(MUSIC)
The pyre roared. A lot of people surrounded it, each giving their own sacrifices. Strange sights were to behold. One man challenging a wraith, whilst cooking meat. Another chasing a skimpy dressed girl around. One gifting the gods nothing and everything to get their good graces. People dancing, chanting, fighting and crying.
It was amazing.
Jormen didn’t know where to start. He plucked his long grey beard, cleaned his short sleeved tunic and tuned his trusted kantele. This was a good day to be a skald, a storyteller, a bard.
He arrived a few hours early this day. Listening to stories, dancing, drinking, singing, that’s how Jormen spend his day. But, there was a very important reason why he attended.
Not to let his words wash away by the two men shouting on their sides of the pyre, Jormen walked to the others side. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket, unraveled it and started to speak.
“To all who hear, all who listen, I speak! Greetings and glory upon thee, O great divines, spirits and muses.” Jormen bowed deeply and with great gesture, taking of his small cap.
“I come here with an offer, and a request. You see, I am old and grey. My mind slow, as is my body.” Comicly acting oud, with one hand on is back and one on a imaginary walking stick in front of him. Suddenly, Jormen leapt up and clapped his hands
“But behold, my spirit is young and wants to learn, to see! I feel alive, even after so long!”
Jormen held up his piece of paper.
“On this parchment, I have written a song. A very old song, which I can just barely remember. I will gift a piece of my past. I will forget it, I will never be able to play it again. Only the god, or goddess” he adds with a small wink, “that takes it will know this ancient tune.”
Slowly, Jormen brought the piece of paper closer to the fire. Just when the flames started to take hold, he pulled it back, pressing it firmly to his body, guarding it.
“BUT!” he shouted. “I will only grant it to the one who will be my muse. The one who gives me inspiration, who amazes me. So step fort, claim my prize, my sacrifice, and grant me visions of wonder!”
The pyre roared. A lot of people surrounded it, each giving their own sacrifices. Strange sights were to behold. One man challenging a wraith, whilst cooking meat. Another chasing a skimpy dressed girl around. One gifting the gods nothing and everything to get their good graces. People dancing, chanting, fighting and crying.
It was amazing.
Jormen didn’t know where to start. He plucked his long grey beard, cleaned his short sleeved tunic and tuned his trusted kantele. This was a good day to be a skald, a storyteller, a bard.
He arrived a few hours early this day. Listening to stories, dancing, drinking, singing, that’s how Jormen spend his day. But, there was a very important reason why he attended.
Not to let his words wash away by the two men shouting on their sides of the pyre, Jormen walked to the others side. He took a piece of paper out of his pocket, unraveled it and started to speak.
“To all who hear, all who listen, I speak! Greetings and glory upon thee, O great divines, spirits and muses.” Jormen bowed deeply and with great gesture, taking of his small cap.
“I come here with an offer, and a request. You see, I am old and grey. My mind slow, as is my body.” Comicly acting oud, with one hand on is back and one on a imaginary walking stick in front of him. Suddenly, Jormen leapt up and clapped his hands
“But behold, my spirit is young and wants to learn, to see! I feel alive, even after so long!”
Jormen held up his piece of paper.
“On this parchment, I have written a song. A very old song, which I can just barely remember. I will gift a piece of my past. I will forget it, I will never be able to play it again. Only the god, or goddess” he adds with a small wink, “that takes it will know this ancient tune.”
Slowly, Jormen brought the piece of paper closer to the fire. Just when the flames started to take hold, he pulled it back, pressing it firmly to his body, guarding it.
“BUT!” he shouted. “I will only grant it to the one who will be my muse. The one who gives me inspiration, who amazes me. So step fort, claim my prize, my sacrifice, and grant me visions of wonder!”