spam is the mind killer and it I must not read

it is the little death that occupies the screen.

I will not read the spam, i will delete it with vindictive glee.

I will not send in for my free disney vacation.

I will not believe I need to impress my girlfriend.

I will not accept 42 million dollars from the daughter of the former minister of east gamboolo

I will not believe operators are standing by to offer me a zero percent re-financing on my house.

I will not send away for my free television, stereo, groceries, or gasoline.

I will not heed the spam, tho it be many and plentiful and comes forth from every direction

Spam is the mind killer and it I must not read…

“So, Boy, how is it you have forgotten the most basic thing I ever taught you?”

The voice was stern, edged with mild amusement, and laced with a timeless wisdom. The Student bowed his head before the Eldest, a faint glow rising about his cheeks.

“I am sorry, Elder, I see to have gotten carried away by all the troubles in the world…but what makes you come to me this day in this way?”

The mild plaintiff note in the Student’s voice did not go unheard by the Eldest, who smiled inwardly. This one had always ruffled a bit too easily at injustices, however slight.

“Boy. When you dwell in the sorrows of the world overmuch I can hear the keening throughout the Otherwhen. All the Old Ones are disturbed by the power of a strong empathy gone astray, and Me more than most. And when I draw near, I can see the violet in your eyes and aura. Why are you flirting with despair in such a way. You know to embrace it is ruination for any….and when you do it….ruination for us all.”

Stern tones had melted away into concern, and the Student looked up into the timeless eyes considering him.

“I know it is wrong, Eldest, but I cannot help but Feel the sorrows that rise. There are so many….”

Nodding, the Elder paced to the open marble veranda and looked out over the clouds below.

“True enough, Student, true enough. But cast your eyes over there…West and south of the greater inland seas, where cities and rivers meet. Yes. There. You will see something there I can only faintly feel from afar. You will feel it deeply….”

The Elder was smiling at his Student, and waves of warm kinship enfolded the younger.

Blinking in surprise, the Student cast his heartgaze over the leagues to where the Eldest had indicated.

“Eons above!……there is a light there. It shines so brightly across all the planes…
Why is it so bright to me when I have but a fraction of Your power?”

“Ahh, then, that would be because it is a She, and She shines for you….So, tell me again about the great despairs in your visions….”

A murmuring ensued from the student, whose eyes had faded from violet to a rich emerald green….

“She shines…..for me…..Despair? What Despair?”

finis

Hansel and Gretel, Part II
© 2005 George Reed

The first of my kind, and the last of my line…
Foundations set on hope, and roots built of time…
Never was the soul who could pass beyond my call…
Woven in my thatching waits an answer to all…

Once my hearth was warm and blessed with burning cheer…
Magic in the hues that brightened through the years…
Sorcery of ancient times slumbered in my yard…
Until the evil morning when the witch came from afar…

She found a happy dwelling where need was met as swift…
As fleeting thought could name it, such were all my gifts…
Powers dark had she, and used them to effect…
Make me a summons that no child could reject…

Gingered-bread and sugared-glass would call them all to me…
Brightly painted sweets would never let them see…
The doom that must await them in a magic hearth…
For dire were her powers, she had mastered evil arts…

Many gypsies wandered and were rumored to be lost…
When really they had blundered to my door and learned the cost…
Many were the children who would have none of their own…
Their souls forever trapped within the hearth of ancient home…

It fell one eve the witch had sent her raven through the night…
To whisper tales of treats for those who came to see the sight…
A boy and a young girl wandered at the ravens call…
They took one look and fell beneath the spell of ginger walls…

A kindly woman drew them in to sample treats inside…
The children never noticed, then, the hunger in her eyes…
We are Hans and Gretel, the little girl said…
Who lost became in forest dark, filled with every dread…

A wonder that you made it then, safely to my door…
The evil one whispered as they crumpled to the floor…
The gingered cake she fed them had sent them off to sleep…
While evil rite prepared there souls herein to keep…

They lay where they had fallen, dead to all the world…
Although awareness slowly came back into the girl…
Cleverly she never moved as words came to her mind…
Listen well, young Gretel fair, and freedom you will find…

While evil witch has gone outside to mend the nibbled house…
You must sneak to kitchen there as quiet as a mouse…
Place some magic ginger in the evil witch’s tea…
And when she drinks and quickly sinks we’ll have a victory…

Gretel eased across the house as brother slumbered on…
She found the tea as Hans was rising upwards with a yawn…
Get back down and play asleep if ever you would see…
Another morning sunrise out beneath the Summr Tree!

