#Eastern Fiddler Ray

[aralezinspace]

Summer Knight Part 1

When Crown Prince Morpheus is summoned to his father's court for the summer, he expects it to be just as tedious and aggravating as any other season spent in the Dreaming's capitol. What he doesn't expect is an attempted kidnapping, a successful kidnapping, uncovering designs on the Dreaming's throne, and a handsome esquire he really isn't supposed to fall in love with. How can he not, when Hob Gadling sees him for who he is, and not just his station? How can he not, when Hob is willing to burn down the world for him? Or: Prince!Morpheus/Commoner!Hob Gadling medieval/fantasy AU

~~Masterlist~~

After three months (probably more tbh) here it is! My contribution to the Centennial Husbands Big Bang.

This would not have been possible without the support of the entire Sadman server, for which I am endlessly (haha) thankful. @delta-pavonis and @signiorbenedickofpadua, I wouldn’t have been able to finish this without your eyes and encouragement. Thank you for letting me scream about these boys at/with you, for ideas when I got stuck, for helping me tease out the snags. Y’all are fantastic. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE

This beautiful incredible art by @wolf-and-raven-dreaming / @ambarden I’m just blown away. Thank you so much for bringing such a beautiful moment to life, especially one that I didn’t get to give as much detail in this fic. I’m obsessed with it, prob gonna make it my phone background 💖

If this story inspires you to create something of your own, please share with me so I can keysmash and gush over what you make!

Divider by @cafekitsune

Prologue

Once, in a time out of thought and memory, there was a realm called the Dreaming- so named because a place so magical and splendid could only possibly exist in one’s most vivid imaginings. The weather was always as it should or needed to be, the land lush and bountiful, even in the harshest climates. The people of the land were, on the whole, prosperous and contented. The Dreaming was not without its troubles and hardships and tragedies- no land is, no matter how prosperous-  and for some, life was rather hard, but never unbearable.

Like any kingdom in a faerie story, the Dreaming was ruled by a king, a queen, and their children. This story, however, only concerns one, the third son, Prince Morpheus Aeterna. Morpheus and his six siblings each ruled a shire within the Dreaming, with the capital city of Istoria on the eastern coast, the lands of the Dreaming appearing to fan out from the city like rays of the rising sun. 

Morpheus was lord of one of the Dreaming’s most important and vital border shires- after all, that’s what you did with a third child, a second son, with a great aptitude for ruling. One who also happened to be heir to the throne, the next in line to be called Dream King. His shire was called Fiddler’s Green- the land was varied, a little corner of everything: snow capped mountains, lush fields of vibrant grass and wildflowers, bountiful forests, a beach of black sand bordering a navy inland sea. 

Morpheus’ kingdom shared a border with the realm of Fawney Rigg, a land of dense thickets and haunting mists and old, angry trees. It was ruled by King Roderick Burgess, a ruthless and bitter old man who should have had many happy years yet before him. But, his greed and jealousy were near endless; he had already conquered several other realms by war, subterfuge, or a combination of both. In the twilight of his life, he set his sights on the Dreaming, and it is here our story begins.

“My lord?”

Morpheus was jolted from his wandering thoughts by Lucienne, his most trusted advisor.

“My lord, a message has arrived from your father the king.”

A frown etched itself onto the Prince’s face as he pushed his breakfast to the side- what an aggravating way to start his morning. He took the tightly rolled scroll of thick, handmade paper and unrolled it with long, bony fingers. His frown grew more pronounced the further he read.

“My lord?” Lucienne was almost hesitant, her fingers tight around the ledger she carried. “What news from his majesty?” Morpheus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture he had picked up from his father despite his best intentions.

“It is a summons,” he ground out. “He wishes me to attend him at court for the summer.” 

Lucienne frowned with a pang of sympathy. To say that Morpheus and his father King Chronos Aeterna did not get along was well beyond an understatement. Morpheus was the opposite of everything his father had wanted him to be, showing more interest and aptitude in creative and scholarly pursuits than learning the craft of war, as was expected of a crown prince responsible for strategically valuable border territories.

Spending any amount of time at his father’s court was tedious at best. An entire season was sure to be nigh unbearable. 

He gave a resigned sigh. “Begin making travel arrangements. I will draft a response to my father.” He gave the order with all the flat dread of someone about to face the noose. It was going to be a long summer. 

And so it came to pass that Morpheus began the four day journey, following the border of his land and Fawney Rigg until they reached the Gates of Horn and Ivory, massive gates and walls carved of white stone that spanned the entire border of Istoria. If one walked along the wall from end to end, they would see the entire history of the Dreaming laid out before them, carved into the stone. Morpheus could feel his hackles rise as the gates creaked and groaned open, allowing him and his party into the bustling city. He thought he could feel the mythical creatures carved into the gates frowning at him. Folks going about their business immediately stepped out of the road and bowed, looking up through their lashes, hoping to catch sight of the Prince and not just a flutter of emerald livery in the wind. 

The procession slowly made its way to the palace, where the King, Queen, and their retainers were waiting at the top of the great stone stairs. Marble walls and gates that were miniature recreations of those guarding the city, depicting the history of the Aeterna line, were flung wide open, knights standing at attention. Banners bearing the golden Aeterna crest on deep blue fabric flapped in the breeze.

Morpheus’ first thought was that his mother seemed pale. Queen Nocturna had always been fair- Morpheus owed his complexion to her, along with his bright blue eyes- but under the light of the late afternoon sun she looked frail and sickly in her midnight gown, as if the slightest breeze would scatter her into dust. Her hair had long since faded from inky black to the shining silver of the moon, but it lacked the luster Morpheus remembered. Had it really been that long since he had seen his parents? Had something happened?

Beside her, King Chronos stood as regal and stony as ever. There were a few new lines on his face, and a few more gray hairs in his dark beard, but the frown he had reserved for his third child since Morpheus reached his majority was dour and disapproving as ever.

