and was indeed crowned in the
aftermath of his father’s burial and service. All the while feeling
empty, un-worthy, a false King sitting on a stolen throne.”
Shaw stopped, a look of sadness on his face.
I could tell that he could feel the emotion of the tale he was
retelling. Repeating words of someone else had a way of inflicting
the emotions onto one self.
! I clearly remember that sadness filled the
faces of the luchorpán listening to the tale. They told stories of
joy and happiness with punchlines then ended in Congregational
laughter. They had no experience of tales of threat, danger and
loss. The storyteller saw the eyes drill into his own, he held the
hearts, dreams and emotions of the entire village at the tip of
silver tongue.”
Shaw continued farther. Once again the vision
returned and he could see the story being told to the
luchorpán.
“Now my friends, here’s where our little tale
becomes interesting. Several long, cold years followed the 10 years
of joy. Kain-Finn led the forces of Renir on many campaigns,
lending aid to many other Thanes and Kings that called upon him.
His time on the throne had grown the town of Renir to a city of
industry, wealth and prosperity. He was adored and kind to all
subjects and even to those who wronged him. He fought cruel tongues
and armed hands with kind words and outstretched arms. However
after a few years of silence the need of a Thane was not so
important. The city stood on its own legs. It made its own deals
and guilds there in ran the day to day of trade and commerce.
Kain-Finn sat idly on the throne for too long. The joy turned to
boredom, halls filled with dust. No feasts were held. Routine was
the poison that weighed heavy on the Thane’s back. Several more
cold years fell from the hourglass and post-coronation Kain-Finn
had been filled with agony. How appropriate it was that on the
15 th anniversary of his father’s passing, a strange
visitor paid his Kingdom a visit.
The prophetic woman who had provided the rare
horse – all knew her by name and description – made awestruck the
Kingdom upon her arrival, face streaking with crystal tears that
tore through the dirt caked upon her worn skin. She demanded
audience with the new Thane, a request no one quelled with
fulfilling. In good time, she stood before him in his audience
chamber, tears still rolling down her face. To see her again after
the cold year, Kain-Finn was somewhat perplexed. Ah, but he
wouldn’t be for long. Her presence there reminded him of long ago
when he promised to return to her bearing four strong horses.
‘You!’ he exclaimed, softly, unable to meet
the woman’s eyes.
‘You fiend! She shrieked a response,
staggering across the chamber to reach him at the end of the table.
Her arms and legs trembled like a great thunder, sliding across the
floor and table.
‘Calm yourself and hold your tongue before it
writes your demise’ warned the Thane. ‘I can provide what you seek.
Gold, jewels, land.’
‘A promise unbroken,’ came her shrill cry
once more ‘cannot be mended with gifts. No gold. No land. They’re
all gone. I lost everything.’
‘What do you mean by this?’
By her account, the warrior-King Daragh
raided her lands, raising all to dust. Her home burned to the
ground and the ground, trampled by flame and death, blackened the
green. The name Daragh had been growing like a weed in the cracks
of Renir’s walls. The whispered stories, like vines wrapping around
the throats of the memories past in 10 years. Chocking all
recollection of security from the minds of Renir’s people and
leaving a poisonous fear. This was Daragh’s greatest weapon. Before
he even arrived or a single weapon was drawn, his victory was
almost sealed by surrender of towns. Kain-Finn knew in his heart
the nature of war and the desire of those held under its mighty
thumb. He expected nothing less than to hear the Black Hag
conscript his assistance as repayment for neglecting his
aftermath of his father’s burial and service. All the while feeling
empty, un-worthy, a false King sitting on a stolen throne.”
Shaw stopped, a look of sadness on his face.
I could tell that he could feel the emotion of the tale he was
retelling. Repeating words of someone else had a way of inflicting
the emotions onto one self.
! I clearly remember that sadness filled the
faces of the luchorpán listening to the tale. They told stories of
joy and happiness with punchlines then ended in Congregational
laughter. They had no experience of tales of threat, danger and
loss. The storyteller saw the eyes drill into his own, he held the
hearts, dreams and emotions of the entire village at the tip of
silver tongue.”
Shaw continued farther. Once again the vision
returned and he could see the story being told to the
luchorpán.
“Now my friends, here’s where our little tale
becomes interesting. Several long, cold years followed the 10 years
of joy. Kain-Finn led the forces of Renir on many campaigns,
lending aid to many other Thanes and Kings that called upon him.
His time on the throne had grown the town of Renir to a city of
industry, wealth and prosperity. He was adored and kind to all
subjects and even to those who wronged him. He fought cruel tongues
and armed hands with kind words and outstretched arms. However
after a few years of silence the need of a Thane was not so
important. The city stood on its own legs. It made its own deals
and guilds there in ran the day to day of trade and commerce.
Kain-Finn sat idly on the throne for too long. The joy turned to
boredom, halls filled with dust. No feasts were held. Routine was
the poison that weighed heavy on the Thane’s back. Several more
cold years fell from the hourglass and post-coronation Kain-Finn
had been filled with agony. How appropriate it was that on the
15 th anniversary of his father’s passing, a strange
visitor paid his Kingdom a visit.
The prophetic woman who had provided the rare
horse – all knew her by name and description – made awestruck the
Kingdom upon her arrival, face streaking with crystal tears that
tore through the dirt caked upon her worn skin. She demanded
audience with the new Thane, a request no one quelled with
fulfilling. In good time, she stood before him in his audience
chamber, tears still rolling down her face. To see her again after
the cold year, Kain-Finn was somewhat perplexed. Ah, but he
wouldn’t be for long. Her presence there reminded him of long ago
when he promised to return to her bearing four strong horses.
‘You!’ he exclaimed, softly, unable to meet
the woman’s eyes.
‘You fiend! She shrieked a response,
staggering across the chamber to reach him at the end of the table.
Her arms and legs trembled like a great thunder, sliding across the
floor and table.
‘Calm yourself and hold your tongue before it
writes your demise’ warned the Thane. ‘I can provide what you seek.
Gold, jewels, land.’
‘A promise unbroken,’ came her shrill cry
once more ‘cannot be mended with gifts. No gold. No land. They’re
all gone. I lost everything.’
‘What do you mean by this?’
By her account, the warrior-King Daragh
raided her lands, raising all to dust. Her home burned to the
ground and the ground, trampled by flame and death, blackened the
green. The name Daragh had been growing like a weed in the cracks
of Renir’s walls. The whispered stories, like vines wrapping around
the throats of the memories past in 10 years. Chocking all
recollection of security from the minds of Renir’s people and
leaving a poisonous fear. This was Daragh’s greatest weapon. Before
he even arrived or a single weapon was drawn, his victory was
almost sealed by surrender of towns. Kain-Finn knew in his heart
the nature of war and the desire of those held under its mighty
thumb. He expected nothing less than to hear the Black Hag
conscript his assistance as repayment for neglecting his
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