From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus)
Subject: Re: Song of Sixpence - Part Six
Organization: Data I/O Corporation
Date: Sun, 4 Oct 1992 21:11:49 GMT

In article <1992Oct2.194006.11977@cs.mcgill.ca> braley@binkley.cs.mcgill.ca (The Didi-Sprite) writes:
>
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>
>Castellan manages to find an opening in the crowd of people offering hugs
>and congratulations.  "We haven't talked much, but I just wanted to say
>I've always been very impressed with your contributions to the Place.  Your
>posts always seem to strike a chord somewhere.  Keep writing, and may peace
>dwell within you."  He offers Liralen a hug, and unwraps the bundle he was
>carrying to reveal a plate of hot Yankee cornbread. 

Liralen happily takes the hug and says softly, "Thanks for well wishes...
and..." she sighs a touch, but with a smile, "I keep saying that I'm just
lucky with the writing."  She glances over in P'relan's direction and then
back at one who has taken a most prestigious Spanish name.  "I think that
just about anyone could probably write the way that I write, I just stick
my neck out a lot.  But thanks for the appreciation, I can *always* use
more of that."

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>
>Susan rummages around in her mammoth bag and pulls out a card
>and a bag of Hershey's Kisses which she hands to Liralen and then gives
>her a hug...

Liralen blushes at the gift.  But manages to recover well enough to give
her love a long warm hug.

>Happy Birthday!

Thank you.

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>
>   "Nathan, this is Liralen."

    "Greetings, Nathan."  Liralen smiles at the cloaked man.  "I've heard a
lot about you."
   
>   Going up to the lady (who is surrounded by _neat_ stuff), Nathan
>goes down on one knee, and gently kisses her hand.

    Liralen looks at Nathan and thinks about getting down on one knee as
well, but shelves the idea for some other time.  
   
>   "Lady, though I did not know you until just now, it is an honor to be
>here and share in the celebration of your birth.  If you will permit me,
>I have a small gift, I would like to bestow upon you."  At a nod from
>Liralen, Nathan takes from his pouch a length of material.
>   
>   "Lady, this belt was woven by my hand. The threads of the warp are out
>of dreams and memories, the weft the light of the sun, stars and moon.
>Please accept this gift with my well wishes."

    Liralen blinks at the cloth that he holds in his hands, and something
moves behind her dark eyes.  Very carefully, she takes the cloth between
her two hands, and studies the threads of it.  Then, perhaps startling him
a touch, she takes his hands and studies them as well.  She sighs...
wanting to ask him what he'd used to spin the threads and what the loom had
been made of and if the reeds had been real... but she stays silent.

    And then touches to life a harp case that has, for all this time, lain
on her back.  She opens the case and pulls out the blue harp, and lays it
on her lap.  Then she pulls and tugs and unfastens the plain, hemp belt
that has held the case on her back for almost two years, and with some
reverence, threads the belt through the case holes.  As she works, she
says, softly, "I knew that dreams were strong enough to stand the beating
of the heddle, and that light could weave a web.  But my dreams usually
end up clothed in something more like silk, wool, and linen; and the light
is trapped as the energy that holds those fibers together.  This..." she is
speechless for a moment, "this is nothing my dreams could put together, but
it should hold together well to handle some of my dreams that never see
reality."

    She hefts her harp back onto her shoulder, and the new strap holds
beautifully.  "Thank you."

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>
>Abner strides over to Liralen, and smiles.  "I have a pair of gifts for you.
>The first reflects me ...  I'm working with buckyballs, and I've been told you
>play soccer, so here is a giant buckeyball ...  care to play a game later?

She studies the ball and then smiles, "Sure.  Looks like fun!"

>The second gift is a different form of carbon ... a diamond ... it has one
>facet for each of yours; each is a different color.  Facets will appear and
>disappear when your's do - and like you, the diamond is beautiful no matter
>how many facets it has ..."

Her eyes go wide at the beautiful piece of carbon.  She accepts it
carefully and studies the shining facets, soft rose, vivid neon, black,
silver, honey gold... and at his explanation she smiles even as her eyes
start to shine with the beginning of tears.

