls so beautifully that it was impossible to take the whole thing at once, but rather one has to look at one section at a time only to find the it’s section was as complicated and as beautiful in it’s own way. The door had been imported from the Searchen islands where it been carved from a rare and ancient wood. A Sel-nain most of made the work for although it was full of crevices not a single glimpse of the room behind it.

Inside cushions and rugs are thrown callously about upon the floor. Perfume from smoking candles and burning oils fills the room with a delicious yet intoxicating scent. All this made the sleeping rooms of the harem of Eros De Barear and its extravagance only hinted at the wealth that was invested in each exquisite woman that inhabited. Although the room was filled with light, the room was hazy with smoke, perfume, and only one window was open to let in fresh air and sunlight.

In the streaming light and breeze, one woman sits breathing deeply clearly enjoying the fresh air as lent her head out the window. Her long brown eyelashes brushed her cheek as she closed her eyes briefly as she filled her lungs deeply. Long straight light brown hair with glints with red caresses her cheek as the wind slowly toys with her hair making the haze behind her stream and twirl. Yellowish-green eyes as bright as the sun on a leaf are revealed as her eyes suddenly open with a snap. Turning around, she saw the reason she had been disturbed, and in her turning we can now see her full face and recognize her as the beautiful long lost Lyra.

An olive skinned man with angled eyes stood in the door way his legs akimbo as he callously held a squirming child of two years old. At the woman’s nod, the man strode callously in ignoring the scent and the appearance of the room. The man was tall, well muscled, and seemly as with all Eros’ servants. His barreled chest was bare and he wore the loose fitting tan trousers and red belt. Two large hoop earrings dangled from his ear, and the child he carried was trying very loudly to grab the glittery objects. On the man’s left arm, he bore a single tattoo the wrapped completely around bicep. The tattoo was singular in nature being a mixture of Enlayian and Common script bond together by an intricate braid. Such a mark was seen nowhere else except on Eros’s servants, for it was Eros’ signature of ownership, something which only slave owners were known to posses.

The man’s name, the woman did not know, but she knew his face. He was the Harem Master, being distinctly qualified as both a mute and eunuch, not to mention a Sel-nain peasant. As a Sel-nain, such a man could no better then slavery in the fields of the Turuch, the Sel-nain King, or working till his death in some other field for another lesser lord. Therefore being raised in a culture where slavery was such a common thing for the poor, he could not have hoped for a better position than a harem master and as such, he was grateful. This gratefulness made the man loyal, if not exactly obedient, to his master.

Lyra smiled at the man as she took the chattering child, as the boy started to babble nonsense as many his age do. Lyra smiled softly at the slightly fussy child, and gestured the harem master away with a wave of a hand.

Being Eros’ favorite among other things, bought her a few precious hours with her son, and those hours although bought dear were worth every second. Such rare gems of time, Lyra thought, were not to be wasted in the sharing of them with any others, at least not with a stranger who only helped in your imprisonment.

Whispering in the child’s ear, Lyra once again resumed her seat in the window, pulling the boy tight. The boy who was Saul’s son gave no objection to this cuddling as most his age might have, for although only the tender age of two, he to understood that the times with his mother were both few and precious.

Stroking the boy’s hair, Lyra began to softly sing a lullaby, which her mother had sung, a melody that haunted her still, even within the walls of the prison chamber. Closing her eyes, she and her child let the enchantment of the words sweep over them and take them to a place far away from there present dwelling and father away than they ever had been.

“Hush my child, for far away in dark deeps wood are hiding.
Stories dear, they linger there and in the trees, they are sleeping,” high and sweet came Lyra’s voice rich with the magic and emotion which thrilled her very soul with a longing, a deep and ever burning longing. Pausing briefly, tears gather in the corners of eyes as she continued her haunting melody.

“Hush, my babe, and I will tell, one so sweet that makes things well,
Hush my child and I will sing, of a maiden and a king…” The song hanged in the air with a sense of incompletion, the feeling of tale not quite complete, but Lyra did not stop without a cause, for a the door had slammed open with a great resounding echo and within the door stood the figure of a man not in a pleasant mood. Looking towards the door, Lyra saw the one man whom she hated the most but was forced to pretend to love, Eros.

Eros strode over to where Lyra was sitting, growling as he stopped only two paces from where she sat. Instinctively Lyra and her son clung tighter to each other; waiting for the storm, they knew was coming.

“I thought I told you to sing no more to the boy,” Eros growled. “You will make a coward with all this nonsense of faerie tales and lullabies. And no son of mine will ever be a coward.”

“Perhaps,” Lyra said sagely as she glared at Eros with all her might, “it is a good thing that this child is not thy son, but mine and I shall do as I please with him.”

Eros’ face briefly flamed red as fury and rage played across his well-sculptured features, but then with a slight quirk showing on the left corner of his moth, Eros threw his head back and laughed. “I knew there was a reason, I let thee keep thy tongue besides thy beautiful voice. How you do make me to laugh! Come I will forgive thee if only you promise me to sing a lullaby to me this night?” The question was innocent in word enough, but Eros’ glinting eyes hinted at other things.

“Only if you pay me my full,” Lyra said relaxing her grip on her son. “You owe me a tale, or I’ll keep your ring for it.” This Lyra said impatiently toying with a golden ring bravely set with a brilliant sapphire, Eros’ chosen stone. These little games that she and Eros’ played were like an elaborate chess match where no one ever one but only found themselves more challenged at every turn. Lyra did not enjoy these games, yet play she must and she had to become a skillful player if she wished to spare her and her son’s life.

“So be it then, but send the boy away, I will not have him disturb my tale.” Eros said as he sprawled himself on the nearest couch daintily dipping his hand in a bowl full of fruits that stood nearby.

