Topic:Great Hall of Kildare, Ancient Seat of the Righs of Leinster
Topic Editor: Mikele Baoisgne
Topic Description: Ancient mists fold over ancient lands,
silvered moisture hangs in air,
a greened and lush landscape awaits
hushed.....

Ancient mosses cling to ancient stones,
blissfully unaware,
approaches the hammer and the saw
unleashed.....

Ancient trees felled in ancient meadows,
shaped and hewn by the men
that would build a seat of splendour,
here.....

This is the site of the Great Hall of Kildare, where will stand for all time the seat of the Righs of Leinster. May the bards sing their praises here forever, may the warriors claim their portions here for eternity, may the Righ's of Leinster rule in fairness and benevolence this kingdom.

This is, among other things, going to be a Role Play thread to carry such actions as RP participants would like to engage in in the vicinity of Kildare Castle. The thread editor requests posts that are as historically accurate as possible, and a minimalist use of 'faerie magic'. Use of powers traditionally ascribed to the Druids is fine if not in excess. Hope that is politely stated enough.


Message: Concerned and confused, I look around the great
Author: - Tiziana Fabius
Date: Oct 12, 1999
hall and mingle hesitantly with the assembled people in this place. Why I
was brought here I am not certain, I see Moibhe across the room and
quickly make my way over to her, relieved to see a familiar face. I
whisper urgently in her ear

Moibhe, please pass on my respects to the Righ, since I am a stranger
here, and not altogether at ease. I wish to make it known to all the good
people of Tara that, though flattered and honoured to find myself one of
the contenders for the position of Bard of Leinster, I fear my resignation
from the competition some time ago was not noted. Indeed, I only entered
the Speed Competition for fun.....my good wishes to you, to Eldrich and
the other finalists...there shall be a worthy Bard of Leinster for
certain. But now I must leave, quickly and quietly while no-one pays
mind..

..I slip out unnoticed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: Just missing Tiz's exit,
Author: Here in spirit... - Moira Baoisgne
Date: Oct 13, 1999
I speak to the wind, not knowing whether she will hear or not.

Contestant or no, your entries were excellent, my friend. Was quite a
treat for the eyes and heart.

Looking at those gathered. So, do we know who won the title yet? I am
certainly looking forward to the news!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: Standing in the shadows
Author: - Fleury CuChulainn, Patron
Date: Oct 14, 1999
From my solitary spot, along the wall of the great hall, I have heard tell
many things about the battle. I am relieved our host was unscathed and has
returned to his people. Although druids are essentially clanless, I still
wonder after my cousins fighting along side Samix. I have been a
CuChulainn longer than I've been a druid and cannot quell my concern for
my Conn Finn and his brother and all those they lead... Nevertheless, I am
a druid and therefore all life is sacred. From the tales that trickle in,
many lost their lives, on both sides, and for all of them I mourn.
Although enemy to Lord Mikele, I also mourn the loss of Samix but I keep
hope as I've also heard of Ninian's successes...

Glancing around the room I am aware that I know few people here, not
having frequented Baoisgne lands often. I do recognise moibhe, and I spyed
my cousin Turlough around here somewhere but he seemed to have disappeared
again. Deciding to leave my place in the shadows and await the
announcement with the others, I approach Moira and smile warmly. "Well met
Moira. I could be wrong but I don't think an announcement has been made.
Righ Mikele has only just returned and is first attending the wounded,
from what I've heard so far... Although I was lost in a fog for a while so
I might not have heard the latest. While we wait, would you like to join
me in a mug of mead?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: Entering the Great Hall
Author: - Eldrich Niall
Date: Oct 14, 1999
Eldrich leans heavily on his staff, pausing in the doorway to admire the
majestic surroundings. Searching the huge room for familiar faces, he
finally spies Moira and Fleury standing in the shadows. The Righ is
apparently not yet present and the Hall is droning with undertones of
muffled anticipation. The old druid ambles over to greet the two women,
hoping to hear news of the bards' contest.

