Midterm - Ariella McManus
Picture #4
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Once upon a time, long ago before you and I were born, there existed a land shrouded in mists, a land spoken of only in hushed whispers. It was rumored to be inhabited by an ancient race of fey, both beautiful and cunning, and parents were dutifully vigilant in warning their precious offspring about the dangers of befriending such a creature should they ever be unfortunate enough to cross paths with one. Despite all of their precautions, however, year after year, it seemed, many were the young maiden who slipped away to the seashore to dance in the shadow of the silvery moonlight with an otherwordly lover, never to be seen in the mortal realm again.
It was to this very world that Fionaggan had been born, the youngest son of the King and Queen of Arda'Hithslime (the Realm of Misty Moonlight to us English speaking folk), and tonight was his Rite of Initiation. For months now he had endured the endless torment of waiting to join his older brothers on their nightly jaunts to the seashore; the stories they regaled the youth with only adding to his impatience. He lay awake long after everyone else was fast asleep, listening to the faint voices of the singing maidens housed in the stone cottage directly behind the palace in which the royal family lived. How he longed to see them for himself; and after tonight, it would be his right to do just that!!
As the moon rose high in the sky, Fionaggan and his brothers set off amidst much cheering and merriment, preparations already underway for the grand feast that would herald their return. He watched in awe as one after the other, his brothers paired off with the lovely beauties that drifted down to the beach, hoping to catch a forbidden glimpse of the youths that awaited them. With steps too light and airy to be human, the youths led the maidens in dreamy dance, leaning close to whisper sweet promises, the music provided by an unseen choir of singers hidden far below the ocean's waves. It was enough to take Fionaggan's breath away; save for one small matter.
He could not help but notice a girl sitting by herself, her soft sobs wrenching at his tender heart. Unlike her lovelier companions, the girl was not fair of face nor form, and not only had she been rejected time and again, but had been the object of much ridicule among the dancers, their cruel jests mingling with the music and tainting its beauty. For the first time in his life, Fionaggan was exposed to the cruelty that extreme beauty often breeds, and he wanted no part of it. Despite his brother's admonitions and mockery, he made his way to the girl and leaned down to speak to her softly, pressing a gentle hand to her face to brush away her tears.
"Dance with me..please."
He took her hand and led her in the dance, surprised to find her steps equally graceful to his own, her voice remarkably sweet as she sang along to the melody in a language he had never heard. She smiled and touched a finger to his ears, and much to his utter amazement, he begin to understand every word. She spun a tale of a strange land shrouded in mist, of a cruel people who stole away human maidens to serve them as concubines and servants in their temple, taught to sing under the harshest of conditions. Those who were found unworthy were made to live out the remainder of their days as slaves, or simply drowned, should the fancy strike their fickle masters. Her song told of how the maidens were coaxed to enter the land, and how once entered under one's own free will, it was impossible to leave. With each word, his heart sank further, tears streaming down his cheeks to match her own now as his heart told him what her words did not. The land she spoke of was his home, the cruel masters his father and brothers, and tonight, he would become one of them.
"NO!"
He grabbed her hand and began to run, his shout drawing the attention of his brothers, their angry expressions and threats sending him flying over the sands. Slipping on a sharp pebble, he thought all was lost and bade her to go on without him, closing his eyes to await his end. Much to his surprise, he felt his feet leave the earth and the pair were airbound, flying through the air, borne on the wings of the friendly eastern breeze to a grassy meadow some distance away. Frightened out of his wits, the poor boy had slammed his eyes closed; quite sure that this must be some sort of nightmare. Only when she set him down on the soft blanket of grass did he dare open them, gasping at the change in her countenance. Gone was the plain girl that he had rescued from the cruel barbs of the others, and in her stead stood a willowy woman of unspeakable beauty. Now it was her turn to dry his tears, cradling him in her arms as she spoke.
"Fionaggan, do not cry. It is your kind heart and the goodness of your soul that has revealed your true nature to me; you are the one I seek. You see, I have been sent to save you. Long ago, a baby boy was stolen from his cradle by a jealous girl who looked much as I did when we first met, selling her own brother into slavery to the masters of Arda`Hithslime in return for the gift of eternal beauty. The boy never knew of his plight, for the Queen of Ara`Hithslime took a liking to him and chose to raise him as her own instead of condemning him to a life of labor. Still, his family, his true family grieves for him. And truly, he could never be one of them..and I believe that he found that out tonight. You are that boy, Fionaggan, and I have come to take you home. As you did not enter the land under your own free will; you may leave it at your own will if you so choose."
