BBC Merlin!!!
Rating: general
Summary: chaos and prose
Title: Babbles
i: Fiery Part Of Water
There were two lovers once. Amongst hordes of others, swarms of people who loved and lost and loved again and chose to never love again and people who only longed for love. They were no more or less important than the rest. The only difference was circumstance. They were the last, and the first. Linking their stories together painted in cathedrals and scrawled in notebooks. The last dragon lord, and the mother that “maiden and crone” followed. And they both agreed that to love with all you have, sometimes you have to scatter the dandelion where the wildflowers grow. The night before they parted, they went to a stream that only sang on half moon sunsets. Hunith and Balinor, hands clasped together, asked the ringing rocks what was to come of their boy.
ii. Truth And Untruth
Two young boys held swords poised against one another. They were wooden. The swords, not the boys. No, The one wore a red tunic with fine gold lining the edges, while the other wore a drab blue. A blacksmith laughed as the children swung down on one another, his daughter giggling as she stood peering out from behind. On the sidelines a girl of the same age dressed in purple had moved on to archery– she had already bested both boys twice in a row. The scene was peaceful, energetic, bright.
The water of the stream gurgles, and the landscape shifts.
Two boys with steel blades raised at one another.
The stream gurgles again.
One boy, or. Man. His hand is raised and emits a faint light. Dust circles around him, and as an enemy on horseback comes into focus on his left, a creature of fire and bone slinks towards him on the right. A different man, this one with sun touched hair, raises a sword. When the blade arcs through the air it's practically singing. A choir in harmony a river in motion. His sword engraved with an antique text that he was taught years ago, leaves a streak of gold through the air. The same gold that fills up the other man's eyes, as he speaks the language that lives on the sword.
The mage disarms the soldier.
The prince slays the beast.
When they turn to each other the stream shifts again, undecided on which divots worn into the ground it will choose.
Two women sit on the edge of a decorated bench. They love each other, (as many do,) and have said as much. They take turns braiding each other's hair. They laugh, and play games, and when they hear a chorus of voices outside, they find their way to the balcony to greet the towns below. A castle with high walls does not have to extend to its citizens. Ruling with no empathy is no way to live. The last king taught them that. There are always two sides to the coin.
The stream ripples against a few stray lily pads.
A knight embraces a servant
A priestess heals a child
A King is lost in a kiss.
The stream becomes a waterfall.
iii. Root Of The Power Of Water
What is the root, really? The source? Where the power comes from? Or the sturdiness, the hearth. The root of distrust, a man who would trade a life. The root of belief, that a world of sorrow and hatred and forest fires has seeds within the rubble, has forehead touches and unforgotten promises. The root of love. A wish, a first name, two backs against one another, a risk taken for a stranger, swords surrendered, a table made equal, a poisoned cup drank, a “you are safe here”, a sword embedded in stone. It could be the blacksmith's daughter, or the knight without a past, or the father with no son but the one he found. It could be the boy who grew up afraid, the princess without a crown. The truth is roots spread, endless and fertile with beauty that cherry blossoms envy. Moments are infinite, the challenge is how the goblet gets filled.
iv. Sacrifice
This stream used to be a river that used to stem from the ocean. Grand and encompassing, now it flows from a spring up by the coast. It may be gone in a few years, maybe less. These former current lovers keep their fingers intertwined as they step over the rocks that follow its ballad. Cicadas seem to sing along.
A dragon sits in a stone prison. Isolated and alone. When he calls out, no one speaks his tongue to answer.
Clumps of moss are torn from the banks sides.
A dragon surrounded by kin flies on the morning light. Some have riders on their backs, (mutual, not masters.) others no weight to carry but their own. The villagers cheer as the winged beasts approach, their arrival destined in ancient text. Bringing possibilities on their wings, the dragons descend amongst the onlookers.
A frog croaks before hopping into the water.
The young man from earlier is taller, some broadness to his shoulders. He rests a hand on the prince's arm in a tender moment. The prince looks puzzled. Flashing lights appear overhead and two sacrifices are made. The giving up of a secret, and the future forged in metal. Later that night, the candle is blown out in a fit of giggles.
An inlet traps a flow of water.
And there they are, the mage giving up his privacy as the court magician, the king giving up his knowledge of the past. A queen who keeps her history and takes on the lives of the kingdom. A witch that dwells in the forest, who hopes to wake up.
The stream rounds a curve.
A witch who sacrifices family and lovers for rest. Her dark curls cause the flame around her to climb up in wisps. Raised by druids, she grants the forest keepsakes. Each spring the flowers bloom and the fruits are plenty and her work remains hidden. A smile creeps up on her elders face as he takes in the mountain side. They built this. They will build more.
A cluster of fish are taken by the current.
To be alone. Surrounded by crows feet and quilts and warm cooked meals and fitted armor and feel unseen. What gets in the way? Is it pride or fear? Is it better to sacrifice the safety of a lie, or the freedom of truth?
v. Winter, Diamonds, Earth
The lovers walk three miles along this stream. They see visions in the reflection, outcomes overlapping and changing and unsure. Sometimes the baby in Huniths arms fusses, and the two trade responsibilities. Snow hasn't come yet. A sage told them the best time to listen for the hymns here was when the cold seeped through the wood, though they had run out of time for specifics. Trees close in around them as the water babbles its symphony.
A town named for a leader hosts a festival each year for a peasant. He makes elixirs for his neighbors, changes nature in good fun, was given a book from his uncle. His life here is unbothered and youthful, a boy raised by his parents and his village.
A prince stumbles in. He is meant to explore and see the world before he rules one. He finds the boy eclectic and silly. He asks for the name and a woman with auburn hair tells him: “divine sea.” From his eyes, the prince understands.
A girl and her brother share a meal with their family. Their house and wardrobe are not wanting, the sheets on their bed knitted where they wear. She has several suitors, and nothing rushing her to decide.
A princess, (woodland, castle, you decide,) creates water from the earth, fire from the air. She conjures in peace and she shares with any.
How much is left to chance, how much can be controlled?
The lovers reach the beginning of the spring. The sound of the past is tranquil, the future deafening.
What point was it too late? Is fate playing games with red strings and sheers, or is there a chance for more?
The father dips his hand into the cool water at their feet. He lets his son's hand feel the flow.
In a world with this fear and unworthiness and duty and doubt, all they can do is love.
They sleep beneath the canopy that night. A bed of moss stretching wide, curled into each other, their son in between. A stag kneels at their feet and they will not know this when morning comes and he is gone. As the first snow falls and the family does not worry of warmth, the boy's eyes light up in the night, and for a moment all the stars are golden.
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Wooo! Hello hello i may have went a little wild with this and got off track from my original. My inspiration for a five card spread:
Elder of cups - current situation
Two of swords - the way forward
Ace of cups - challenges
Hanged one - unseen influences
Child of pentacles - the outcome
I had a lot of fun with this!!! No i didn't proofread yes i will tomorrow and edit. But for now I'll post:)
Love love love love @merlintarotfest !!!