He bows politely and extends his hand. "Dia dhuit, friends! Fleury, I am
happy to see you here. I've been wanting to tell you how much I enjoyed
your poems!" Eldrich glances around the Great Hall once again, still
searching. "Has Tiziana arrived yet? She is sure to claim the prize,
despite her withdrawing from the contest!"

A young girl hands Eldrich a mug of ale and he lifts it in salute to
Fleury.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: Eldrich and Fleury!
Author: getting spirited - Moira Baoisgne
Date: Oct 14, 1999
Yes, let us drink to the talent all about us! 'Tis an honor to be among
your company, to be sure! Shall we gather the musicians in advance before
the announcement? I think music should suit the occasion well, don't you?

Eldrich, I saw Tiz leave just as I arrived. 'Tis a shame that she could
not stay for the ceremony, whenever that might be.

Intentionally, I neglect to mention or pay heed to the reports of the
battle of late. The Eisteddfod is to be a time of laughter, verse and
song...not of war. And a determined Moira is better than ten soldiers
anyday. (If anyone doubted it, they might refer to my brother.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: Happily
Author: - Fleury CuChulainn, Patron
Date: Oct 15, 1999 11:36
taking a sip of ale I smile at Eldrich and Moira. The mood was lightening
considerably and a festive air was growing in its place. This occassion
was indeed one of gaiety. "Aye Moira, I think that music would be perfect
right about now. If I knew how to play something well, I would join in,
but I don't want to torture all the poor unsuspecting people here in the
hall.

Eldrich, it is wonderful to finally meet you. I thank you for your kind
words, I too really enjoyed your poems, I especially liked your satire of
the Wizard. I wonder if any of the other bards will show up for the
announcement?"

I take another sip of ale and begin to sway slightly to the mellifluous
notes wafting gently through the air as the musicians begin to tune and
warm up their instruments. There certainly is a comfortable atmosphere in
here, friends, good music and ale... one could want for little else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: Well, if ye seek torture...
Author: - Moira Baoisgne
Date: Oct 15, 1999
then all ye'd have to do is get me drunk enough to sing! The Sidhe
themselves would rise from their hills, thinkin' the world was comin' to
an end!

I elbow Fleury merrily while winking at Eldrich. But of course I'd never
put friends through such a thing...enemies perhaps, but never friends!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: The Arrival of Cathal Cumhaill
Author: Rigfennidh - Cathal Cumhaill, Patron
Date: Oct 15, 1999
is announced by the Hosteller of the Great Hall. Cathal enters on his arm
a lovely lass known to many as Ardanna of the Morna. He is followed by
his poets and warriors of his fian. Several in the hall comment and
whisper among themselves at the sight of this tall blonde headed warrior
wearing a white leine with red trim and the magnificent sash of red and
black that marks his rank as a Rigfennidh of the fianna. His warriors also
look splended, each wearing leine and a red sash. All of the warriors
have their swords peaceknotted in a braid of red, black and white, the
colors of the Morrigan, the queen of battle
"Please" he speaks. "Do not stop celebrating because of me. Let us honor
this Righ who has vanquished his foes and has returned home victorious!"
The crowd cheers and the celebration resumes.........

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: Amidst the scent of.....
Author: Laurel, Messenger for - Mikele Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Oct 15, 1999
stone dust and fresh hewn wood, hallmarks of the new great hall rising in
Kildare, Laurel strode into the center of the assembled guests. Already
there was an air of expectation amongst the assembled and more gathering as
the minutes flew by. While the hall was designed for a full thousand
there were already more than half a hundred in attendance anticipating the
return of the Righ as much as they were awaiting the naming fo the Ollamh
of Leinster.