The Prince was announced as he dismounted and approached the foot of the staircase, a herald bellowing his numerous titles for the assembled. When that list was exhausted, he ascended the stairs until he was two steps below where the King and Queen stood, leaving him shorter than his parents– normally he was of a height with his father, and half a head taller than his mother.

Chronos shook his son’s hand with a stiffness only Morpheus could see. “Be welcome, my son.” The King ground his teeth. “It is good to see you.” 

Morpheus quickly bowed his head with a curt, “Father.”

Once Chronos released his hand, the Queen enfolded Morpheus in her willowy arms. She could feel some of the tension leave his body in the relative safety of her embrace. Her smile was beaming when she pulled away to look at him.

“You look well, Morpheus. I’ve missed you, my dear.” 

Morpheus kissed her cheek in greeting with a tenderly murmured, “Mother.” The Queen had always been a refuge for her son when his father insisted on Morpheus being someone he was not- she encouraged him to pursue his passions, constantly reminding him that there was more than one way to be a strong King. Always out of earshot of Chronos- even to his wife and son, he was their King first, a father and husband second, and his word was law.

“Come,” Chronos said to Morpheus, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “You must be weary from your journey. Be welcome and make yourselves comfortable.” He clapped Morpheus on the back and guided him into the palace, followed by his retinue. Once the royals were out of sight, the crowd dispersed, the spectacle now ended. Only one man lingered near the bottom corner of the ancient palace stairs, leaning on a stout quarterstaff.

It is here necessary to briefly introduce Robert Gadling. Orphaned at seven, he was one of a good number of parentless children, now adults, who did odd jobs for the businesses of the city, as well as the government- everything from construction to loading and unloading ships’ cargo, from running messages to protection from overzealous loan collectors if need be. On occasion, a few would be hired by the day to work in the palace, mostly on structural repairs and maintenance.

Robert, or Hob as the townsfolk called him, was a natural born protector. He had never been one to back down from a fight, and, as he planned to live through all his fights, he dedicated much of his time to developing his skills. He would often be seen near the docks or the entrance to the market, talking with foreign merchants and their guards, asking them to teach him what they knew of combat in exchange for a day’s labor. His friends constantly warned him that knowledge wouldn’t buy him food or lodging, but he would just laugh. 

It was in this fashion he honed his skills over the years and taught them to his fellows. He could disarm anyone in a matter of seconds and have a man twice his size on his back in under a minute (so the children said). He had even studied the blade, something his fellow brawlers stayed away from- too much like the royals and knights, they argued, and rolled their eyes when Hob insisted on learning anyway. No one would think it to look at him, that an average sized and modestly handsome day laborer would have such a knack for survival and zest for life. 

Hob’s best friend noted the glazed, entranced look on his face and gave him a teasing shove. “Come on, Hob,” he goaded, “Leave the royals to their tea and cakes, we’ve got work to do.” 

“Piss off, Adrian,” Hob replied as he returned the shove with a brief smile. “Not every day you get to see one roll into town. Besides, I’ve never seen Prince Morpheus before. Heard the rumors, but I had no idea he was so- so…” That glazed look returned as he searched for the right word. 

“Arrogant?” Adrian supplied. “Sour? Pompous?”

“Beautiful.” Hob’s response was barely a whisper, as if the sentiment was something he wanted to keep secret but couldn't stop it from slipping out. 

Adrian rolled his bottle green eyes. This was not the first time Hob had been besotted with someone after a glance, nor was it likely to be the last. The man had so much love in his heart to give, he just also happened to have a bad habit of choosing the worst possible people to bestow that love upon. Adrian could only hope this would be one of his shorter and less depressing devotions. Gods knew Hob had less than a figment of a chance with the Prince.

“Come on, lover boy, Waldren’s waiting for us.”

Adrian wrapped an arm around Hob’s shoulders and turned him away from the palace. Hob went willingly, but not without one last misty-eyed glance over his shoulder, wondering idly what the Prince was doing behind those marble walls. 

Chapter 1

According to Morpheus, attending his father’s court and sitting in on council meetings fit the definition of ‘cruel and unusual punishment’. He rarely had anything to contribute to the other nobles’ gossip- not that he wanted to get involved in the first place- and the council advisors just loved passing off his suggestions as their own. His presence amounted to little more than an interesting trinket brought out at opportune moments to curry favor- or, in some cases, to parade in front of potential spouses. It seemed that this summer would see at least a dozen suitors visiting the palace over the course of the five and a half months Morpheus would be at court.

Finally, one sweltering and humid summer day, the Prince reached his tipping point. He was hot and sticky, aggravated and on edge. This breaking point came around mid morning, when he had had enough of listening to the pompous treasurer drone on and on. Without preamble, he rose from his seat and stomped out of the council hall, ignoring the calls of his father and the advisors. Everyone he passed in the halls jumped out of his way, able to feel the ire rolling off him like the heat rising from the cobblestones.

He needed to get out, away from the palace, and burn off some of this aggravation before he did or said something rash.

His first stop was his chambers, where he changed from the fancier attire expected at court to a loose-fitting gray shirt and black cotton breeches tucked into tall riding boots. Already feeling a little better, he made a beeline for the stables. His piebald mare Jessamy was munching happily in her stall, but perked up when she heard Morpheus’ footsteps. The Prince waved off the anxious stable boy who stumbled over the words, “Should I saddle her sir?” in favor of slipping on the bridle himself and swinging up onto her bare back.

With a few clicks of his tongue and a gentle nudge with his heels, Jessamy gamely trotted out of her stall, past the stable boy, and all the way into the courtyard before tossing her head and cantering out the palace’s southern gate, away from the city. 

