The Story of Rhiannon

1. "She rules her life like a bird in flight and who will be her lover?"

The Bright World had never been brighter, and yet it hid in plain sight in the midst of the woods. Rhiannon felt the stones and the grass against her bare feet and sighed. The fine pieces of golden hair were confused with the rays of sun as she dwelled across the thick forest, as if floating somewhere between the ground and the firmament. Her free black silk robe flew slowly behind her, the wind lifting it slightly higher than halfway down her strong thighs. Beside her flew three small birds, their wings flapping up and down with the silk that wrapped her, against the wind, sometimes brushing against leaves about to fall from the trees. One of them was an ethereal gold, like her own private sun reaching out to light up her liquid brown eyes. The second was an emerald green that camouflaged amidst the trees. The third and biggest one was a white winged dove and it flew almost straight above her head, faster than all the others, as if opening ground for Rhiannon to soar through. She reached a clearing in the woods.

In her small hands she had a gîtar, that made the most beautiful music The Bright World had ever seen. She sat down at a rock and began to play it, her high melodious voice blending with the birds singing and the strumming from the gîtar. She was the queen of The Bright World, and she looked like it, her titanic chestnut eyes staring down into the nothingness; full, rounded lips surrounded by perfect alabaster skin that, without a dent, covered her small lanky body. Her golden hair was like a waterfall, falling heavily onto her shoulders, her forehead and all the way down to her hips. With the wind hitting it, it seemed to dance to the music. As she sang, the three birds flew off into the trees and sat in branches, watching and listening. Her music was magic, it had the power to drown the sorrows and eliminate the troubles of anyone who heard it. But not very many mortals have had the pleasure to listen to the song of Rhiannon, white witch, queen of The Bright World, living in the snow covered hills, where the landslide would bring down anyone who tried to sully the purity of the queen.

As she sang her magic song, she began to hear footsteps. Alarmed, her voice became higher, but nothing could stop Rhiannon from singing when she was alone in the woods. The footsteps became louder and louder, and she looked around her, trying to make out where they were coming from. Suddenly, behind her, he appeared. He was tall and slim and walked with the grace of a prince. His hair was almost black, short and striking. His eyes were of the deepest light blue, and his tiny smile embraced her. She lifted the corners of her lovely lips and smiled herself. Examining him, she saw he was dressed, like her, all in black, but on his waist, he had attached what looked like his only weapon: a large, heavy, ivory tusk, hanging from his belt like a sword.

He was so taken by her beauty that he thought the mere sight of her had rendered him insane. But in fact it had been her voice, her magic song that heightened his senses and swept him off his feet. As she continued her song, he approached her, the lyrics all of a sudden seeming familiar. They screamed with loneliness, with wonder, with passion. They yearned for another voice to harmonize with, they cried for another soul to merge into that beautiful music. He began to sing with her, their voices blending like they were made to meet each other in the thick forest air. It resonated so beautifully that Rhiannon began to feel the tears stinging her eyes. He walked toward her and lifted the gîtar from her hands, but they both remained singing. They wrapped their arms around each other's waists and stared into each other's eyes in a trance. As the song finished, they could no longer breathe anything but each other's air.

"I'm Harwest." He said, his melodious voice no different from what she had heard in song.

"I'm Rhiannon." Somehow, he already knew. "You have a beautiful voice."

"That was a beautiful song." He said. Their eyes were still glued together as he leaned in toward her so naturally as if it was merely his nature. She leaned in towards him too, stopping an inch away from his face. She took a moment to let the forest air wrap itself around them and cast its spell. He finally canceled the inch of distance between them and kissed her lips softly. As their lips touched, Rhiannon sighed. She had finally found what she has been singing about. The love, the harmony, the silver springs flashing in blue and green. After the kiss she placed both her fine hands on his face, and he tilted his head to kiss her palms. She looked deep into him; her black pointed nails gently scratching his neck. She began to walk away slowly, backwards, her birds suddenly waking up and flying behind her.