Lyra was wroth to send her son away, but knowing she would risk Eros’ displeasure, she sent her son of to seek the harem master who severed as his teacher.

“Now my pet,” Eros purred, “Come and sit closer to me, and ask for the favorite tale. And as I tell it, I bid thee to fan me and feed me dates from this bowl.”

Briefly making a wry face, Lyra went to obey her master’s orders, but then sweetly smiled as she asked, “The story I ask is one that I have asked for before, but thou has never told me it either in secret or in public. Tell me now, of how you captured me and why thou didst so hastily bare me away from my previous,” her Lyra sighed and said what was necessary but untrue, “but unbeloved past husband, May heaven never let rest his soul.”

Luckily, for her, Eros seemed to be an agreeable mood rather than the foul ones he had seemed to be in when she asked him before times for this particular story.

“I will tell, oh thou favored one, for I am in a mood to smile upon thy silly whims, but there shall be a price latter, which I expect to be paid in full.” Eros smiled, but Lyra frowned as set to work in her fanning and feeding her hated master.

“It happened upon a time,” for so began all Enlayian tales, “that the sun rose bright upon my glory and everything smiled and prospered in my hands. However, not all was well. For the sun appeared dark in my second-man, my right hand, Capton, for he was jealous of me as he had no right to ought. It came it upon his mind that his Lord Eros was unfair in his dealings with him and the other men in the little band that makes my closest friend.

Smiling, and leaning in sweetly, he called, ‘Master Bandito,’ for such is my name amidst my dearest friends and companions, “thou hast more women then one man can keep to thy self, but we and the other men we have none other than the ones we have rightfully one in fair battle. ‘Come then, share with us your women.’

‘You must be blind, Capton,’ I said to him,” Eros continued. “For if you would open thy eyes thou could plainly see that I am 5 women to short to provide each man his own, and that spares me none. Now then, behold if thou canst provide the lack and five more beside, I will give thee the right to grant each man one according to his standing, and to keep to thyself such woman as thou desire.’

“The world then became bright in Capton’s eyes and seeing opportunity for his greed, he once more leaned close to my side in his eagerness to relate his words. ‘A wager then,’ Capton said, his face showing the treachery he had planned. ‘We will make a bet, you and I, to see who can bring in ten one the fastest. Whosoever brings their women back first, shall appoint all the woman to the men as he sees fit and keep thy harem, a harem which is so fair and beautiful no like has ever been seen.’ This Capton said hoping to gain my harem by trickery. But I saw through his false face, and behind it I saw opportunity.”

‘A higher wager, will I offer thee. Whosoever who brings back ten women first, not only shall have all the women to assign as his pleasure, but the last one to return with his women shall be cast out in shame, and the first shall have the master of this band of friends.’

“Thus it was agreed,” Eros, said smiling as he accepted yet another date from Lyra’s hand, “The conditions were simple, no woman from the city of Liberia could be taken, the all the women had to have something precious in or on their person, and all the women had to have a mark to confirm they had been taken forcibly. Such conditions were easy for me to achieve, and with the help of my Aunt Silverrod, I was able to obtain ten women without interference from any authority. Since dear Auntie is the second chair in the Great Hall, they dare not interfere with her, nor her nephew, especially when the nephew bears a document in his hand that excuses all crime that I have committed and any crime that I might commit in the next five years. I have power you see, my sweet, of this you should be grateful.”

“Well, it came to pass, that one fine evening as I was hunting I happened to stumble upon you and your husband sporting near the fall called the Stair. One look at thy fair face was it took to convince me. You had to be mine or I would die in longing for thy beauty. So without further ado, I captured thee and left your husband slain in his own blood.”

Lyra’s eyes snapped wide as she let the palm fan in her hand drop to floor with a clatter, as her hands went briskly to her mouth vainly tried to conceal the gasp, which escaped from her mouth.

“You killed my husband, but when you captured me, you told me you wouldn’t kill him if I went with you peaceably.” Lyra’s face had turned deadly pale with rage.

Eros’ shrugged, “So I lied. But you are happy with me, and you wish the scoundrel dead if you knew he was alive, wouldn’t you?” Eros’ eyes glittered dangerously as he watched his favored Lyra’s face.

“Yes, of course,” Lyra’s said nodding her head as one in a very bad dream. “Let me get you a drink my Lord, and then I shall serve my duty to you.”

Eros’ slipped back on the couch apparently satisfied with Lyra’s answer, and pleased with the prospect of the hours before him.

Secretly however, Lyra was thinking other things. “How dare he lie to me?” Lyra thought as she carefully poured wine into the crystal chalices that stood on a great serving at the other end of the room. As she looked backwards, her eye happened to fall on a certain bottle that her fellow harem mate happened to keep near her pillow. The poor girl would often use the bottle, for in it there was a powerful sleeping draught. One or two drops of the powerful potion was all one needed to have a good nights rest. “Imagine what the whole bottle could do,” Lyra thought silently to herself.

Lyra looked further back towards Eros’ who was stretching himself comfortably amidst the pillows on his private couch. Although Eros’ eyes were closed, Lyra knew that he could open them any minute. Dared she try to pour some in Eros’ glass? Perhaps she could steal away while he was sleeping. However, there were the guards and servants to deal with, and how would she explain herself to them? Lyra’s mind was furious, one part of her urged caution, one flew in anxiety crying desperately for her freedom, and one dark corner of her mind began to whisper words of revenge.


DP: Should she do it? Please keep in mind all the dangers involved with her action. And more importantly, if she does it, will she get a way with it? On my part, I would say even she tried to drug Eros into a deep dark sleep, she still wouldn't get away with it. But that's not up to me, that's up to you! As of consequence, Please Post!


Last edited by dinranwen on Sat Aug 05, 2006 3:01 pm; edited 1 time in total
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