.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
01-12-2015, 10:19 PM
Aisling
when you dream of me, dream when i’ll meet you on that distant shore She was lost in her song, taken by the old familiar melody into one of her frequent daydreams. Though the white lass danced alone in the unknown forest, she imagined before her the gallant hero of which she sang. Tall he was and noble too, the kind to coax a maiden’s sigh. And the little mare did. The last notes faded and so did her stride and a contented sigh found her stopping in an entirely new part of the forested mountain path with none too firm of a recollection of how she had come there or what path she had taken. She was not worried overmuch about her lack of a destination; she had set out to follow her feet and they would not lead her to harm. Just about to select another tune, a string of wonderful words reached her and for the briefest moment they were thought to have echoed only in her mind but her smoke grey eyes caught sight of a handsome face the green of the forest. He spoke in her beloved tongue, which was an unexpected so far from home. Delight spread across her features for the language and the words that were spoken in it, for she was never immune to such gallant praise. In an enchanted forest a sweet young maid sings of a noble prince and he appears before her eyes…A striking figure with a shining sword… Light steps brought her around to face the silver-tongued stranger, and head lowered in a graceful sweep of greeting. Lifting her eyes again, her smiling mouth had only begun to form a proper hello when she was interrupted by the sweetest little squeak. Her words turned into a soft ring of laughter, so charmed was she by the sight, as she finally spied the tiny creature as it nestled into the tail of its larger companion. “A thabhairt liom tú mo bhuíochas. Ach chanadh agam ach amháin i moladh de na hamhráin timpeall orm. Her voice came out in an amiable tone, the rhythm of the language making it almost a song in itself. Because he switched into the more common speech, she followed suit, but it still held soft lilt. “I am called Aisling, and it is a pleasure to meet you this morning. Might I know you own name, and you darling friend’s as well?” In her excitement of finding a new acquaintance, she pranced forward a few steps, a bold gesture perhaps, but not an aggressive one, only curiosity leading her forward. ”I did not look to find a speaker of the old tongue in this part of the world. Are you also from the Emerald Isle?” Actions in the living world. Daydreams and foolish fantasies. “Words spoken aloud.” Translations: “I give you my thanks, but I only sing in praise of the songs around me.” |
[now come the days of the dreamer and they are filled with wonder and light ]
:: permission given for use of magic and force :: please tag Aisling in all posts ::