Laurel cleared his throat, throwing a look at the musicians enough to
silence a pack of baying hounds. "The Righ has sent me ahead of him to
announce that he will attend the festivities shortly after his arrival
from Tullach Mhor. He attends the wounded and bids you all enjoy yourselves
in this wondrous newly constructed hall."
Laurel paused while the buzz of conversation floated around the airy upper
reaches of the hall. "In the meantime he expects to attend to a
celebration that stamps a precedent for fun and frivolity in Leinster that
will stand a thousand years so he has assured that the mead barrels will
flow free and that he will personally recite on his arrival."

"Good luck to you all and stand for the Righ shortly." Laurel departed
the hall with all the penache with which he had entered, leaving a growing
multitude of feast goers as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: I sway gently to the music,
Author: - Raonaid Baoisgne
Date: Oct 16, 1999
keeping well to the back of the crowds by the door. Despite my mission, I
cannot resist the pull of the melody. It is a happy tune. Like some spring
brook in sunlight, it makes me smile. One of the young men catches my eye
and grins back, thinking my smile meant for him. Quickly, I drop my gaze
and still my swaying. I return my attention to the huge oaken doors,
opened wide. As each guest enters the Great Hall, I scour my memory trying
to find any face that has the slightest familiarity to me. Everyone seems
a stranger. I can hear from the greetings shouted and the hugs exchanged
who is who, but even the names are foreign to me. I move closer to the
door, touching the stout planks and wondering how many great deeds and men
these doors will witness in their time. The Hall of Leinster is rising
around me, built and building, like this kingdom itself. And I am here, at
the beginning.

That is the place to start…beginnings…too confusing in the middle and
makes no sense at all to begin at the end…

I shake the voice from my head. I understand little of it, though these
unbidden thoughts seem my constant companions. Like my mother before me, I
am cursed with them. They speak in riddles, maddening me like flies.
Worse, hindsight always proves them true. It is like having the key to a
great treasure chest and no clue at all as to where the chest may lie or
what it contains.

I look about the gathering guests. Though the Hall is huge, there are
fires aplenty and we are all warm enough. Sunlight streams through an open
arch and I watch dust motes dancing there. My gaze becomes dreamy and the
sounds of the music and people fade away. My eyes drift towards the high
ceiling, and I am mildly surprised to see cobwebs glitter in the
sunlight…like lace curtains. I frown. The hall is far too new to have
acquired cobwebs. As I frown, my vision clears. There are no cobwebs, and
the smell of new wood and fresh cut stone assure me that there has not
been enough time for them to accumulate. What, then, did I see?

Just then, the Righ’s messenger arrives to announce his coming. I snap to
attention immediately and pull back further into the shadows. I will
watch, but have no desire to be noticed. I gather my hood closer over my
hair to hide its color. Even in this room filled with people and sound,
experience has taught me to shield my hair if I wish to be unseen. The
homespun fabrics of my clothes reflect the colors of the earth, browns and
greens, so I know the eye will skip over them. I am as invisible as I can
make myself, yet still, I find a shadowed corner. There, I will observe
and learn what I can.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: So many people
Author: - Moira Baoisgne
Date: Oct 16, 1999
are arriving by the moment, leading up to the grand announcement. I can't
help but smile at the energy present within the Hall, as everyone fills
themselves with high spirits and, ahem, hard spirits. The thought crosses
my mind that many won't really remember the ceremony after the affair is
over. Ah, but they shall remember their aching heads and know that they
had a marvelous eve!

In a shadowed corner, I sense movement and see one of my distant cousins
lurking, trying hard it seems not to be noticed. I flash her a welcoming
smile, but do not alert the others of her presence. She will make herself
known if and when she wishes. I do hope she will, as the company around
is not to be missed.

Turning back to Eldrich and Fluery, I grin widely.

So, did either of you have a favorite work in the competition? I must say
that the, um, one might call it an entry, by Angharrad of the MacRoths
proved to be, rather interesting, wouldn't you say?