Her words spoke true to him, and somewhere deep inside, he begin to remember another home, another time, and he nodded his consent. Gratefully, he took the hand of the kind fairy, for I am sure you have guessed by now, as Fionaggan had, that she was truly no mortal woman either. Together they made their way to his home, where he was reunited with his true family, and a happier reunion there never was to be seen. In time, he married and had sons and daughters of his own, moving them far away from the seashore and the call of Ara`Hithslime. He knew all too well that the legend was true, and he had no wish to see them suffer the same fate as he had so many years ago.
-------
Once upon a time, long ago before you and I were born, there existed a land shrouded in mists, a land spoken of only in hushed whispers. It was rumored to be inhabited by an ancient race of fey, both beautiful and cunning, and parents were dutifully vigilant in warning their precious offspring about the dangers of befriending such a creature should they ever be unfortunate enough to cross paths with one. Despite all of their precautions, however, year after year, it seemed, many were the young maiden who slipped away to the seashore to dance in the shadow of the silvery moonlight with an otherwordly lover, never to be seen in the mortal realm again.
It was to this very world that Fionaggan had been born, the youngest son of the King and Queen of Arda'Hithslime (the Realm of Misty Moonlight to us English speaking folk), and tonight was his Rite of Initiation. For months now he had endured the endless torment of waiting to join his older brothers on their nightly jaunts to the seashore; the stories they regaled the youth with only adding to his impatience. He lay awake long after everyone else was fast asleep, listening to the faint voices of the singing maidens housed in the stone cottage directly behind the palace in which the royal family lived. How he longed to see them for himself; and after tonight, it would be his right to do just that!!
As the moon rose high in the sky, Fionaggan and his brothers set off amidst much cheering and merriment, preparations already underway for the grand feast that would herald their return. He watched in awe as one after the other, his brothers paired off with the lovely beauties that drifted down to the beach, hoping to catch a forbidden glimpse of the youths that awaited them. With steps too light and airy to be human, the youths led the maidens in dreamy dance, leaning close to whisper sweet promises, the music provided by an unseen choir of singers hidden far below the ocean's waves. It was enough to take Fionaggan's breath away; save for one small matter.
He could not help but notice a girl sitting by herself, her soft sobs wrenching at his tender heart. Unlike her lovelier companions, the girl was not fair of face nor form, and not only had she been rejected time and again, but had been the object of much ridicule among the dancers, their cruel jests mingling with the music and tainting its beauty. For the first time in his life, Fionaggan was exposed to the cruelty that extreme beauty often breeds, and he wanted no part of it. Despite his brother's admonitions and mockery, he made his way to the girl and leaned down to speak to her softly, pressing a gentle hand to her face to brush away her tears.
"Dance with me..please."
He took her hand and led her in the dance, surprised to find her steps equally graceful to his own, her voice remarkably sweet as she sang along to the melody in a language he had never heard. She smiled and touched a finger to his ears, and much to his utter amazement, he begin to understand every word. She spun a tale of a strange land shrouded in mist, of a cruel people who stole away human maidens to serve them as concubines and servants in their temple, taught to sing under the harshest of conditions. Those who were found unworthy were made to live out the remainder of their days as slaves, or simply drowned, should the fancy strike their fickle masters. Her song told of how the maidens were coaxed to enter the land, and how once entered under one's own free will, it was impossible to leave. With each word, his heart sank further, tears streaming down his cheeks to match her own now as his heart told him what her words did not. The land she spoke of was his home, the cruel masters his father and brothers, and tonight, he would become one of them.
"NO!"
He grabbed her hand and began to run, his shout drawing the attention of his brothers, their angry expressions and threats sending him flying over the sands. Slipping on a sharp pebble, he thought all was lost and bade her to go on without him, closing his eyes to await his end. Much to his surprise, he felt his feet leave the earth and the pair were airbound, flying through the air, borne on the wings of the friendly eastern breeze to a grassy meadow some distance away. Frightened out of his wits, the poor boy had slammed his eyes closed; quite sure that this must be some sort of nightmare. Only when she set him down on the soft blanket of grass did he dare open them, gasping at the change in her countenance. Gone was the plain girl that he had rescued from the cruel barbs of the others, and in her stead stood a willowy woman of unspeakable beauty. Now it was her turn to dry his tears, cradling him in her arms as she spoke.
