“Thomas the Rhymer” by Resha Caner
12/5/2006
[Illustration: “Fairyworld” © 2006 by D’Wayne Murphy.]
Bobby Burns is gone, and with him the fair tongue he spoke. I pray, therefore, the ancient Celts to forgive me as I interpret the Gaelic tongue in order to bring appreciation of it to a newer time. As a babe, my ears heard the words:
Ye maun ken of Thomas Rymour, of Ercildoun,
In Lauderdale. He had nae will to the wark
But was a gudsire wi’ pipes and song.
Those words remain behind, but I shall bring you the story.
Thomas the Rhymer, Lord Earlston, gave birth to prose before the likes of Chaucer had even worn a Christening cap. Thomas took much pride in his silver tongue, by which he oft wooed the fair maidens, but by which he mainly escaped the sweat of the plow.
It was a fine day when Thomas chose to lay on Huntly bank at the foot of the Eildon Hills. His mind wove a magical verse for use with the evening’s ale, but the thread was spoiled when down the bank rode a lady of great beauty. Thomas knew her for a queen. Her steed strode with majestic pride, carrying its burden gladly. Thirty silver bells and nine hanging from the mane played the magical songs of the wind. The lady’s saddle was of royal bone laid over in gold. Her attire gave homage to her beauty, not daring to shine greater. Yet, strangely, she had a bow in her hand and arrows in her belt - a huntress. Only a faerie queen could muster such strength yet remain so fair.
The faerie queen deigned to pass Thomas by, intent upon the trail her hounds followed. Thomas could not allow such a sight to escape him.
“My lady,” he called, rising from the bank.
Within moments the hounds surrounded him, guarding their lady from harm. She spurred the great steed towards the intruder of her hunt, and brought a dirk to bear on his throat.
No Comments » | 
Fantasy | 
Permalink
Posted by Editor