The paths through the forest were wide and well kept. Morpheus followed the main road for about a mile before turning onto a trail that was barely visible, unless one knew where to look. He slowed Jessamy to a walk to better navigate the tall grass and rushes that threatened to overtake the narrow trail. This far into the woods, all the Prince could hear was the birds, the wind, and the puffs of his and Jessamy’s breaths. A relieved sigh rattled out of his lungs and he slumped slightly on her back. 

The trail ended at a small lake surrounded by willow trees. The air was cooler here, almost like stepping into another world. Baby shoots of grass were starting to poke through the previous year’s fallen leaves, and twittering birds fluttered between branches. The lake was surrounded by intermittently placed boulders of various sizes, giving it the appearance of a faerie ring, or a window to another world. Some of these boulders were light and bare, others dark with patches of lichen and moss. They all made for excellent perches to sit on and dip one’s feet in the water. 

Tiny fish swam about in their schools, the concaves of their nests visible on the lakebed through the crystal clear water. A frog croaked from somewhere within the leafy plants growing stubbornly between the rocks and into the lake.

Morpheus dismounted with another sigh and loosely tied Jessamy’s reins to a branch. The mare shook her head again and began to delicately nibble on the new spring grass. While she enjoyed her snack, Morpheus sat on one of the flatter boulders at the edge of the lake and tugged his boots off, followed by his socks, then his shirt. 

The moan he let out when his feet slipped into the cold water was almost indecent. He let his eyes flutter shut and his head tilt back as he dug his toes into the soft silt. After a few quiet minutes, he rolled his breeches up to his knees and waded further into the lake, his arms held out slightly for balance as the sand shifted beneath his feet. He waded deeper and deeper, all the way to mid-thigh, not caring in the least that he would be riding back with soaked trousers. Adding one more item to the list of things his father berated him for wouldn’t make a difference. 

Morpheus already felt much better than when he left the palace, but he could still feel his hackles bristling, could still sense the undercurrent of tension and resentment running through his shoulders. The cold water was, apparently, not to be enough to cool him off. 

With an almost aggravated sigh (how could it have come to this?), Morpheus loosened the ties at his waist and reached past his undergarments into his breeches. A rumbling groan slipped past his self control as his fingers wrapped around his cock. His other hand shifted the waistband of his breeches so his cock could spring free, a shiver running down his spine at the contact with the humid air. His toes curled into the lakebed as he moved his hand faster, occasionally running his thumb over the slit. 

He had worked himself to full hardness and was eagerly chasing his high when a branch snapped in the trees behind him. He jumped, startled, and his head swiveled, looking for the source of the sound. The Prince held still, so still that no new ripples formed in the water around his ankles. 

After moments that seemed like years, Morpheus relaxed ever so slightly. It was probably just a deer stepping on a dry twig. His cock throbbed insistently, as if urging him to get back to the task at hand. Morpheus shook his head and turned his focus back to between his legs. 

Another rustle in the bushes, this one closer. Morpheus frowned; he had now been twice interrupted, and the agitation was creeping back into his bones. “Who’s there?” he called, hoping he sounded more angry than anxious. He tucked himself back into his trousers and sloshed out of the lake, muscles coiled in anticipation. 

Out of the trees stepped a man. Clearly a commoner, if his worn shirt and breeches were anything to go by. Dark hair was pulled into a respectably long tail at the nape of his neck, and a neatly trimmed beard of the same dark hair covered the lower half of his face. Morpheus could see a small patch of yet more dark hair peeking out from the low V of the man’s shirt. Earthy eyes sparkled in the patches of sunlight that made their way through the trees, and they were hazily focused on the bulge in the Prince’s trousers. He had clearly been lost in his own thoughts, an apple raised to his lips as if he were about to take a bite. 

Morpheus was still frozen, but for an entirely different reason. For a commoner, this man was exceedingly handsome- had he been born to the nobility, he would have lords and ladies alike falling over themselves to win his favor. 

Hob jumped when his mind registered he was standing before the Prince. For one, he thought that he and some of his friends were the only ones who knew about this little lake in the forest, and, two, holy shit that was Prince Morpheus standing in front of him, barefoot and bare chested, a semi creating a small bulge in the front of his breeches. 

“Oh fuck!” The apple flew out of his hand- he fumbled to catch it, just barely holding on to the fruit as he sank into a low bow, one leg in front of the other, back leg bent, eyes firmly fixed on the ground, arms out to the sides as he had seen the other nobles do. 

Morpheus held up a placating palm as he awkwardly said, “Please rise, there is no need to stand on ceremony,” even though the other couldn’t see the gesture. 

Hob rose out of his bow and placed his hands behind his back so Morpheus wouldn’t see his nervous fidgeting. How was it possible this man was a prince, was incredibly gorgeous, AND had a voice that could lure any sailor to their watery grave? “A-apologies, sir, Highness, I- I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place-” He swallowed hard, trying in vain to control his nervous babble. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, I can just-” 

“It’s quite alright.” Morpheus chuckled in spite of himself- it sounded a little strained to his own ears, but maybe that was because the erection that had fled in his momentary fear was starting to make a comeback at the sight of the beautiful man before him. “I wasn’t aware others knew of this spot either.” 

Hob laughed as well, tense and awkward, scratching the back of his head. But oh gods, his smile could light up the darkest of dungeons. Morpheus could feel his heart clench in his chest, already wanting to see that smile again. The Prince asked, “What is your name?”

“Robert,” Hob answered quickly with another little bow. “Robert Gadling. But my friends call me Hob.” He let out a bashfully choked laugh. “I already know who you are, Prince Morpheus. I mean, just about the whole realm knows who you are. Your Highness.” 

Morpheus had taken a breath to respond when there was more rustling in the trees behind Hob, much more than what could be created by a single man or animal. The Prince froze again, lowered into a slight crouch. Hob immediately whirled around and positioned himself protectively between Morpheus and the tree line. His apple lay forgotten on the forest floor as he settled into a ready stance, his hands curled into loose fists, ready to strike or protect his torso. 

