Faire Tales: Of Unicorns and Roses
As told in Laughter over the Westward Horizon, something special in shared mischief am I honored and humbled to be a part of, and many happy surprises have been borne from Toledo to College Park and back again and back yet again, since the times long before when silmaril and I first became Warders to the Lady of Toledo. And so it was, yet again, and so 'tis the happy tale to be told here, another happy tale of the weekend at the Faire, a tale of unicorns and roses...
- When the first breath of winter
Through the flowers is icing
And you look to the north
And a pale moon is rising
And it seems like all is dying
And would leave the world to mourn
In the distance hear the laughter
Of the Last Unicorn...
- -"The Last Unicorn", America
She was snow-white, with a thick, wispy white mane and tail. Violet eyes and golden hooves and a spiral golden horn and pink ribbon. She was almost three feet from horn tip to bushy tail. She was beautiful and impossibly snuggly, and when we saw her, missysedai and I decided that it was time to be mischievious. Again. :-)
silmaril adores unicorns, and in her place in College Park are not a few pieces that bear testament to that. A great poster on which a unicorn rides rampant; and pendants, and small stuffed unicorns, and this and that. And so it was completely inevitable that when Missy and I discovered that lovely unicorn in a storefront that there was going to be mischief. Inevitable, I say. ;-)
And so Missy signed the ear-tag when she was in town for the Arts Fair, and so our four-hooved friend was gently packed into my luggage, the horn poking out of the corner; and so with much amusement did the security people at the airport checkpoints and my brother and friends in New Jersey note the friendly mythical beast coming along for the ride. And finally, after the happy wedding day in New Jersey and a long train ride down to DC and happy greetings again of old friends in Union Station, after _constantine made his spectacular presentation of Sting to Missy's Lady of the Sword, a phone call was made to Missy way back east in Toledo...
"Close your eyes", we said, and so Silmaril did. She heard a luggage case being unzipped. "Turn around," I said with a smile.
She reached out with her hand. Touched the soft flank. Traced her hand along the top, her grin growing larger and larger, until it reached over the mane and gripped gently up along the horn. And then a fierce hug.
- On the phone with Missy. Some moments, they say, are priceless. :-)
Postscript: a year later, one of my favorite pictures of silmaril, here. :-)
Two merry, happy days we spent after that at the Maryland Rennisance Festival, with music and laughter and friends old and new, and those tales I hope to tell another day, time permitting. And amidst the performers and the revelers, the craftsmen and the crowds, between MacBeth in 20 minutes and the Beer Song and the marvelous Fool Named "O", between jousts and stage fights and Gypsophilia and The Pyrates Royal and The Rogues and the pipers of Wolgemut who led the armies of ceara's Kingdom of Calontir onto the field at Pennsic 30, between all of that, through the various shops and merchant stands did we go to find something for our Sedai. And find something we did. :-)
From one leatherworks near White Stag Grove, I believe, did we find a finely worked rose of leather, its suede petals a deep rich purple, with leather green leaves and even a small bud, just down the stem. And from another, up Mary's Dale Way, did Silmaril pick out a leather ornament for Missy's long locks of hair, with an ornate Celtic knot worked onto it's surface. And so both gifts were obtained, and Silmaril and I did sign our names to the back of the ornament, and back torwards Detroit did I pack them, and the very next day after I came home, in front of the Cancer Center, did I greet Missy and her family when they came to town to celebrate Missy's birthday...
Of Gratzi I first wrote before in A Night at the Old Orpheum, the wonderful little Italian bistro in downtown Ann Arbor with the fine food and charming surroundings. And it being Missy's birthday, she and her husband and young Ernie came up to Ann Arbor, and Jesse, fellow SCAdian whom Silmaril first introduced me to, and Aaron, Missy's fellow Google researcher, enjoyed a wonderful dinner in the corner booth by the street. And then afterwards, with full bellies and happy warm glows, did we stop by my apartment, where on bended knee did I present our Lady Sedai with Silmaril and my little tokens of friendship from Revel Grove half a continent away. :-)
- When the last moon is cast
Over the last star of morning
And the future is past
Without even a last desparate warning
Then look into the sky where
Through the cloudes a path is formed
Look and see her how she sparkles
It's the Last Unicorn...