Gretel wisely stirred the tea, and went back to the floor…
Resuming her position as a key turned in the door…
Evil crone came back in side, humming to herself…
Thinking of a roasting, took her tea down off the shelf…

One sip of tea, and then one more, and stricken was her face…
Evil one knew she was done and took the children’s place…
Gretel stood and Hans arose cheering with a roar…
Standing there and smiling at the Witch upon the floor…

My voiced coursed then inside them and told them of the deed…
The one that could free them and end my endless need…
Slumbering the witch was placed to roast upon the hearth…
Hansel and then Gretel passed the door into the dark…

Come the dawn there was no house or witch within the wood…
A silver seed lay on the ground, bright with inner good…
Gretel took it up and planted silver seed with love…
Hans placed water on the place and heard the wind above…

A moment later came a flash and both of them could see…
A twin was born identical to the Summer Tree…
Save for leaves of silver and a bark of snowy white…
Another Summer Tree was born out of an evil night…

Twas then a rustling in the wood bespoke of an approach…
Hans and Gretel shook with fear expecting witch’s ghost…
But father brave had kept his oath and found the two at last…
He brought his children close to him without a question asked…

The first of my kind, and the second of my line…
Foundations set on hope, and roots built of time…
Never was the soul who could pass beyond my call…
Woven in my branches new beginnings for us all…

Hansel and Gretel, Part I
© 2005 George Reed

In deeping forest far away where deer and fox run free…
In shadowed glade a promise made to cherish equally…
A love anew and future bright and children close at hand…
A promise made to all who share the glade wherein I stand…

He cut his wood with careful blade and only with a need…
Taking little, but enough to sell that he could feed…
His children, two, and second wife whose eyes were bright and fair…
In my glade I was impressed the cutter took such care…

The mother of his children had tended me for years…
Always caring and often sharing laughter and her tears…
I also watcher her tend her young, a girl and a boy…
Hansel bold and Gretel bright—my forest knew their name…

Befell one day ‘neath clouds of grey the mother came to me…
Her children but three seasons old beneath a Summer Tree…
She bade to me a sad farewell and thanked me then for all…
The many hours in my glade, but soon must heed the call…

That comes to all of Adam’s sons, and too, the young of Eve…
When heaven says the path is done, a mortal has to leave…
I never saw her back again, my branches hung with grief…
In her honor forth I sent bright hues into each leaf…

The cutter came a season hence when spring at last returned…
As asked for my blessings in a new life that he yearned…
A new life come, a new wife won, a mother for his two…
He swore an oath of father’s love eternally and true…

I whispered to him in that glade on brilliant springly morn…
The path between his new love and the first love’s children born…
He swore his oath and meant it well, and blessed then was he…
But woe betide if ever he betrayed a Summer Tree…

For a season, and then two, I knew that all was well…
The family near me grew and thrived in loving summer spells…
But, anon, there came a wind and I knew its name…
The hue was green and jealousy had grown from spark to flame…

A new wife fair wanted there to have her own newborn…
The cutter told her they could barely four of them keep warm…
She begged of him to send the young to seek out on their own…
Saying many creatures wild, at five, are mostly grown…

He set to take his family out beneath my shade…
They lingered there for many hours in the summer glade…
While the children dozed away beyond the nooning hour…
The new wife set upon the man to bring him in her power…

“Take the children deeper now into the ancient wood…
And steal away at end of day and they are gone for good…”
Cutter was not with pleased at this but thought to ease her wrath…
He took his children far away, marking well the path..

With pebbles that he knew would shine out clearly by moonlight…
Before he left his children there he bade them wait for night…
Most afraid the children made to wait ‘til sun went down…
No little joy was felt by them when pebbled path they found…

No little wrath was felt next day when swift into their keep…
Hansel bold, and Gretel bright, came to their father’s relief…
But his wife as one might guess wasn’t pleased to see…
The children safely home again beneath a Summer Tree…

She made him take them out again, no pebbles in his hand…
But he was sly, letting bread crumbs fall where they might land…
Although not bright, crumbs are white– moon would let them see…
Their way at dark along the paths unto a Summer Tree…

The wife was sly and standing by and saw there what was done…
I knew by words she had with birds that battle had begun…
The birds flew out and ate the crumbs and thusly took the trail…
The Cutter made it home but in the dark the children failed…

In morning’s light I saw them both standing at the door…
Guilt had flowered in the wife, her eyes down at the floor…
She bade him go and bring them back from an evil fate…
But even as he left I knew the Cutter was too late…

My roots run deep and much I see that passed in the land…
And if they ever came back home , would not be Cutter’s hand…
That set them free from cruelties, nor saved them from the fire…
His journey failed…I heard them wail at what of late transpired…

I whispered to them in my glade whose oath had to me bound…
No joy or child might ever come until the two were found…
His axes dulled, her planting spoiled, such lessons they would see…
Await the foolish who betray an oath to Summer Tree…

It came to pass in the late fourteenth year of the society of the grande tournament–more commonly known as the Society for Creative Anachrowhatsits–that a tournament was held in a lovely park in a quiet part of the modern world known to many in the arcane tongues as Monterey.