Trying to stiffle a giggle... I'm not sure how appreciative our dear Righ
was of her effort!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Message: Riding hard out of the rain .......
Author: Righ of Leinster - Mikele Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Oct 16, 1999
surrounding Tullach Mhor Mikele's tired and worn warriors were only too
happy to find late afternoon sunlight bathing the lands of Leinster at
they approached Kildare. The gloom of battle and the too recent memories
of the friends that would not be coming home seemed, at least for the
moment, too fade in the onslaught of the streaming sunlight.

Approaching the rising walls of Kildare the clatter of the army met the
waves and cheers of the already multidudinous locals. The masons and the
carpenters came out in force to cheer the returning troops while many a
young lass was swept up in the arms of a battle weary warrior eager to
forget the grim scenes of Tullach Mhor in the sweet and pliant flesh of a
willing celebrant of victory.

Mikele wheeled his warhorse towards the stables, noting the swell of
visiting dignitaries that already threatened to overflow the modest guest
accomodations that had so far been built. Dismounting and handing the
reins to a stable hand Mikele felt for the first time his weariness and
wondered at the vision that he might make to his guests, covered as he was
in mud and the vestiges of blood from the hard fought battle. Still he
sent word that he would join the guests after he had had the opportunity
to refresh himself, directing his warriors to do the same and join the
festivities as soon as they were able.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: Mikele, having made sure.......
Author: Righ of Leinster - Mikele Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Oct 16, 1999
that he had greeted as many as had arrived, made his way with his personal
guard to the great oaken doors that lead into the Great Hall. There would
be the bards inside, having competed strenuously for the honour that was
to be bestowed tonight. And there would be the assorted collection of
Nemed, the intelligentsia of Leinster as well as Conn Finns and ranking
dignitaries from all over Eire, even some from Ulster whose forces even
now retreated from Leinster. Best that tonight would be about poetry and
not about battle, although at times Mikele felt the two were inexplicably
linked. That was why he felt so strongly about having an Ollamh that could
capture the life of Leinster...all of the life of Leisnter including the
deaths.

As he entered the hall his guards fanned out unobtrusively throughout the
hall but never far while he greeted familiar faces and thought about what
he might say on this most auspicious occasion. Settling on a few words he
saw his sister Moira in the distance doing her level best to entertain.
She would forever be the most suited in the family for that. It was a
skill of kings. Mikele wondered when and to what end the prospects of an
alliance might be cemented by a joining between Moira and a valuable
political ally.....whatever might happen he knew that Moira would be
instrumental in making it so. He smiled at her across the room and moved
to greet her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: Aches and pains
Author: - Isabella Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Oct 16, 1999
Long does the road seem from Tulach Mor to Cill Dara. It's the reverse of
what she'd ridden with pech and the arch druidess in what now seems a
lifetime ago. This night, not as calm as that one. Relentless rain dogs
their journey. Almost if the gods wish them miserable. Relent they do upon
entry into Cull an tSudaire. A short stop only to rest the horses and
check on the wounded. Better it's felt to move on to journey's end in Cill
Dara. Crossing the River Barrow turns into a nightmare. The passing of
many horses along with the weather has made the ford a sea of mud. Only
with great difficulty and much time is it accomplished. The lights from
Cill Dara are a welcome sight. Wagons thunder through the streets to where
healers have set up an area. First concern, for Isabella are her charges
which she directs be taken inside, despite Ailill's protest. Caring for
their immediate needs, Isabella wonders what's in store for her here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: Following eyes of others,
Author: - Moira Baoisgne
Date: Oct 16, 1999
I turn and see my brother, the victory playing across his face as he
smiles my direction. All worries melt from me when I see that smile and
forgetting any inhibitions, I race across the hall, throwing my arms
around my big brother with childlike abandon. He flinches slightly, but
accepts the hug graciously. Remembering that he might be wounded, I back
away slightly with a questioning look, but he shakes his head and I simply
nod knowingly. I hold out my little finger which he quickly takes with his
own.

So, Righ Sir, what other titles might you have picked up now? Any you can
say in mixed company?