>Abner gives Liralen a hug, and asks her not to leave again.

Liralen hugs Abner back and whispers her answer in his ear.

>"Oh, and BTW, did I mention that my family has some blueberry hedges?  Here,
>have some fresh blueberries ..."
>
>"Oops, that makes three gifts!  Am I allowed to do that?"
>
>*grin*

She grins and pops a blueberry in her mouth and sighs as she savors the
sweet juiciness.  She laughs at his oops, and says, "Friend, I think that
here, you're allowed any gift given from the heart..."  And Liralen hugs
Abner again.

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>
>	Approaching the gathering throng in the meadow, he edges around
>until he manages to find enough space to execute a polite little bow
>and perhaps even a bijou flourish-ette as he produces...
>
>	A pie.
>
>	Not any kind of pie - a very special pie. It's a BLACKberry
>pie. (Appropriate, huh?)  A fresh blackberry pie made with fresh
>blackberries (as opposed to a fresh cottage pie made with fresh
>cottages or a fresh shepherds pie made with fresh shepherds). In fact,
>the very kind of blackberry pie that his grandmother used to make. It's
>come straight from the oven, fresh, piping hot and with a beautiful
>golden shortcrust that melts when you eat it, while torrents of hot
>blackberry juice inevitably find their way onto your shirt and promise
>washday havoc to come.

Oh WOW.  :)
I *especially* like that last touch.  It's dead on.  :)

>	Presenting this particular culinary delight, Martyr speaks...
>
>	"I heard that there might be a little party here for someone
>and I was asked to bring something seasonal. I'm afraid that this is
>about the best I can manage in the seasonal department. When I was a
>kid, I would sometimes go picking blackberries with my grandmother (on
>my mother's side that is). She made the most wonderful blackberry pie.
>I couldn't think of anything to bring until I remembered seeing some
>blackberry bushes the other day with nice, juicy, ripe blackberries on
>them. So I figured I might as well re-create one of those pies..."
>
>	"Jeez, I'm rambling. I don't know what's wrong with me lately,
>must be lack of sleep and excess of writing - about 21,000 words in the
>last fourteen days."

	"Chuckle... I don't know if you're rambling that badly.  My husband
and I have blackberry brambles all over the property, and, about once a
year, we go out and battle the brambles for their berries.  And you're
*absolutely* right about just how amazing those pies can be."

>	"What I'm trying to say is...
>
>			HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIRALEN!!!"

	"Thank you."

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>
>After helping out as various patrons get organized and the festivities
>get underway, Albert goes over to Liralen and offers a birthday hug.
>"A very Happy Birthday, Liralen!  Nice to have you in The Place again."

"MMmmmmmm..." she says as she hugs Albert back.  "Thanks... it's very nice
to be back."

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>A little while later, Raven swoops onto the festive field to join in the
>merriment.  Behind her there comes a picnic table on wheels that is
>pulled by a goat on which is perched the female tomte.  The goat stops,
>the tomte unhiches it, and then they go crashing back into the woods.  On
>the table are barbequed salmon, a large mushroom pie,  and some blueberry
>perogies. 

Yow, blueberry perogies!!  And, yeah, I'm having salmon today!!  It's
Salmon days in Issaquah, and the kings are running.  THEY are absolutely
insane to watch leap.  The fishery actually has nets over the ladders to
insure that the fish don't leap OUT of the laddars.

>"Now i know this going to sound like a card, i hope that this upcoming
>year is filled with joy, and that Seattle isn't too wet this winter."

Liralen laughs, "Seattle not wet??  Raven, all the green and emerald that
Seattle *is* is because of the lovely wet.  The rainy season being from
April 1st to May 30th isn't that far off, and it's what keeps this place as
alive and rich as it is.  Last winter was so warm and mild the snow pack
was so small that we had a terrible drought this summer."  She quirks a
grin, "Sorry to go on and on about it, but some of our white trillium 
even died, and they're still endangered."  She sighs and then smiles. "I
loved your salmon feast, though, and would like to thank you for your well
wishes and song.  It didn't sound like 'a card' at ALL."

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li@inigo.Data-IO.com
Newsgroups: alt.callahans