The Tree-King Festival
Tristan woke early on the first morning of the Tree-King Festival. He was still very shaken over the ordeal with the attempted kidnapping of Elysia, but that was several days ago now, and he had spent plenty of time resting since then.
Despite the horrors of that night, he woke with a feeling of elation! This was one of his most favourite times of the year. He missed his father, and hoped he would return soon, but right now all he could think about was the excitement of the festival.
When he was washed and dressed, in a navy vest and forest green cloak, he made his way through the castle grounds where people were busy at work preparing for the days of celebration. Carpenters were busy assembling tables for the feast days in the courtyards below. Musicians were practising their performances as fire twirlers and jugglers practiced their acts in the Drama Hall.
The players also stood on stage in the Hall, though they would perform in the actual theatre when an audience was gathered. Other performances were arranged around the feast tables, celebrating the Sacrifice of El’Tihir, and the Songs of Remembrance were also a large part of that tradition. Tristan had never taken part in the singing, though this year he thought he might.
Today was also the day of his Confirmation. Both he and Elysia would be taking part, as their ascension to members of the Church and the broader community. As a son, and daughter, of lords, their ceremonies were of great significance, and Pastor Rook had drilled this into the both of them the night of their lesson before the demon had appeared.
He made his way to the kitchens after the wafting aromas of freshly baked breads, sweets, tarts, and cakes began to make his mouth water. The head chef Tabetha McConnell fixed him up a plate of beans, eggs, and bacon, with a fresh loaf of ryebread and a pint of apple cider. The non-alcoholic brand of course, though he would be sampling red wine for the first time during the Communion as he understood it. Bread and wine, symbolic of the flesh and blood of El’Tihir. Eat my Body. Drink my Blood. It made him nauseas to even think of it. He hoped he didn’t sick up during the ceremony.
After breakfast he considered visiting Elysia’s quarters to see if she was feeling well enough to roam the grounds as the day unfolded. Then he wondered why he should want to see her again so soon. Something had changed about the way he felt about her. Feelings stirred during that night during Rook’s lesson. What was it he had said before the demon attacked, that he and Elysia would make a ‘fine couple?’ He shivered to even contemplate it. But at the same time, he remembered how terrified he had been when the demon had kidnapped her. His fear of losing her was almost … heartbreaking?
Something else had deeply upset him right before her rescue. When he followed the demon, down to those lower levels of the Keep. Right below that chamber was the entrance to the crypts, the place where his real mother had been laid to rest. At the time he had really been too focused on rescuing Elysia, but right now the thrill of the day was overpowered by a crushing pain in his chest. Tears stung his eyes as he broke down and wept, trembling all over as the pain sprung up anew. His mother had been his entire world when he lost her. So strange how things seem better as time passes, then the heartache strikes, and you lose your footing once again.
‘Do not cry, young Lord Tristan,’ Pastor Rook croaked down the hallway. Tristan looked up in surprise to the see the man walking with a cane for support and a heavy white bandage across his chest. ‘Why, you are a hero! Everyone is talking about you!’
‘I just did what I had to do,’ Tristan replied with a sniff, wiping the tears from his face.
‘From what I hear of your father’s men,’ Rook continued, ‘you were astounding! Truly remarkable. Worthy of songs they are saying.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Tristan said. ‘The arrows told me what to do.’
‘Yes,’ Rook said with a sad smile, ‘there was still some magic in that old quiver after so many centuries gone by. Such a shame you had to fire the last arrow. I fear it may never work again.’
‘I recovered a number of arrows,’ Tristan said. ‘I put them back in the quiver, and I waited and waited, but it seems it has lost its magic.’
‘Such a pity,’ Rook said, staggering for a moment with a look of great pain. Tristan rushed to his aid, but the man shooed him aside. ‘I’m perfectly fine, boy. No need to worry.’
‘You were the real hero in my book,’ Tristan said with a grin. ‘I never knew you could wield real magic?’
‘All followers of the Faith can wield a little,’ Rook said. ‘My mentor was more focused on the written word, and he afforded me very little time to practice. I am certainly no Magician!’