Morpheus had always been independent to the point of being described as a loner, therefore the swirling feeling in his gut at the sight of Hob ready to defend him was completely foreign. It curled in his stomach and slithered between his legs, bringing back that inner heat the cold lake water had once absorbed. And if Hob didn’t see him glancing at the curve of his ass every few seconds… Well, that was between Morpheus and the trees. 

The trees and grasses rustled again to reveal two men in dark gray rags, the lower halves of their faces covered with another piece of fabric. Dirt smudged the visible skin around their eyes. They were each carrying a wicked looking dagger, the blades sharp even if the handles were dotted with rust. 

Hob immediately knew these were bandits- highwaymen that lurked in the trees and waited for the opportune moment to pounce. And they had just found quite the prize.

Jessamy snorted and stomped her feet, sensing the imminent danger. The bandits inched closer, step by step, knives held threateningly aloft. Hob glared at them, refusing to back down, hoping they would develop some sense and realize that whatever they had planned was not a good idea. One of them chuckled in eager anticipation.

“Turn around,” Hob ground out softly, eyes darting between the two, “and I won’t have to bash your heads in.” The bandits exchanged a momentary glance, as if debating the merit of Hob’s words. Apparently, they reached the decision that they had none, because they continued to advance, knives gleaming and ready to cut into flesh. 

Morpheus crept back towards the lake, inching toward Jessamy, heart pounding in his throat. He had never encountered bandits before; the closest he had ever come to someone who had broken the law was on formal inspections of rehabilitation facilities where the offenders had been cleaned up and supervised by wardens. Now, he didn’t have wardens or his retinue or even his hunting knife- his only protection from these two bandits was another commoner who could just as easily decide Morpheus was worth the trouble of kidnapping, or killing, or both. 

“Last warning,” Hob growled, the bandits now within striking distance.

The one on the right turned to his companion: “Get him.” 

Hob swore then yelled to Morpheus, “Go! Leave!” as the first bandit came at him with the knife aloft, intending to bring it down into Hob’s shoulder, or wherever he could reach. He sidestepped the blow and redirected the bandit’s momentum so that he went stumbling towards the water. 

The second bandit charged forward, knife point aimed at Hob’s chest. He grabbed the bandit’s wrist with enough force to make him drop the knife and drove his knee into the bandit’s side. The attacker grunted and doubled over, using the forward momentum to drive his shoulder into Hob’s stomach.

It was a lucky shot that knocked the wind out of him. Hob shoved the bandit away from him, hoping to buy a moment to catch his breath. 

The first bandit had recovered his footing and rushed in from behind Hob, wrapping wiry arms around a golden throat. Hob’s eyes went wide as his breath was cut off, the bandit only squeezing harder as he struggled. The two assailants coordinated their next move with eye contact alone, one holding Hob by the throat while the other stepped into striking distance and threw a sloppy but strong punch at Hob’s face.

The bandit’s knuckles hit him square on the cheekbone. Hob cried out as his head snapped to the side. The man’s other fist came up and landed a punch across his mouth, hard enough to make his nose bleed and teeth rattle and split his bottom lip open. 

“Fuck-” The swear was strained and came out with blood and spit. His vision starting to blacken around the edges, Hob reared his arm up and drove his elbow into the soft midsection at his back. Instantly, his windpipe was free as arms released him and the bandit doubled over in pain. Hob took several gasping breaths as he turned to the bandit who had been choking him and drove his fist into his temple, all the force and energy going down, hard enough to knock him out. 

Hob turned his attention to the remaining bandit. The scrawny man was in a ready stance, hands curled into loose fists held up by his face, but clearly hesitant after watching his partner literally get beaten into the ground. Hob grinned, feral and almost cocky as he mimicked the man’s stance- on a closer look, he was barely a man, just an older boy with his first whiskers. Hob didn’t want to hurt the kid, but he may not have a choice.

With unexpected ferocity, the boy lunged closer, fist ready to fly. Hob dodged one punch, then another, the third glancing off his shoulder- poor lad was already panting for breath, sparking just a hint of pity. 

“Come on, lad,” he tried reasoning, “just walk away.”

The young man’s only response was a desperate yell as he charged Hob, going for a grapple. Hob easily deflected him with a step and a twist, sending the bandit falling hard on his back. Hob settled into his stance, and with a well-aimed kick to his temple, he too was dealt with.

Silence suddenly rang in the clearing, broken only by Hob’s slightly panting breaths. His hands were still clenched into ready fists at his sides.

Morpheus had sprinted a quarter of the way around the lake to where he had tethered Jessamy. He had been ready to bolt at Hob’s word, now he soothed the mare with soft words and gentle caresses. It was like he was watching the whole thing through hazy glass, observing and present but removed, just left of in tune with the world. His chest felt tight, his hands shook uncontrollably as he tried to process all that had happened in a few short moments.

Hob moved out of his combative stance to crouch beside one of their would-be assailants. Morpheus quickly retied Jessamy to the branch and walked over to Hob, feeling extremely awkward and somewhat out of his depth. What did one say to the handsome stranger who had undoubtedly saved him from being abducted, if not worse? ‘Thank you’ did not seem to be anywhere near enough, far less than what Hob was owed for his deed. And yet, the words ‘thank you’ seemed to stick in his throat, refusing to come out.

He stood uncomfortably over Hob, who was pawing through the bandits’ clothes, hoping to find some clue as to their motives, and whether they went beyond simple highway robbery. The Prince had taken a fortifying breath to thank his protector when Hob ground out a curse in another language he had learned from a merchant. In his hand was a worn letter, folded and held together with a black seal. A sigil of stars and other symbols of magick was pressed into the wax.

It was, without a doubt, the seal of Roderick Burgess, King of Fawney Rigg.

