#wakepod

[wakestoriespod]

Long, long ago, in a time so distant that the oldest of us have lost its memory, there was a man, a great king who had a son. His son Elnai, was a gentle man. He spent his days in learning, music and craft and history, the statecraft of his father's rule.

When Elnai was of age to be a man, his father asked him how he would begin learning the duties of a king. The young man thought for many days on this, and finally returned to his father with an answer.

"I would see this kingdom in its whole, my father, not simply as it shows itself to a prince. I would walk its roads and meet its people without them knowing me." His voice was quiet and sure. The king nodded, pleased with his son's answer.

"Then you will do so, and you will learn what it is to be a man instead of a prince. Do you still have your old harp, the one you put aside a few years ago.?" When the prince nodded, his father continued. "Then go, my son, and take that harp with you. Clothe yourself as a humble harper, and you will know welcome anywhere within the kingdon."

Elnai smiled and bowed deeply to his father. "I will return to you, my lord, when I have seen what I need to see." He left the king's rooms and returned to his own, gathering together his harp and traveling packs. He went quickly to the marketplace and bought some clothing, well made and warm, but not as fine as his princely garb. By morning, he was ready, and with the harp and pack upon his back, he set off to see the kingdom.

Spring and summer passed quickly as the harper, calling himself Lennas, wandered the roads. Every town and village he passed called to him for news and songs and tales, and he passed nearly every evening inside an inn or tavern, surrounded by the people of his father's kingdom. When his voice was tired, he would ask one of the local storytellers to give him tales from the town, and by the end of the evening, he was one of them, a friend in the tavern.

Now it was the middle of autumn, and the wind had turned cold. Lennas found himself very far from his home city, and thinking of the coming winter. His wanderings took him to the manor house of a noble lord, where he asked humbly for a place for the winter. So distant was he from the castle that his news from there was still new, and his stories fresh. The lord welcomed him greatly, giving him a guest's place at table, and comfortable, warm rooms.

The winter began with harsh snow and wind as the harper entertained the lord, his lady, and their daughter. He wove story and tale and song each evening for them, and all their household, but soon enough it was only the daughter his thoughts were on when he sang. In his eyes, his harpstrings became her honey brown hair, the smooth wood of the instrument the smoothness of her cheek, and as his heart filled with love for her, his songs filled with magic.

Ilithe smiled on the harper, feeling the magic of his songs twine around her spirit. She spoke to her father about him, and the lord thought long and hard about the match his daughter and the harper might make. Then a message came from the king's palace that changed everything.

The harper hid while the messanger was within the manor, fearing anyone sent by the king might recognize the young prince even in disguise. He smiled, seated with his harp near the fire, making plans for when he would bring Ilithe home, to be married. His fingers drifted lovingly over the strings as he planned the day he would ask her, the day he would tell her his true name and nature, but still, he was silent on it when she entered the room. Playing harper was too comfortable, and there would be time enough later to be a prince.

There was not. Some few days after the messanger had returned to the palace, Ilithe came to him. Her face was drawn and pale as she faced the young harper and told him of her betrothal. "A great lord has asked my father for my hand, in marriage to his son." she said softly as the whisper of harpsong stilled. "It is a match none with sense would refuse.. and my parents are sensible people. It is.. a great honor." She tried to smile, but her voice was flat, her eyes filled with unshed tears. She looked for a long moment at the harper, and then sat on the stool next to him. "I would rather.."

He cut her words off with a shake of his head. "Let me sing for you, my lady, and ease the pain away. Very few of noble birth have the luxury of choosing their marriage, but.. you will find love in it. You could do naught else." His voice was hoarse as he began the singing, but soon grew warm and strong again. With his music, he stilled her twisting thoughts, and his own, and for an evening, there was peace in that small room. When the singing was done, she rose quietly, seeming calmer. He almost told her then, but any talk of marriage would have shattered the peace. "There will be time enough tomorrow." he said to himself, banking the fire and climbing into bed.

When morning came, Lennas rose and dressed quickly in his finest clothing, slipping on the signet ring he had left off for so long. He made his way quickly to the study the manor's lord spent most of his days in. Where usually there was peace, he found disarray. Lord Noral was questioning his servants urgently, and guards ran off quickly in every direction.

"My lord?" he asked quickly. Noral didn't even take the time to look at the harper before speaking.

"She's gone, Lennas. She left a letter for me, saying she wouldn't stay to marry some strange lord. Ilithe has run away."

The harper's breath caught. His heart stilled, thinking of Ilithe out alone in the wind and snow."

"If I'd only know how she'd react to being betrothed, I would never have accepted. Better to lose her to a humble harper than to the snow." Lord Noral's hands shook as he waited for word to return to him. He and the harper both paced the floor, and Lennas found himself drifting away, barely listening to Noral's words, until-

"She wouldn't even let me speak to her of Elnai. I'm told he's a gentle, good man."

The harper stopped his pacing and turned to face Noral completely. "It was Elnai who she was asked for, the prince?" When the lord nodded, he closed his eyes and drew a breath. "Bring her back, my lord. Bring her home and all will be well." He opened his eyes again, turning quickly away and going to his rooms. No music echoed in the hallway.

Days passed, and all of the guards returned from their search empty handed. Lord Noral went out to search himself, with the silent harper at his side. Together they combed the base of the winter touched mountains, one calling out her name, the other simply watching, trying as if his eyes could see through the stone. Long past where the others had given up, this pair searched together.