‘Was pretty darn impressive though.’
‘Thank you, Tristan. Like you said, “I just did what I had to do.”’
‘I couldn’t have done it without you,’ Tristan said in earnest.
‘And if not for you I dread to think what might have become of poor dear Elysia,’ Rook replied. ‘Her father will never forget what you did for her, Tristan. You’re moving up in the world, boy! That is for sure.’
‘I won’t let it get to my head,’ Tristan said earnestly.
‘Oh really?’ Rook asked, appearing quite amused. ‘They have a name for you now too, you know?’
‘I hope it’s a good name.’ Tristan said.
‘Oh, it’s a good one,’ Rook replied with a grin. ‘They’re calling you “The Archer.” My eyes-and-ears about the court report it being whispered in the streets in many places. There has reportedly also been an influx of young boys playing in the streets with toy bows and arrows. Claiming that they are the famed Archer, Lord Tristan. You’ll start up a cult if you’re not too careful, boy.’
‘I’m only glad that she’s okay,’ he said.
‘Thanks to you, Tristan. You did a bloody fine job, my boy. The Captain of the Guard has been giving his soldiers a right dressing down. From what I’ve heard so far, most of them ran off down one hallway, when you used the arrow to discover that the demon was using a decoy and had escaped down the other hall! Lady Elysia will never call you slow-witted again I do believe. Bloody clever of you, boy. Figuring that out while the majority of the Wolf Guard were running about chasing their own tails.’
‘The arrows were guiding me,’ Tristan replied.
‘Thank heavens you both received those talismans when you did. It was just in the nick of time.’ He patted Tristan gently on the shoulder before a deep sigh. ‘Well, I’ll be heading off to the infirmary to get these bandages changed.’
‘I’ll escort you,’ Tristan insisted.
‘Very kind of you,’ Rook said. ‘Oh, and I nearly forgot, the Lady Elysia has a surprise for you at tonight’s feast. So be sure you don’t dally between your Confirmation and the beginning of the evening.’
‘I’ll be on time,’ Tristan said. ‘Now let’s go get your burns looked after.’ He brought his hands together in prayer position as he said in a feminine tone, ‘My hero!’
Rook chuckled lightly as Tristan proceeded to help him down the hall.
***
That evening, after his Sacrament of Confirmation ceremony, Tristan made his way to the feast tables, arranged in the Garden Courtyard, within the Lower Royal Bailey. The courtyard was wide as a wheat field, a massive rectangular formation of bluestone paving with the walls of the Bailey rising so far in the distance they were not visible at night.
He sat in his father’s seat, as the Lord of the Castle was still off defending the realm. Elysia sat beside him, and as the evening wound on, he began to wonder about her surprise. She gave no hint of it, other than saying she hoped he had ‘a very pleasant evening.’
It was after the main meals were served that Terrence Silver-Tongue, the Court Bard, stepped into the lantern light of the feast tables. He entered the scene not far from the head table where Tristan and Elysia both were seated. He needed only to clear his throat for a sudden hush to fall over the crowd. At this he grinned like a proud wolf.
Dressed in the finery of a nobleman’s bard, bright silks and a flowing cloak of patchwork colours, his gaze was piercing blue ice, hair white as snow with a thick moustache and short forked beard. Not particularly tall, but the way he held himself deserved attention. And he got it instantly, as all eyes turned to him in anticipation.
On his head was a bright silk hat shaped similarly to that of a Magician. Wide brimmed and conical with a portion flopping down the side. He was an impressive sight! Terrence spoke in a clear rich tone, captivating his audience as he stated, ‘What a wonderous affair I see taking place before me. Nobility and distinguished members of the Royal Wolf Guard gathered to celebrate the Spring Festival of the Tree-King, El’Tihir.’ He waved a hand up high and his words were met with laughter and applause.