I wink merrily. 'Tis good to see him safe here where he should be, at
home.

You've got to be starved. Just look at you! You've lost weight on that
battlefield. What, a Righ can't afford food or the time to eat it? By
the gods, stop me, I'm turning into Mother! Seriously, perhaps you'll
take some time for yourself for a while now that this is all over?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: "Aye Moira......
Author: Righ of Leinster - Mikele Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Oct 17, 1999
I will." No matter how well he knew his sister she always managed to find
a way to surprise him. Her decorum in the room might not be what was
expected of a member of the Righ's family but it warmed him nnetheless.
He spoke briefly of the battle, close enough that only she could hear.
"It was hard fought and as unsatisfying as any battle I have been in but
lets speak of that later." Raising his voice and smiling broadly so that
others could see and follow his mood, "Tonight let us feast and drink
meade in the celebration of our new found Ollamh. I have the name upon my
lips but there is much I would say and do before I lay the many coloured
robe across their shoulders."

"For now, where is my drinking cup. I feel like the very juice has been
squeezed from my body and needs replenishment." A rousing cheer met this
observation and a dozen glasses were proffered. Taking one from the
nearest hand Mikele pulled a long draught and raised his flagon to the
newly constructed to roof. "To the new Ollamh of Leinster...may their
words always flow like the meade in this hall tonight!"

Mikele began to stroll about the hall meeting various guests, the panorama
of just a few hours ago settled to the back of his mind where
contemplation would no doubt bring new revelation on those events.
Already several of his captains had refreshed themselves and were joining
the celebration but Mikele could not as yet see Urien, and supposed all
those that were able would join when time permitted. Nearing the kitchens
he directed the cooks manning the spits of various roasting meats to send
the champions portion of each cut to the many wounded he knew were
arriving even then...save for one portion that would be the Ollamh of
Leinster's symbolic sign of victory.

Approaching the splendidly dressed man whom he knew the Eisteddfodd and
from reputation to be Cathal Cumhaill, of the Fianna, he could not help
but admire the style of the man. "Cathal, I am honoured by your presence.
You have a honeyed tongue it seems befitting a leader of the Fianna.
Your poems have wetted the appetites of more than one young Leinster lass
I think...and a few not so young." Mikele laughed as the big man first
looked perplexed and then broke into a broad smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Message: Hearing my brother's words,
Author: - Moira Baoisgne
Date: Oct 17, 1999
I can't help but frown a bit. Battles...on the field or in the heart
shouldn't be a part of this night. As he turns to the Cumhaill man, I
nearly speak again, but bite my tongue. He'll not find out tonight...not
tonight. Instead I make a grand attempt to plaster the same smile upon my
lips I'd had before.

I'd bought myself enough time to relax for a few moments. Everyone I
loved was safe, with one possible exception. But no, I wouldn't allow
myself to think of such things. Tonight is a night of celebrating the
lyrics of life...and death...and the Great Cycle.

Following my brother's lead, I push my own inner thoughts back and begin
to work through the crowd, addressing each by name, after all, the nosiest
Baoisgne knows everyone, or knows of them anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: You speak the truth my friend.
Author: Rigfennidh - Cathal Cumhaill, Patron
Date: Oct 17, 1999
Cathal says with a large voracious grin.
"Indeed, many more a lass will fall before me if I can help it!'
the group laughs at Cathal's comment and then on a slightly more serious
note, Cathal speaks:
"I bring greetings to the Righ from our Rigfennidhfianna, Fionn
MacCumhaill. He regrets that he is not able to attend your celebration,
but says in his absence I speak for the fianna of Leinster in that you
will always have our spears at your service."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: gazes about the rising hall,
Author: na hAmhra'nai' - Graidhne Cumhaill
Date: Oct 17, 1999
her mossy green eyes brightening with wonder. A few strands of shockingly
orange hair tumble carelessly across her pale forehead, the rest flowing in
a fiery turbulence, unbound, across her shoulders and down her back.
She is a small woman with a wildness in her eyes, and despite the freshly
dyed saffron of her leine, she seems almost a forest fox clad in womens'
clothing. She tried to tell Cathal that she had not yet earned such
generous patronage, but he insisted in clothing his new poet in finery, if
only for the honour of his house. Still, the brilliant blue of her new
tartan airisod is somewhat concealed beneath an old battered cloak of many
colours.

