by Miranda Hawkins
"Bye Mom, back later," he shouted, flying past the kitchen and out into the open air, Pellinore, their bull terrier, chasing eagerly after.
His mom merely sighed, shaking her head softly and wishing her twelve year old could find children his own age to play with. The death of her husband three years ago had nearly destroyed them both. Now her son immersed himself entirely within the legends his father had been so fond of telling and refused to associate with anyone other than that witless dog.
The sun seemed to welcome Zac as he moved past the door and out into it's warm embrace. "Come, King Pellinore," he shouted, whirling madly past the garage and grabbing up his trusty stick, which was as good as any sword. "We must continue our search for the Questing Beast!" The dog let loose an agreeable volley of barks and soon the two were lost in the hunt.
Hours passed, or maybe it was only minutes, before the boy and his companion found their way to the stream which gently separated his mom's land from the rest of the forest. Zac stood silently gazing into the water as his dad's voice slowly came to him, drifting through the years.
‘Once, long ago, there was an old king who had no male heirs to inherit the kingdom, simply a young daughter whose only redeeming virtue, in his mind, was her remarkable way with a harp. Not being a very intelligent king, he invited wizards from all over the realm to come and present a solution to his problem. Of these, whichever introduced the best answer would receive his weight in gold. So it was that a sorcerer, with designs of his own, came bearing an enchanted harp. He claimed that all the king need do was have his daughter play the harp, and it would bring him an true heir. However, it was not mentioned how long this would take, and the king, not being very bright, never thought to ask. And thus, the instant the princess' fingers touched the strings, she became agelessly locked within the harp's enchantment, unable to be free until one came who could play as well as she. The years passed quickly, soon the king was dead, having given up all hope and the sorcerer was free to take over the realm. He banished the harp and it's prisoner to a far away land, never to be seen again. Legend says that this is the very land the princess was banished to and on magical days, down by the brook she can be heard playing forlornly on her harp.'
Zac was pulled from his memories by Pellinore's sharp excited yips. "Patience, m'lord," the boy replied, kneeling to scratch his friend's ears. "Even knights of our caliber must rest once-in-awhile."
It was then that he heard it, bubbly and light, nearly indistinguishable from the music of the brook, but he was sure it hadn't been there before. Softly he stood and crept slowly to the water's edge. The sun played back and forth through the wind-swept trees, dappling his skin with light and finally catching on something golden. She sat there, tears streaming gently down her cheeks, eyes raw and hair wild, yet she was unarguably the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.
"So it's true," he thought. "It's really true."
Zac made no sound, but she seemed to know he was there. For a split second their eyes met, then Pellinore erupted into vicious barks, startling her from her music. The boy lowered his eyes to comfort his friend and when he raised them again she was gone. The harp remained for a few moments more before it to disappeared, fading slowly from view.
|
|