As luck would have it this self-same tournament was more than the usual jumble of friendly folk contesting their wills and the honor of a lady’s favor. Upon this day, in this place, on this field, the question of what lord and lady would next inspire the Mists to the greater glory of the Western seat would be answered once and for all.

To this enchanted spaced hied many and sundry folk from all walks and callings. Kings and Dukes, and Counts, and Knights, and bedazzling ladies of highest comport arrived in their sedan chairs and divers other manners of travel.

One fairly unknown fellow in this lot was a tall, slender moor by the name of faheud. Whilst he had been seen of late in the famed Headless House practices–which fighting household spawned such as James Greyhelm and William the Lucky and myriad other ducal personages–little was known of this faheud other than he was Hilary’s great experiment.

As the fighters and consorts progressed and at the very end of the precedence came lord faheud and the lady Evanthea, the heralds mispronounced the names and passed them quietly past the Western Dais. Little thought was given to these matters for many a stalwart fellow had come to compete for the honor of being the twentieth to rule the Mists.

As the day progressed, some folk began to noticed that in the blue eric, the one called fadl, erm foodle., oh yes, faheud, was showing an annoying habit of winning. Sir Stephen fell, then Viscount Amaranth. next fell Count Richard and Duke William. What fell spirit had entered the youngsters blade that day to take him so easily into the semi-final round?

Next in the listing came the famed Duke Paul who would make short work of the upstart and return the Mists to the roads well traveled. But wait! It seemed that Duke Paul had sprung a grievous leak and lie upon the ground. How had that happened. Again, as after each bout, faheud walked to the side where his friend stood by his lady, took from him a rose to give her, and asked permission to carry her favor into the next round.

It seems that permission was again granted, and he took the field in a best of one final against Sir Thomas the Incomplete. Syr Hilary took faheud aside and warned him of the lightning first strike Thomas always made.

” Never look around the shield until you hear his sword strike it after lay on!”

The heralds made their pronouncements that Sir Thomas would meet lord Fahemid in the finals. Faheud did not flinch, though, for his eyes were on his lady, who now held eleven roses.

The marshals cried Lay On! For no reason he has ever been able to ascertain, faheud surveyed the field and saw a pair of unfortunate and unhappy things. First was the stern gaze of Syr Hiliary. Second was the black edge of Syr Thomas’ sword striking his face plate.

Thomas won the day and became the Prince of the Mists and ruled well with Trista de Cordoba, a well beloved lady by all.

That evening faheud’s consort presented him with a locket containing a petal from each of the eleven roses, saying”You did not give to me the golden prize, but what other lady here received eleven roses in such honorable adoration?”

While faheud never again ascended that deep into a mighty list, he has not forgotten a lady’s words and the measure of small gifts over large deeds.

As I prepare to pack for Estrella XXI, I am reminded inescapably of the last Estrella to which I travelled, so many years ago. It is not that it was so tremendous a time of great deeds or accomplishments for me–though as a bard I made something of a breakthrough to a new level. It was a great adventure because for the first time Chateau Teafort {the Fort Irwin SCA Household and northern portion of Al-Sahid} was making the trek en masse and in large numbers. For the first time we were appearing on a major battlefield as a liveried unit. The ragtag bunch of scadians told there ‘was no sca north of the mountains in the desert’ had bloomed from 5 to 46 members, 41 of which were armored and authorized.

The trip out was with little incident, and we arrived in the waning hours of afternoon. All of us checked in with enthusiasm, set up our circle of period pavilions around the Great Teafort Pavise–a 40×40 x19 red/white/black circus pavilion. Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to that when Rislane and Lysandra moved to Atlantia and it went with them…but that is another tale.

We had nothing modern visible in the Pavise. all period chairs, tables, lamps, andles, hangings. Carpets strewn in moorish style. Guesting food and drink at the entrances. As the sun set, you could see the lights within like stained glass from the dark outside. Lysandra strummed her rosewood harp into the night and it was audible for miles.