"Fionaggan, do not cry. It is your kind heart and the goodness of your soul that has revealed your true nature to me; you are the one I seek. You see, I have been sent to save you. Long ago, a baby boy was stolen from his cradle by a jealous girl who looked much as I did when we first met, selling her own brother into slavery to the masters of Arda`Hithslime in return for the gift of eternal beauty. The boy never knew of his plight, for the Queen of Ara`Hithslime took a liking to him and chose to raise him as her own instead of condemning him to a life of labor. Still, his family, his true family grieves for him. And truly, he could never be one of them..and I believe that he found that out tonight. You are that boy, Fionaggan, and I have come to take you home. As you did not enter the land under your own free will; you may leave it at your own will if you so choose."
Her words spoke true to him, and somewhere deep inside, he begin to remember another home, another time, and he nodded his consent. Gratefully, he took the hand of the kind fairy, for I am sure you have guessed by now, as Fionaggan had, that she was truly no mortal woman either. Together they made their way to his home, where he was reunited with his true family, and a happier reunion there never was to be seen. In time, he married and had sons and daughters of his own, moving them far away from the seashore and the call of Ara`Hithslime. He knew all too well that the legend was true, and he had no wish to see them suffer the same fate as he had so many years ago.
Picture #3
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Once upon a time there lived a miller and his wife, blessed with seven strong, handsome sons and six lovely, obedient daughters. Their home was in a thriving village among many friends, the fates had graced the land with every sort of bounty and life could not have been better. One by one, the sons and daughters married and settled into homes of their own nearby, adding to the prosperity of the miller and his wife. After a time, only the youngest of the daughters, little Morrewyn, was left at the mill with her parents. Good of heart and light of spirit, she was a joy to her parents, siblings, and all who crossed her path. Never a cross word for anyone, much loved by all, despite her frail nature which hindered her well-meaning but feeble attempts to be of much help with any chores.
That was before the darkness came to the village. No one knew exactly how or why, but it seemed that nature itself one day decided to contrive against them, the very spirits that had offered them succor in the past now intent on destroying those who had slighted them in some manner. A gray cloud of despair settled over the land as crops began to fail, livestock started to die, and milk curdled in the pails. Laughter turned to tears, joy to sorrow, and hope to sheer desperation as the malady of the land claimed one victim after the other, the miller's large family suffering as much or more than any. His once large flock of offspring dwindled down at an alarming rate, and Morrewyn spent many a day comforting her poor mother who spent her time looking out of the window in shocked silence as if searching for the children lost to her forever.
Some of the braver menfolk, Morrewyn's brothers and fathers among them, set out in hopes of discovering the root of their problems and a solution before they all perished. One by one they returned defeated, each with a tale bleaker than the other. They spoke of a fearsome witch who had taken up residence in a remote cave deep within the forest. The witch, whose name none dared to speak, had been spurned by a youth of the village with whom she had taken a fancy, and she had cursed the land in revenge. The cause of their troubles was discovered, but to what avail?! Those who had made it back to the village had barely escaped with their lives, many others falling prey to the jaws of the demonic black dogs she kept as her pets and watch guardians. All was surely lost; or such was the general belief, save for one small brave soul housed in the form of a frail little girl who knew that win or lose, she had to at least try. How she dared hope to succeed when so many others before her had failed, she had no idea.
Early one morning, long before her parents had arisen, Morrewyn set off on her journey; a knapsack of meager provisions and a hand-drawn map of her own doing rendered from the tales told, her only belongings. She sang and whistled while she trudged along, bravely raising her voice as if in rebellion to the gray clouds dancing overhead. Not one given to complaining, she nonetheless soon grew weary and was forced to stop and rest, darting into an outcropping of rocks as a thunderstorm rolled across the sky. Her will just as strong as ever, she sat down and matter-of-factly began to nibble on her meal of bread and cheese, knowing that she would need all of her strength to continue and reach her destination before night fell.
Lost in her own thoughts, she failed to see the small figure following her at a distance, watching her every move. It was while she was pouring over her map that he made his presence known, jumping out at her and causing her to spill her pitifully small lunch to the ground. Instead of cursing him, as many would have, she smiled and blamed her own clumsiness for the accident, offering him a sunny smile and a warm greeting. At his rather rude suggestion, she graciously dug into her knapsack and offered him the rest of her provisions, even as her own stomach growled with hunger. No thanks were given as the small figure hurried off and she continued on her way.
Many times during the day she was stopped in her journey by the weather, her own physical shortcomings, and various strangers, each demanding something of her and each ruder than the last. Cloak, ale, a gold sovereign, and the comb from her hair were given without complaint, each with the same selfless attitude and cheerfulness of heart. She was near the edge of the forest when she spied the same small misshapen figure she had first seen early that day. As he neared, he spoke her name, his voice surprisingly soft and tender. Before the startled girl's eyes, the figure changed from hideous deformity to beautiful fairy-creature, holding out a ring of purest gold set with a sparkling stone of every color under the sun.