It was dusk when they saw her. Any darker and they would have missed the shadow against the snow. The harper, silent for days suddenly cried out and fell to his knees. He dug into the snow, freeing Ilithe's still form and lifting her up into his arms. Noral stood beside him, eyes shut against the wind. As Lennas cradled her against him, he began to sing again, a solemn, wordless cry sent out to the heavens themselves. Perhaps the heavens heard him, but Ilithe drew no breath.

Both men were silent as they returned with her body to the manor.

The harper sang at her funeral, song speaking grief that others had no way to voice. His voice was rough from the cold, choked with tears, but it drifted clearly over the snowy plains. When the singing was done, and the funeral pyre lit, only those closest heard his whispered words. "Is this what it means to be a man instead of a prince?"

The next day, Lennas the harper went to lord Noral's study once more. The mountain passes were clear, and spring was coming to the land. He stood silent before the nobleman for a moment before Noral looked up to see him. "What am I going to tell the king, and his son?" Noral asked. His face was further lined with grief, but as always, his mind was on duty.

"You need not worry my lord. I will speak to the king upon my return. It is the least I owe you." The harper's voice was quiet, tinged with an edge of bitterness Noral had never before heard it carry. He searched the young man with his eyes, shaking his head.

"What do you owe me?"

"The truth at least, for if she or you had only known it sooner, you would still have a daughter, and I a wife." Slowly, the harper drew the signet ring from his finger and placed it on the desk between them.

Noral drew the ring to him, turning it over in his hands. As recognition dawned in his eyes, so did anger. "You.. YOU are the high prince? You are the very man my daughter would die to keep from losing, and die to avoid?" His voice rose sharply. "Why did you not tell me?"

"It was a promise between myself and my father, though he had no way of knowing I would end up in this place. When Ilithe came to me, I knew not which lord she had been betrothed to. I thought.. I didn't know she would run. I thought I has time to speak." Elnai's voice was a husky whisper. "If I had known.."

"The games of princes and kings!" Noral roared, crossing the room to where the young prince stood. "Harper, be gone from my home at once. You will not pack, you will simply go from the door. If you live to see your father, tell him what this game has cost."

"My harp.." the prince began.

"Will die here, where you should. Were you any other man I would have your life for my daughter's. Instead, you will live, knowing what has been lost." Noral turned cold eyes to the harper turned prince's face for a moment more, then turned his back to him. "Go, before I call the guards."

Elnai took the ring from the desk and slipped it into a pocket. Harper he came, and harper he would go, though when he left the manor, he didn't rest or tarry, but walked until he could walk no more, then after a short rest, began again.

He reached his father's castle in a matter of weeks, worn to exhaustion from travel and cold. Soon enough, he told his father the story, and the fate of his betrothed, Ilithe. The king said nothing for a long time, simply nodding and watching his son. Finally, he rested his hand on Elnai's shoulder and sighed. "You have learned more of being a man than I ever wished. Remember her, my son, and love her for as long as you breathe. She will live in you."

The king died several years later, and his solemn son took the throne. In time he married, and his queen bore him children. All the tales of him spoke of a good king, thoughtful and caring, generous without being foolish, a king who had learned the ways of ruling well. They also spoke of the gentle king who now never sang, and rarely spoke unless he had to.

In time, age took its toll on him. His wife passed many years before him, and his son was long past old enough to take the throne. The ceremony that made his son king was brief, and quiet as ceremonies go. In the midst of the celebration, after a tender farewell, the harper Lennas again took to the roads.

Few travelled to this part of the land in winter. The manor house within the valley was all but cut off by the mountains around it. Bent with age and wind, Lennas made his way to the plains before the manor and stopped. Not far from where he stood was the outcropping of stone by which he'd found Ilithe. His steps were slow as he found the spot, then knealt on the packed snow.

Someone in the manor house, out on a winter hunt, heard the singing. The hunt was called over, several well wrapped men and their shivering dogs making their cautious way toward the source of the sound. They couldn't make out the words until they were very close... but several times, they heard the song repeated. When they finally found the old harper, he was still singing, but ice had frozen his eyes closed, and his words were slurring. The cold had long since stiffened his fingers.

"Who do you hear on the wind and who do you wait for on the ridge in the snow, in the cold of long and longer night

Your breath, a white puff in the sky Your tears, clear water frozen dry In the snow, as you watch the rising light.

I hear the whisper of my love. She calls my name. I wait to see her crossing over the snowy plain. I hear the echo of the only song our voices ever shared. I wait for her. She will melt the snow. I wait for her. She will melt the snow. I wait for her. She will melt the snow.

Come my love to your home again. Come my love and shed the ice and rain Let me sing to you beside the rising flame.

Your hands, untangling your hair. Drinking my words in with care. Let me sing to you of what our love became.

We wed in summertime, the flowers fell around us. We walked together, hand in hand under the trees. Our children played in falling leaves and we made angels in the snow. We grew old together, and you never left me. We grew old together, and you never left me. Grew old together, and you never left me.”

When the song was done this time, his voice fell still, and winter took him.

The hunters never forgot him, nor did their children, or their children's children. And if you find the manor house today, tucked away in its snowy valley, there will still be those who swear they can hear the old man, king and harper, singing his simple, final song into the wind.