In those days Estrella began thursday and ended monday morning. It was a long time ago to be true. The war was Caid versus Atenveldt. Caid had never won. This particular year was the first reign of Guy and Darla, whose roman reign was bordered on wild enthusiasm and iconoclastic ceremony. The War general was Duke Armand de Sevigny, who had been the first King of Caid. His lady Duchess Diana De Sevigny ran the Arts and Sciences war points.

We sat around the pavise singing the five or six songs we knew well. Nothing like the endless song books of today. I had a couple pieces I had written, but was terrified to ever let anyone see or hear them. In those days I memorised everyone else’s work. Someone in jeans and a t-shirt poked his head in and said”Wow, man, this is a totally cool encampment! What barony is this?”We alowed as we were not in fact a barony, but a small part of an incipient shire and no one important.

The visitor’s eyes did not miss the 41 sets of armor on armor stands, with red and white quarterly tabards and stars counterchanged {now the fanucci device}.”Who are you fighting for?”he asked.

” Caid. We fight for the new King of Caid, Guy. Haven’t met him though,”pipes up Rislane, my second in command.

I winced as the smiling man in coke bottle rim glasses said”You have now. Come see me on the battlefield.”

So we shoo everyone off to bed to get a good rest before the first day of fighting and awoke to the sun with everyone else. By 8:30 am we were armored up {we had not learned about sca war time vs real time}. In the US Army, 0830 means 0-goddamned -8-30. Not at Estrella V.

So there we are out on the battlefield, all lined up in our Alfred the Great Triangle Formation, back behind the Bukelari brigade. A man in nifty roman armor comes bounding up and introduces himself as Baron Joseph of Nordwache. Would we like to accompany him to see the king? So we lined up in double file and marched on over there, singing a version of a Rudyard Kipling piece I have redone in every kingdom I have lived in.

Guy greets us with”Dudes! You look great! How about guarding the center with me?”

It *seemed* like a good idea.

The battle starts, the bukelari brigade shoots out their hellhound mercenaries in a picket formation to trick the Aten army into collapsing on what they thought was a main attack. It worked. The Aten line zoomed in like pincers, the pickets ran like hell, and the army of Calafia crushed from the left and the army of Lyondemere and the Outlands crushed on the right. There were many heroics, but over half the Caidan army did not even get to move. Including us. The battle lasted six minutes.

King Guy was so pleased Caid won its first field battle ever against Atenveldt. He saw us all still in formation and promised us a more interesting round two.

it was indeed interesting. This time the pickets *were* an attack, they punched a hole in the middle, and Guy led us all through into the backfield. We pac-manned half the atenveldt army before they knew what was coming off. it was murder keeping up with Guy–no one that large should ever move that fast. its just wrong.

We ended with half the unit still alive and another resounding win.

I believe Caid won all but the broken field battle that Estrella. The celebrations, after years of losing were amazing.

Our friends from the neighbor shire of Naevejem invited us to supper and revel, so all of us trooped over there. I had been hit with an inspiration for a victory song and sang it for my friend Wulfhere the Dane. He later became the founding baron of Naevejhem, passing away in 1996. His is one of those absent faces I still see and voices I still hear. Yeah, I know, weird.

Wulfhere jumped up and said–during the revel–lets go bring a victory drink to our King! So all 70 of us jumped up and scrambled over to Caid Royal where a huge fire was burning and people were standing around watching belly dancers. In a break, Wulfhere steps forward and says in his amasing basso voice….Your Majesty…you may not know it but today we have with us a new bard who brings you a song of Victory!

King guy was delighted to have a victory song that fast and said,”Lets hear it!”

Wulfhere turns to me, and says,”Faheud, you’re on….”

16 years later I can still feel that adrenaline rush. I step forward and sang, having no where to hide and little hope of a lightning bolt on such a clear night…

The king made me sing it twice more, and then asked for verses for his allies, which were done shortly and he made me sing those as well. The next morning his man turned up with a schedule of events the Crown wanted the Kingdom bard at.

Thus began the magical mystery tour of thirty events in thirty two weekends, my good friend Bjarni Thorvarsson soon joining me as co-kingdom bard, and we improvised our way across the western kingdoms.

It feels strange all these years later to be packing for Estrella XXI. Going back to that place without my 45 housemates, knowing few if any of the old guard will be there, and knowing I will hear voices like Bjarni and Wulfhere in the crowd. hearing those voices and knowing they canot possibly be there.

Its kind of scary. Its kind of sad as well. I know there is no way it will have the magic of that first war….