“You might want to see this, Highness.” Hob rose to his feet and handed Morpheus the letter. His free hand swiped at his split lip and bloody nose- at least it wasn’t broken, again. He could feel the flesh around his cheekbone swelling painfully. Hob caught the Prince’s sympathetic flinch, small as it was, as he took the paper. Icy eyes quickly scanned its contents, dark brows furrowing closer together the more he read.

“I must return to the palace.” The words tumbled out of him as he refolded the letter and stuffed it in the waistband of his breeches. Moving quickly, Morpheus tugged his shirt back over his head and boots onto his feet as he continued, “My father needs to be made aware of what happened. Burgess sending armed men across our border with orders to watch and intercept me is no idle threat.” 

He unhitched Jessamy and used a fallen log as a mounting block, swinging a lithe leg over her back and expertly gathering the reins. He looked down at Hob as he wheeled her around, holding himself with the distant majesty of a monarch despite his disheveled state. Hob could only stare up in awe, a worshiper at the foot of his god. Dappled beams of sunlight illuminated the Prince like a halo, and Hob was sure in that moment the Prince was indeed fae touched as the rumors went, if not outright divine in his own right. 

“I think it is no exaggeration to say you saved my life,” Morpheus proclaimed, even if the forest and the man before him were the only ones to hear the royal edict. “I am in your debt, Robert Gadling. And I will settle that debt once this threat to the Dreaming is resolved.”

Hob bowed at his words, low and slow and reverent. A few globs of blood dribbled out of his nose and onto the grass. As he rose, he said, “Then at least let me escort you out of the forest and to the main road. I doubt there are any more of these men lurking around, Highness, but I would feel better seeing you to safety.” The last part was true, but Hob figured he probably shouldn’t mention the other reason for his offer: Prince Morpheus had utterly enchanted him, and this was likely to be the last time he’d see the man up close, let alone speak to him one to one, and he wasn’t ready for it to be over.

Pale, elegant fingers twitched briefly around the reins as Morpheus considered his words. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for the right response. Finally, he settled on, “I would be glad of your company. Let us go.” 

He clicked his tongue to get Jessamy moving at a walk, Hob keeping pace beside her. They were silent as they picked their way back to the main forest road, but Hob was on high alert. His eyes darted back and forth, fists clenching and releasing in time with his steps. It was relatively easy to ignore the stickiness of drying blood around his mouth and chin when he was so focused on looking for signs of danger. Thankfully, the trip passed without incident. Morpheus pulled Jessamy to a halt once they were inside the city gates.

“My thanks again, Robert Gadling.” Jessamy pawed at the ground as Morpheus spoke, eager to be back in the safety of her stall. “I do not like leaving my debts unpaid.” The unspoken request for Hob to name his price hung in the air like a phantom. Hob merely gave the Prince a gentle smile and bowed again, still formal but relaxed and easy. 

“This time spent with you is payment enough, Highness.” He paused and bit his lip, plucking up his courage with a slight wince of pain. “May I… Could I call on you? If my day’s work brings me to the palace.” 

Morpheus turned the request over in his mind long enough for Jessamy to grow impatient. He soothed her with a few gentle pats on her neck. “You may,” he finally replied. “As long as my duties permit, I will be glad to receive you.” Morpheus had already turned his horse and urged her into a trot before Hob could say a proper farewell. The gentle goodbye hung unspoken on his lips. Finally, he sighed and kicked a stray pebble as he made his way to the boarding house he called home for a bath and some rest.

[aquilathefighter]

Fluffbruary 22: Dawn

Find all of my @fluffbruary ficlets on AO3 here!

Fandom: The Sandman (2022)

Relationship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Dream feels Hob’s connection to the Dreaming blur. From where they sit in Fiddler’s Green, limbs tangled together over a gingham blanket he whispers in Hob’s ear.

“You will wake soon, beloved.” Hob groans, clinging tighter to him.

“Don’t wanna,” he says, muffled by Dream’s robes.

“You must. I will join you in the Waking.” Dream looks at the back of Hob’s head fondly. Always so reluctant to leave, even though he will still be cuddled on the other side.

“Fine,” Hob grumbles as he fades from Dream’s arms.

His eyes flutter open as dawn breaks. The bed is warm from the sun beaming through the eastern window. He reaches out an arm to the other side of the bed, hand coming in contact with miles of smooth skin.

Rolling over, he croaks, “Good morning, love.”

Dream is laying on his side, one arm propping him up. He’s shirtless, laying directly in the sunbeams like a very large housecat. His pale skin glows, and if Hob didn’t know better, he’d think he was one of those vampires from the books his students were into a few years ago.

Hob scoots closer, getting an arm under Dream to pull him to his chest. Hob craves skin-to-skin contact. It’s electric: the way Dream’s bare chest rubs against his own furry one, the cool touch of Dream’s hands against his back, burying his face in the crook of his neck and pressing kisses there. As their legs intertwine, Hob lets out a happy sigh.

“Mmm, you’re so lovely. I will never get tired of this.” He squeezes Dream tighter, lifting his head to kiss him.

“I believe I should be saying that, Hob Gadling,” Dream rumbles. Hob shivers at the way he purrs his name, somehow both cool and fond.

He can’t resist Dream’s wiles any longer. He rolls on top of his lover, pressing kisses all over his face until finally landing on his lips. Their lips interlock, forgetting about morning breath and achy joints. Hob presses his whole-body devotion to Dream’s lips until he has to breathe.

Pulling back, he pants, “Can we just stay in bed all day? I don’t have to be anywhere, promise.”

Dream smiles up at him. “Certainly, my lover.”

At his utterance, Hob drops his full weight onto Dream and rolls them over, closing his eyes. He takes the time to enjoy Dream’s weight on him, the feel of his lithe muscles against Hob’s own body. Dream buries his face in Hob’s neck, inhaling his scent, feeling his vast mind settle.