"For your kindness to those less fortunate, and your willingness to help others despite dangers to yourself, this boon has been granted to you, Morrewyn of the Mill. Show this to the witch and she will not dare refuse you. Be warned, she will ask the impossible of you; but your heart is true, and should you succeed, the curse to your village will be lifted, those lost will be restored, and the witch will be defeated forever. Peace be with you."
Emboldened, Morrewyn continued on to the witch's cave, and all was as the fairy had said. The witch, after seeing the ring, had agreed to lift the curse..should Morrewyn complete her task. The witch's laugh was cruel, for the task was indeed impossible. She bade Morrewyn fetch her nectar from a rare exotic flower that grew only in one small area atop the highest mountain far to the north, a mountain that was known for its treacherous peaks, certain death for any that was foolish enough to attempt it. To make matters worse, the flower was guarded by a bee whose sting was so poisonous that it was sure to kill painfully; the witch's own pet. For the first time, Morrewyn's courage flagged and as soon as she was out of sight of the horrid witch, she slumped down and began to cry.
A soft voice bade her to dry her tears, and she looked up to find her fairy-friend with her once more. The fairy spoke words that Morrewyn did not understand and blew a smattering of dust over the startled girl, who grew even more startled when she found herself beginning to change shapes, shifting and shrinking until she was a girl no more, but a small dragonfly. The fairy smiled and reminded her that dragonflies are known for their speed, and that they bees are their natural prey. With a dip of wings and a hum of thanks, Morrewyn was off again, her spirits greatly lifted as she flew higher and higher.
Where the girl could not have gone, the dragonfly had no problems going, and she darted in, heading straightaway for the flower, her heart hammering at the sight of the bee. The girl was greatly frightened, but the fairy had not failed her yet, and the people of the village were counting on her! With renewed courage, she dove for the bee, the natural enemy of the dragonfly, her movements bold and aggressive, words that certainly had never been used to describe her before this! She laughed aloud, as the bee flew off for cover, begging Morrewyn for its life. Not wasting any time, she scooped up some nectar and dropped it into the vial the witch had given her and flew back down the mountain once more.
At the edge of the woods, the fairy was waiting, hugging the girl to her as she was changed back into human form and Morrewyn sped to the cave, presenting the nectar to the witch with a sweet bow. With a yell of outraged surprise, the witch took the vial and the clouds began to part, the earth shaking as souls of those claimed by the curse were restored to life. As for the witch, such was her chagrin that she stamped and stomped and screamed until a great chasm split open the ground underneath her and swallowed her up forever. Morrewyn was born away home on the shoulders of her brothers whose lives she had saved, and the whole village rejoiced, blessing the little girl who no one would dare call frail anymore. And, as in all good fairy tales, they all lived happily ever after.
-------
Once upon a time there lived a miller and his wife, blessed with seven strong, handsome sons and six lovely, obedient daughters. Their home was in a thriving village among many friends, the fates had graced the land with every sort of bounty and life could not have been better. One by one, the sons and daughters married and settled into homes of their own nearby, adding to the prosperity of the miller and his wife. After a time, only the youngest of the daughters, little Morrewyn, was left at the mill with her parents. Good of heart and light of spirit, she was a joy to her parents, siblings, and all who crossed her path. Never a cross word for anyone, much loved by all, despite her frail nature which hindered her well-meaning but feeble attempts to be of much help with any chores.
That was before the darkness came to the village. No one knew exactly how or why, but it seemed that nature itself one day decided to contrive against them, the very spirits that had offered them succor in the past now intent on destroying those who had slighted them in some manner. A gray cloud of despair settled over the land as crops began to fail, livestock started to die, and milk curdled in the pails. Laughter turned to tears, joy to sorrow, and hope to sheer desperation as the malady of the land claimed one victim after the other, the miller's large family suffering as much or more than any. His once large flock of offspring dwindled down at an alarming rate, and Morrewyn spent many a day comforting her poor mother who spent her time looking out of the window in shocked silence as if searching for the children lost to her forever.
Some of the braver menfolk, Morrewyn's brothers and fathers among them, set out in hopes of discovering the root of their problems and a solution before they all perished. One by one they returned defeated, each with a tale bleaker than the other. They spoke of a fearsome witch who had taken up residence in a remote cave deep within the forest. The witch, whose name none dared to speak, had been spurned by a youth of the village with whom she had taken a fancy, and she had cursed the land in revenge. The cause of their troubles was discovered, but to what avail?! Those who had made it back to the village had barely escaped with their lives, many others falling prey to the jaws of the demonic black dogs she kept as her pets and watch guardians. All was surely lost; or such was the general belief, save for one small brave soul housed in the form of a frail little girl who knew that win or lose, she had to at least try. How she dared hope to succeed when so many others before her had failed, she had no idea.