At first, she tries to follow her patron closely, intimidated by the
bustle and crowd, but she pauses, gazing just a moment over-long at a
group of musicians tuning instruments of many shapes and sizes, and upon
looking up, finds him gone.

Graidhne's eyes grow very wide, and she turns several times trying
unsuccessfully to locate him, then draws a deep breath and edges a bit
closer to the musicians, listening shyly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: "Aye Cathal it is good ......
Author: Righ of Leinster - Mikele Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Oct 17, 1999
to know the spears of the Fianna are pointed outwards at the enemies of
Eire and not inwards at her own. It was not always thus." Mikele
wondered silently where the fianna stood on the subject of the crane bag
that the late Righ of Ulster had given his life in pursuit of. "Know you
that the fianna are always welcome in Leinster and may take of her bounty
as she deigns fit." Mikele clapped the scarred warrior on the back before
moving along to meet the several others of the finalists for the title of
Ollamh of Leinster.

He first met with Fleury CuChulain and the nearby Turlough CuChulain,
thanking them for their participation and wishing them great luck in the
contest. Spotting the ever shy Eldrich Niall in the background he stepped
near and clasped his forearm in greeting, fairly gushing at the emotive
force of the elder poet. The others so far were not in evidence and
Mikele proceeded to the head table, raising his flagon and gaining the
attention of the assembled guests.

"Tonight we celebrate. Not prowess on the field of battle but prowess in
the mind. The nimble of thought will one day rule this world and we are
graced with the finest of them in this hall." Mikele paused as rounds of
cheers and applause swept over the people in the hall. "I was thinking
today of this occasion and the meaning that these people bring to our
lives. To start the festivities I humbly offer this missive for your
edification." Mikele took a hearty swallow of meade and cleared his
thoat.

"I call this 'The Ollamh'.....

© MCB 1999

The rocks cannot speak
but stories they do have,
flights of far flung stone
stream worn, river tossed
old moss backed sentinels
witness to eternity passing.
They all have tales to tell.

The trees cannot speak
but stories they do have,
they sigh them on the wind
and in the layering fall of leaves.
And to those that would but listen
with mind and heart and hands
they tell them what they've seen.

The stag cannot speak
but stories it does have,
pounded in staccato rhythm
of hoof and heart across the fen
Written in the widened eye
and gentle flare of nostril
seeking scent upon the wind.

The boar cannot speak
but stories he does have,
twisted tusk, nock-ed tooth,
what glory might he rightly claim
what great warrior felled to his rush
he would, by some firelight's flame,
tell us surely, if he but could.

The land cannot speak
but stories it does have.
Sea and shore, vale and dun
have witnessed all, like time itself,
the march of men as nothing
across the face of all of that,
distilled into a moment…and gone.

The heart cannot speak
but stories it does have,
of lives lived well and lost
and love that cracked and broke
it's fragile strength a hundred times
with every turn of fate against it.
These tales are writ in tracks of tears.

A people cannot speak
but stories they do have.
Countless joys, like perfect rain,
in droplets falling to the ground.
But left to lay they seep away.
So drained, the cup of memory
leaves remembrance cold and gray.

Who then speaks for all the world?
Who tells the stories that need telling?
From whence comes wisdom, where spills joy
upon a land weary of pain and tired of suff'ring?
What crucible holds our chronicles, bears out the truth
of our existence here on this island lost in the mist?
What power imbues simple words with meaning?