As the sun’s rays rise higher in the sky, the pair hardly move, simply enjoying the togetherness of their bodies.

[dailymarinefish]

day 74, 06/04/24 - fish of the day is the eastern fiddler ray (Trygonorrhina fasciata)

[laresearchette]

Saturday, July 01, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

I'll be on vacation for a week, so enjoy your Canada Day goodness. Enjoy the Amazing Race Canada on July 4th  and a four part CBC scripted series about the Lac--Megantic disaster on July 6th and 7th.

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN BACK TO SCHOOL BANANAS BILL & TED’S EXCELLENT ADVENTURE BILL & TED’S BOGUS JOURNEY CLASS THE DECAMERON DIRTY WORK FIDDLER ON THE ROOF FROGS HANG ‘EM HIGH HENRY V INTO THE BLUE INTO THE BLUE 2: THE REEF INVADERS FROM MARS MAC AND ME MOBY DICK NICHOLAS NICKLEBY ONCE BITTEN RED DAWN SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION THE SNOWMAN

CBC GEM CBC NEWS SPECIAL: CANADA DAY 2023

CRAVE TV CRAVE’S OH CANADA! COLLECTIONS PARKS AND RECREATION (Seasons 1-7) WE ARE MARSHALL WHO YOU GONNA CALL

NETFLIX CANADA BRIDESMAIDS THE DANISH GIRL THE DAYS DREAMGIRLS FOOL’S GOLD THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN GOING THE DISTANCE HELLO, MY NAME IS DORIS HORRIBLE BOSSES LEGENDS OF THE FALL MARIE ANTOINETTE MIDNIGHT EXPRESS MY GIRL THE NICE GUYS ODDBODS (Season 3) ONE PIECE: TV ORIGINAL 2 ONE PIECE: THRILLER BARK SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING THE SQUID AND THE WHALE TITANIC TRAINWRECK WORLD WAR Z

MLB BASEBALL (SN1) 2:00pm: Yankees vs. Cardinals (SN) 3:00pm: Red Sox vs. Jays (SN Now) 4:00pm: Giants vs. Mets (SN) 7:00pm: Rays vs. Mariners (SN) 10:00pm: Diamondbacks vs. Angels

CFL FOOTBALL (TSN/TSN3) 7:00pm: Blue Bombers vs. Alouettes

MLS SOCCER (TSN4) 7:30pm: Toronto FC vs. Real Salt Lake

WORLD LACROSSE MEN'S CHAMPIONSHIP (TSN2) 7:30pm: Gold Medal Game: Canada vs. United States

CANADA DAY IN THE CAPITAL (CBC) 8:00pm: Annual Canada Day celebrations on Parliament Hill, featuring a concert of Canadian classics and recent hits.

NATION UNTAMED (APTN) 8:00pm: Sam and Chuck journey to the boreal forest of northern Saskatchewan to experience traditional dogsledding and snowshoeing; they discover how a remote camp uses land-based learning initiatives to help keep Cree culture and language alive.

PLANNING ON FOREVER (W Network) 8:00pm: Emma, an events planner with no time for love, agrees to plan her sister's wedding in just six weeks with the help of Liam, whom Emma had a disastrous blind date with years ago.

BACK TO ROOTS (APTN) 8:30pm: Matricia harvests fresh bearberries which she uses to make a mixed berry crumble and a delicious bearberry iced tea; she finishes the episode by drumming and singing a song called "Okistitowin MISTA hiya."

THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT (DTour) 9:00pm: Charged with a brutal murder, a Connecticut man claims his innocence, insisting "the devil made me do it."

INFINITY POOL (Crave) 9:00pm: Guided by a seductive and mysterious woman, a couple on vacation venture outside the resort grounds and find themselves in a culture filled with violence, hedonism and untold horror.

THE JUSTICE OF BUNNY KING (Super Channel Fuse) 9:00pm: A mother of two with a sketchy past earns her keep by washing windows at traffic lights, hoping to earn back the custody of her kids. After promising her daughter a birthday party, she fights the social services and break the rules to keep her word.

[newmusicradionetwork]

Ramblin’ Jake “Church Ship Hawk”

With fan comments like Hoss I could listen to that all day long!!!!, Ramblin’ Jake is a country fiddler and singer who’s stepping up from the back line for one of Southern Virginia’s country favorites to share his own country sound. Growing up in an 1800s plantation farmhouse in Sumter, SC and later upbringing in Southern Virginia, the simple joys of country living are brought to life in his music. Ramblin’ Jake has performed with bands including The Culprits, Prairie Dusters, Black Pearl, Phoebus Rio, Hampton Rogues, Thru w/ Therapy and Mason Brown and The Shiners. Along the way he and his bandmates have picked up a few awards including Meona Music Award for Best Americana, Aiken Music Fest Award accompanying Mason Brown and multiple VEER Magazine Music awards for his popular music venue Victorian Station The Big Pink. His debut single “Hammock in July” reached #3 on Nashville New Music Weekly Country Charts for small market AM/FM Country and his second release, “Old Prince” reached #1. The Nashville Songwriter Association International (NSAI) included Ramblin’ Jake on their “Ones to Watch” list for July/Aug ’21 and he received a VEER Magazine Music Award as “Best Americana/Bluegrass/Old-Time” in Jan ’22. In Feb ’22 Ramblin’ Jake was nominated as Country Group of the Year by New Music Weekly Magazine. His most recent song “Crooked River”, collaborated with Ray Bruce, reached #1 for Eastern and Central U.S. regions on NMW AM/FM Country Charts. In May ’22, Ramblin’ Jake & Thru w/ Therapy opened for Tony Jackson and in Dec ’22 Ramblin’ Jake performed on stage with Nashville’s Andrea Whitt. In Jan ’23 Ramblin’ Jake received a nomination for “Best Bluegrass” by VEER Magazine Music Awards. Additional Artist/Song Information: Artist Name: Ramblin’ Jake Song Title: Church Ship Hawk Publishing: Victorian Station Big Pink Publishing Affiliation: ASCAP Album Title: Church Ship Hawk Record Label: Victorian Station Big Pink Read the full article