Early one morning, long before her parents had arisen, Morrewyn set off on her journey; a knapsack of meager provisions and a hand-drawn map of her own doing rendered from the tales told, her only belongings. She sang and whistled while she trudged along, bravely raising her voice as if in rebellion to the gray clouds dancing overhead. Not one given to complaining, she nonetheless soon grew weary and was forced to stop and rest, darting into an outcropping of rocks as a thunderstorm rolled across the sky. Her will just as strong as ever, she sat down and matter-of-factly began to nibble on her meal of bread and cheese, knowing that she would need all of her strength to continue and reach her destination before night fell.
Lost in her own thoughts, she failed to see the small figure following her at a distance, watching her every move. It was while she was pouring over her map that he made his presence known, jumping out at her and causing her to spill her pitifully small lunch to the ground. Instead of cursing him, as many would have, she smiled and blamed her own clumsiness for the accident, offering him a sunny smile and a warm greeting. At his rather rude suggestion, she graciously dug into her knapsack and offered him the rest of her provisions, even as her own stomach growled with hunger. No thanks were given as the small figure hurried off and she continued on her way.
Many times during the day she was stopped in her journey by the weather, her own physical shortcomings, and various strangers, each demanding something of her and each ruder than the last. Cloak, ale, a gold sovereign, and the comb from her hair were given without complaint, each with the same selfless attitude and cheerfulness of heart. She was near the edge of the forest when she spied the same small misshapen figure she had first seen early that day. As he neared, he spoke her name, his voice surprisingly soft and tender. Before the startled girl's eyes, the figure changed from hideous deformity to beautiful fairy-creature, holding out a ring of purest gold set with a sparkling stone of every color under the sun.
"For your kindness to those less fortunate, and your willingness to help others despite dangers to yourself, this boon has been granted to you, Morrewyn of the Mill. Show this to the witch and she will not dare refuse you. Be warned, she will ask the impossible of you; but your heart is true, and should you succeed, the curse to your village will be lifted, those lost will be restored, and the witch will be defeated forever. Peace be with you."
Emboldened, Morrewyn continued on to the witch's cave, and all was as the fairy had said. The witch, after seeing the ring, had agreed to lift the curse..should Morrewyn complete her task. The witch's laugh was cruel, for the task was indeed impossible. She bade Morrewyn fetch her nectar from a rare exotic flower that grew only in one small area atop the highest mountain far to the north, a mountain that was known for its treacherous peaks, certain death for any that was foolish enough to attempt it. To make matters worse, the flower was guarded by a bee whose sting was so poisonous that it was sure to kill painfully; the witch's own pet. For the first time, Morrewyn's courage flagged and as soon as she was out of sight of the horrid witch, she slumped down and began to cry.
A soft voice bade her to dry her tears, and she looked up to find her fairy-friend with her once more. The fairy spoke words that Morrewyn did not understand and blew a smattering of dust over the startled girl, who grew even more startled when she found herself beginning to change shapes, shifting and shrinking until she was a girl no more, but a small dragonfly. The fairy smiled and reminded her that dragonflies are known for their speed, and that they bees are their natural prey. With a dip of wings and a hum of thanks, Morrewyn was off again, her spirits greatly lifted as she flew higher and higher.
Where the girl could not have gone, the dragonfly had no problems going, and she darted in, heading straightaway for the flower, her heart hammering at the sight of the bee. The girl was greatly frightened, but the fairy had not failed her yet, and the people of the village were counting on her! With renewed courage, she dove for the bee, the natural enemy of the dragonfly, her movements bold and aggressive, words that certainly had never been used to describe her before this! She laughed aloud, as the bee flew off for cover, begging Morrewyn for its life. Not wasting any time, she scooped up some nectar and dropped it into the vial the witch had given her and flew back down the mountain once more.
At the edge of the woods, the fairy was waiting, hugging the girl to her as she was changed back into human form and Morrewyn sped to the cave, presenting the nectar to the witch with a sweet bow. With a yell of outraged surprise, the witch took the vial and the clouds began to part, the earth shaking as souls of those claimed by the curse were restored to life. As for the witch, such was her chagrin that she stamped and stomped and screamed until a great chasm split open the ground underneath her and swallowed her up forever. Morrewyn was born away home on the shoulders of her brothers whose lives she had saved, and the whole village rejoiced, blessing the little girl who no one would dare call frail anymore. And, as in all good fairy tales, they all lived happily ever after.