An Ollamh so speaks
and stories they can tell.
Of rocks and trees and stag and boar
land and heart and people by the score,
words, the known tools of that trade.
So from act, thought grows and thence to word,
And simple words to memory, hence our history made.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: A hush falls across the room
Author: - Fleury CuChulainn, Patron
Date: Oct 18, 1999
as the Righ speaks and lingers long after he is finished. His eloquence
is indeed beyond most and I muse to myself that the Righ himself would be
most qualified as Ollamh. I glance over at Eldrich and note that he is
just as impressed as I, and I also notice Moira, standing behind her
brother, beaming with pride.

As revellers finally find their voice once more, I exhale, turn to Eldrich
and laugh slightly. "I must say, he certainly would be a hard act to
follow."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: As Fleury laughs nervously
Author: - Eldrich Niall, Patron
Date: Oct 18, 1999
Eldrich nods in agreement. The stream of beautiful words that flowed from
the mouth of the Righ has left everyone murmuring in wonderment. Eldrich
turns his head away from Fleury, pretending to survey the crowd. He hides
a tear that is rolling slowly down his cheek into his beard, and he
notices more than a few others are dabbing their eyes. Cups are raised all
over the hall in tribute to the Righ and the servants are hard pressed to
keep up with the shouts for more mead or ale.

As a young girl replenishes his and Fleury's cups, Eldrich lifts his to
Fleury. "Here's good luck to you, poet!" he grins. Fleury's delighted
laughter rings like tiny bells, sounding silvery and sweet over the noise
in the great hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: *Ailill shifts uncomfortably.
Author: - Ailill Baoisgne
Date: Oct 18, 1999
The inactivity caused by his wound has begun to weigh on him. He feels
restless and thoughts of Glendalough constantly intrude. There's so much
to do and here he is resting. Ailill thinks about his brother and sister.
Both seem quiet. Isabella had told him about Lachlann and the happenings
in Glendalough before his arrival. Ailill had seen the last moments
between the Righ of Ulster and the warrior woman Aifa. He longs to talk
to Tiernon but his brother has so far refused to speak about what happen.
After Isabella turns over her duties as she was instructed by the Righ of
Leinster, she paced recklessly nearby.

Lass, yer not doing either of us any good by staying here. I can see yer
need to talk to the Righ. Be off with ye. I'll be fine. The steward is
in good hands. Ye need yer own time. Come see me later.

Ailill smiles as he sees Isabella's face light up. She hugs him, checks
on Gerald and Lachlann before leaving.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Message: A brother's love
Author: - Isabella Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Oct 18, 1999
Moved by Ailill's words, Isabella enters the Great Hall to find it filled
with people. Flashing back to Yule, she remembers it was much like this
when she first met Mikele. A lot's happened, they aren't the same as then.
Thinking Mikele's treated her kindly of late and yet, there's a
difference. Possibly his thoughts lay elsewhere. Looking around she spots
him in the distance. Inwardly smiling, she thinks how handsome he looks,
how much the king. In her heart, she'll always think of him as the prince
she met at Dragon's Tor. Moving through the crowd, Isabella takes as a
direct a path as she can to Mikele.

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Message: Returning Eldrich's toast,
Author: - Fleury CuChulainn, Patron
Date: Oct 19, 1999
I curtsey with more grace than usual then raise my mug and smile. "And to
you m'lord, your words flow beautifully and should be heard." I take a
deep sip of my ale and look up to see a faint blush rise behind his beard.
"With the sudden arrival of the Righ, we never did answer Moira's
question. Did you have a favourite of the entries? I must admit Cian's
poem The Honoured One was one of my favourites, but they were all so
good."

As I await Eldrich's answer, I scan the room, taking in all the people in
attendance. Everyone seems to be having a wonderful time and many have
turned out in their finest clothes. I feel slightly out of place in my
druid's cloak but it is my finest of dark forest green with the knotwork
embroidery as trim. I dismiss my appearance quickly, as that has never
been my greatest concern. Happy to be amongst such eloquent bards, let
alone the members of the Baoisgne family and their royal courts, I let the
music fill me once more and turn my attention back to Eldrich.