[newmusicweekly]

Ramblin’ Jake “Church Ship Hawk” now at Country radio: Radio/Media Download

With fan comments like Hoss I could listen to that all day long!!!!, Ramblin’ Jake is a country fiddler and singer who’s stepping up from the back line for one of Southern Virginia’s country favorites to share his own country sound. Growing up in an 1800s plantation farmhouse in Sumter, SC and later upbringing in Southern Virginia, the simple joys of country living are brought to life in his music. Ramblin’ Jake has performed with bands including The Culprits, Prairie Dusters, Black Pearl, Phoebus Rio, Hampton Rogues, Thru w/ Therapy and Mason Brown and The Shiners. Along the way he and his bandmates have picked up a few awards including Meona Music Award for Best Americana, Aiken Music Fest Award accompanying Mason Brown and multiple VEER Magazine Music awards for his popular music venue Victorian Station The Big Pink. His debut single “Hammock in July” reached #3 on Nashville New Music Weekly Country Charts for small market AM/FM Country and his second release, “Old Prince” reached #1. The Nashville Songwriter Association International (NSAI) included Ramblin’ Jake on their “Ones to Watch” list for July/Aug ’21 and he received a VEER Magazine Music Award as “Best Americana/Bluegrass/Old-Time” in Jan ’22. In Feb ’22 Ramblin’ Jake was nominated as Country Group of the Year by New Music Weekly Magazine. His most recent song “Crooked River”, collaborated with Ray Bruce, reached #1 for Eastern and Central U.S. regions on NMW AM/FM Country Charts. Read the full article

[spinstrackingsystem]

Ramblin’ Jake “Church Ship Hawk” now at Country radio: Radio/Media Download

With fan comments like Hoss I could listen to that all day long!!!!, Ramblin’ Jake is a country fiddler and singer who’s stepping up from the back line for one of Southern Virginia’s country favorites to share his own country sound. Growing up in an 1800s plantation farmhouse in Sumter, SC and later upbringing in Southern Virginia, the simple joys of country living are brought to life in his music. Ramblin’ Jake has performed with bands including The Culprits, Prairie Dusters, Black Pearl, Phoebus Rio, Hampton Rogues, Thru w/ Therapy and Mason Brown and The Shiners. Along the way he and his bandmates have picked up a few awards including Meona Music Award for Best Americana, Aiken Music Fest Award accompanying Mason Brown and multiple VEER Magazine Music awards for his popular music venue Victorian Station The Big Pink. His debut single “Hammock in July” reached #3 on Nashville New Music Weekly Country Charts for small market AM/FM Country and his second release, “Old Prince” reached #1. The Nashville Songwriter Association International (NSAI) included Ramblin’ Jake on their “Ones to Watch” list for July/Aug ’21 and he received a VEER Magazine Music Award as “Best Americana/Bluegrass/Old-Time” in Jan ’22. In Feb ’22 Ramblin’ Jake was nominated as Country Group of the Year by New Music Weekly Magazine. His most recent song “Crooked River”, collaborated with Ray Bruce, reached #1 for Eastern and Central U.S. regions on NMW AM/FM Country Charts. Read the full article

[airplayaccess]

Ramblin' Jake "Church Ship Hawk" now at Country radio: Radio/Media Download

With fan comments like Hoss I could listen to that all day long!!!!, Ramblin' Jake is a country fiddler and singer who's stepping up from the back line for one of Southern Virginia's country favorites to share his own country sound. Growing up in an 1800s plantation farmhouse in Sumter, SC and later upbringing in Southern Virginia, the simple joys of country living are brought to life in his music. Ramblin' Jake has performed with bands including The Culprits, Prairie Dusters, Black Pearl, Phoebus Rio, Hampton Rogues, Thru w/ Therapy and Mason Brown and The Shiners. Along the way he and his bandmates have picked up a few awards including Meona Music Award for Best Americana, Aiken Music Fest Award accompanying Mason Brown and multiple VEER Magazine Music awards for his popular music venue Victorian Station The Big Pink. His debut single "Hammock in July" reached #3 on Nashville New Music Weekly Country Charts for small market AM/FM Country and his second release, "Old Prince" reached #1. The Nashville Songwriter Association International (NSAI) included Ramblin' Jake on their "Ones to Watch" list for July/Aug '21 and he received a VEER Magazine Music Award as "Best Americana/Bluegrass/Old-Time" in Jan '22. In Feb '22 Ramblin' Jake was nominated as Country Group of the Year by New Music Weekly Magazine. His most recent song "Crooked River", collaborated with Ray Bruce, reached #1 for Eastern and Central U.S. regions on NMW AM/FM Country Charts. Read the full article

[terranlifeform]

Eastern fiddler ray (Trygonorrhina fasciata) eye in Manly, Australia

Sylke Rohrlach

[ralworm]

The first two of my wwdits merpeople designs!! I love deep sea creatures so it’s really fun assigning the main crew ^^ (and taking a lot of artistic liberties) 

Guillermo is an eastern fiddler ray (I know barbs are more discreet And that these rays don’t have them but… imo its funnier if he’s pretty Visually and Unexpectedly Lethal and the vampires ignore it lol)

Nandor is a frilled shark!! super scary but beautiful vibrant red frills <3

[marinebioblog]

Who is she! She’s an Eastern Fiddler Ray (Trygonorrhina fasciata). These cool dudes are a species of guitarfish!