He cleared his throat again, resting that hand on the neck of the lute that hung across his chest by a fine leather strap across his shoulder. All was silent once more. He smiled, and then stated in a rather delighted tone, ‘But this evening we are gathered to celebrate a rather more special occasion than usual. I would like very much to take this opportunity to pay an esteemed tribute to our budding new hero, Lord Tristan!’ He shouted Tristan’s name, and the entire courtyard began to roar and shout in tribute, the women laughing and the men thumping their tables, shouting, ‘Lord Tristan the Brave! Lord Tristan the Archer!’
After some time, all eyes returned to the Bard, who cleared his throat once again, his gaze darting left and right with a slightly angered cast. He then began to play a fine tune, something Tristan had never heard before. ‘This masterpiece was written in just the last three days by our very own Lady Elysia, in honour of the bravery and quick thinking of her hero, Lord Tristan.’ There was a light shudder of applause as Elysia smiled at him and he stared back in disbelief.
Then Terrence Silver-Tongue sang the words:
This is a ballad, of the son of Elenore,
Whom our Lord has mourned, for evermore,
Guardian of the Snow Wolf, Neverend,
On whom the Prophecies say, all our lives depend,
The mention of his mother stirred up feelings of anguish for Tristan once again. The Bard looked left and right again with that angry cast, until four minstrels slowly stepped into the light of the tables, playing lutes to the same tune, and joining in for the next verse. They sang of the night the demon attacked, of Pastor Rook’s brave attempts to destroy the demon, and the demon’s inability to capture the wolf-pup, because Elysia was clutching Neverend to her chest. And they sang of the enchanted necklace that protected them both.
Before the next verse however, more lanterns lit up in the distance, beyond the tables, with both Tristan and Elysia now facing a full-sized orchestra that was revealed by the new sources of light. They began to play a new version of the tune, with all manner of instruments joined in to create a harmonious symphony that became a glorious experience!
A group of the finest of female singers took up the next verse:
When the demon stole away his Elysia dear,
Lord Tristan’s heart, must have filled with fear,
But he fought so bravely, and he was so bold,
As he sought that demon with his arrows of gold,
The next verse was sung by the Court Bard alone once again:
Yes, the demon stole away his Elysia fair,
But Lord Tristan did not give in to despair,
No, he did not scream, and he did not shout,
He chased that demon, and he sought him out,
At this point, dozens more male singers walked into the light of the feast tables, bearing lanterns, and singing in a deep bold chant for the chorus.
For Elysia clutched the wolf, Neverend,
On whom now, all of our lives depend,
Yes, he chased that demon with magic of old,
From a light that shone on his arrows of gold,
The chorus had been sung a number of times throughout these verses, and it was repeated a number of times before the end. Towards the end of the song Tristan was nearly moved to tears by the splendour of it all. He could believe the words and the music were written by Elysia, even in just three days’ time. The girl was a genius after all. He just could not believe that she had written them for him! Then in stunned wonder, he watched and heard as all the guests and attendants of the feast stood and took up the last two verses.
That demon was cunning, and his plan was unclear,
But Lord Tristan never gave in to fear,
He sought his beloved, like the heroes of old,
Seeking out the path with his arrows of gold,
It seemed that they had all been learning their part for as long as it took for them to prepare! At this point tears really did fill his eyes. They sang the chorus one last time, then sang the final verse.
Lord Tristan’s plan was brilliant to behold,
As our lord’s men witnessed his genius unfold,
And that demon screamed in a voice so cold,
When the Archer pierced his eye with his arrow of gold!
The entire crowd burst into more uproarious laughter and applause, thumping tables, and shouting, ‘Lord Tristan the Archer! Lord Tristan our Hero!’ He began to feel like slumping down in his chair with embarrassment, but Elysia took his hand and encouraged him to stand. His legs felt like lead, his brain was all fuzzy, but he stood, and she whispered in his ear, ‘You should start to bow, silly!’ And so, he gave an adequate bow, and the cheers and applause erupted like the fierce rumble of thunder.
After a time, the Bard strummed a few more strings, until the crowd settled down to silence, and he sang the last:
A tale of such a hero has never before been told,
As when Tristan beat the demon with his arrows of gold.