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Message: As the Great Hall fills
Author: - Eldrich Niall, Patron
Date: Oct 19, 1999
with people, music and life, Eldrich watches the Righ move through the
crowd. The hero's light plays around him, glowing like a thousand candles.
Eldrich has seen this light before, usually lingering with warriors
recently returned from victorious battles. He ponders the source and
meaning of it, wondering if it emanates from without or from within.

Fleury's question draws him back to earth. "My favorite?" he echoes,
stroking his forked beard thoughtfully. "Anything by Moibhe of Baoisgne,
but especially the one called 'Beyond the Edge of the Sea'- that one was
exquisite! And Tiziana's 'Cold Call Before Dawn' was another favorite. Oh,
then there was Turlough's satire, which had me rolling on the floor..."

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Message: The silence that followed.....
Author: Righ of Leinster - Mikele Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Oct 19, 1999
in the brief moments after the recitation was eerily discordant with the
Mikele's ringing voice. The hairs on his own neck were raised as the echo
came back to him from the darkness of the upper reaches, beyond the
strength of torchlight to penetrate the distant gloom. Slowly the hall
erupted into cheers and Mikele managed a faint smile, content that he had
done honour to those here assembled and looking forward to the evening
even more now that it had been sent on its proper course.

Stepping from the podium he found a proffered flagon of meade and toasted
the giver with one hearty pull. Already it worked its magic, obviously
Golden Flagon meade if he did not miss his mark, and his core warmed to
the touch of its liquid fire. Looking about for Urien and wondering where
moibhe had gotten too preoccupied his thoughts as he continued to greet
the various attendees. Whispering a word to a porter he was about to
asked after Isabella and her charge Gerald when he noticed her making her
way through the crowd towards him, her glowing face enough to ensure that
at least there was no bad news about Gerald. He smiled, glad in the
knowledge that they were safe under his roof, where little could harm them
any more.

OOC - I plan to let the evening build to some climax and then anounce the
winner, unless there is some overwhelming need to do otherwise. Is that
alright with everyone? All poets did such a wonderful job I would love to
see them take a bow here before we close the affair. And I mean all poets
not just the seven finalists.

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Message: Wonderful noise.
Author: - Isabella Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Oct 19, 1999
Smiling at Mikele's voice, her face lights up as he sees her. Such a smile
shows a happiness in his face she hasn't seen for a long time. Feeling shy
as she approaches, the look in his eyes quiets her unease.

My prince, good it is to see you hale and whole. I've done as you've
asked. Gerald is turned over to the care of your best healer. His wounds
heal nicely and his inner strength will see him through. At your side's
his rightful place and I hope he's there soon. My brother, Ailill, is also
on the mend after so horrible a wound. Glad I am his will pulled him back
from near death. He's needed in Glendalough, taking the place once held by
our father.

Lowering her voice to a whisper, Isabella speaks of why she came.

It's with great need I must speak with you. Of happenings you know naught
of. When you've the time. My tale isn't long but I'd not take you from
your guests until you're ready. Oh but Mikele,

Pausing with thoughts that sadden her mind Isabella continues.

there's a tale you might hear of me which has no truth in it. Rather the
words come from my own lips than another's. Remember the rock I gave you
at Yule? I've need of your wisdom and strength of spirit.

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Message: looks up at the sound of Cathal's voice,
Author: na hAmhra'nai' - Graidhne Cumhaill
Date: Oct 20, 1999
her haunted eyes brightening at his approach, her cheeks blushing
girlishly at his words.
"Thank you, Tiarna~ I will."

She is deeply regretful that her time in the wildnerness has left her so
unaware of the politics a Bard should know well. Looking up in Mikele's
direction, she touches Cathal very lightly on the elbow, nearly
whispering, "His words are rich, and so well spoken..."

She blushes once more, adding even more softly, "who is he?"

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