[todropscience]

ARTIFICIAL REEFS COULD HELP HABITAT CONNECTION

Designed artificial reefs are intended to provide food and refuge for marine fish, to enhance species diversity and abundance. Artificial reefs are not constructed from materials of opportunity (rubble, scuttled vessels), but rather built from steel or concrete to a design that incorporates vertical relief, void space and water movement. The design and structure of these artificial reefs are believed to enhance fisheries by providing food and refuge to fish communities in an area where the availability of suitable habitat is limited.

Australian researchers used acoustic telemetry to track the movements of 10 eastern fiddler rays (Trygonorrhina fasciata), 17 Port Jackson sharks (Heterodontus portusjacksoni) and 18 bluespotted flathead (Platycephalus caeruleopunctatus) in relation to an artificial reef off the coast of Sydney. Fish tagged on the artificial reef showed a higher affinity to the site, compared to those tagged on natural reefs, Nevertheless, all three species moved frequently between the artificial and other nearby reefs, suggesting that artificial reefs may increase the connectivity between habitats. The moderate presence of these predators at the artificial reefs suggests that these species may contribute to some biomass production at this artificial reefs by incorporating this reef in their natural range. If the structure is well made, artificial reefs has the potential to enhance recreational fisheries and may alter the local distribution of predators and other species.

Reference (Open Access): Keller et al. 2017. Multispecies presence and connectivity around a designed artificial reef. Marine and Freshwater Research. 

[seelevelsrise]

Day 320 — Fiddler

Fiddler stingrays are found along the eastern and southern coasts of Australia. They favour shallow, sandy bays, rocky reefs, and seagrass beds and feed on shellfish, crabs, and worms, which they crush between their jaws.

Photo: Fiddler ray, Jawbone Marine Sanctuary

[inevitablefury-blog]

Made this cute eastern fiddler ray tattoo for Mandy’s first tattoo 🖤 Thank you for trusting me and for sitting so well! How cute are these little rays? They’re like water puppies 🥺 . . #charlifaure #charlifauretattoo #charlifury #charlifurytattoo @tattoo_power_north_canberra #dynamicblackink @dynamiccolor #fusionink @fusion_ink @silverbackink @fytcartridges #canberratattoo #tattoocanberra #inkjecta #inkjectax1 @inkjecta #blackandgrey #easternfiddlerray #fiddlerray #raytattoo #underwaterlife #waterpuppies #realismtattoo #realistictattoo (at Chris Cashmores Tattoo Power!) https://www.instagram.com/p/CCncCkPhz26/?igshid=1gfvnde6w32rg

[whats-a-clever-username]

Heyyy, lookie here. I decided to update my Zora OC since I saw the designs in Breath of the Wild. I still need to update his profile, but I can tell you he’s a sort of amalgamation of three different species of ray; Sharp Snout, Bat, and Eastern Fiddler.

I also plan for him to be apart of a non canon timeline and be the water sage, but I haven’t really done anything with that yet.

[rivertoriver1818]

The Indian Creek Delta Boys

The Indian Creek Delta Boys

Known for the many fine and obscure fiddle tunes learned from senior players in their own geographical area, the Indian Creek Delta Boys of Charleston, Illinois were an influential string band from the 1970s through the 1990s.

Garry Harrison began playing the fiddle at age 16. His older brother Steve already played the banjo by this time but was away with the service and had left his banjo at home, so Garry’s twin brother, Terry, began playing it. A close friend, John Bishop, joined the brothers, playing the guitar. This group eventually became known locally as the Indian Creek Delta Boys, in recognition of their long-time river camp at the confluence of Indian Creek and the Embarras (“am-braw”) river south of Charleston, a place where they were often to be found. By 1976, the group had evolved to consist of Garry Harrison, Lynn “Chirps” Smith, Dave Miller, and Dan Baird.

Garry’s first fiddle instruction was from his father, Cliff Harrison, who taught him some of the old-time hoedowns. Soon after, Cliff passed away, and Garry and a group of friends began visiting other senior fiddlers in the area, recording their music on tape in order to learn it. Among the band members who participated in making these recordings were John Bishop, Dave Miller, Lynn Smith, Steve, Terry, and Gaye Harrison, John Holliday, and Dan Baird.

A year or two after the group began recording the senior players of the area, they were approached by Eastern Illinois University in Charleston to take along a second tape recorder for the benefit of the university while continuing to document the traditional music of the area. This arrangement began in mid-1976, and after it ended in late 1977, the group continued to independently document the traditional music of downstate Illinois into the late 1980s. Beginning in 1977, EIU began hosting an annual arts festival called “Celebration,” and for a number of years the group was responsible for lining up traditional music performers for the event.

In 1975, they competed in the string band contest at Clarksville, Tennessee and placed among the finalists. A year or two later, they were hired to play the first of several appearances at the Indiana Fiddlers’ Gathering in Battleground, Indiana. Throughout the following decade or so, the group played for a few major festivals (Frontier Folklife Festival in St. Louis, University of Chicago Folk Festival, Clearwater Festival in New York), several smaller, closer-to-home festivals, and numerous small town fairs, old settlers gatherings, and other events of the sort.

In 1981, “in recognition of its singular contribution to establishing for Illinois its own place in American musical history,” the Indian Creek Delta Boys were “designated and proclaimed the ‘Official State of Illinois – Traditional Illinois Old-Time String Band'” by act of the State of Illinois 82nd General Assembly.

The FRC recording was made in 1984 at Bushton, Illinois by Ray Alden, during one of the epic cross-country trips he made recording performers at their homes. The personnel of the band included Garry Harrison (fiddle and vocals), Steve Harrison (banjo), Dave Danner (banjo and vocals), Gaye Harrison (mandolin), John Bishop (guitar and vocals) and John Holliday (guitar).

This entry was posted in Banjo, Fiddle, Guitar, Illinois, Old Time Music, String Bands on March 25, 2015. The Complete History of the Plank Road String Band and the Lexington, VA Music SceneRambling Reminisces of How I Came to Play Old-Time Music 

https://youtu.be/ilVhMUG9TCg