The Peasant Bard

Chapter One

Chapter One

There is this thing he talks about, 'Music', I don't know what it is yet-but I know I need it in my life. He says it is like walking through the woods without fear of the wolves; that it is like swimming in the arms of the ocean or strolling through the midnight rain without getting sick. He says it opens your mind to a whole new world where everything is beautiful; that it tickles your skin like a lover's touch and that it pleases your body greater than any eastern spice. Though I doubt all that is true, it seems such an adventure to learn more about this thing. I fail to see yet, attributed obviously to my youth (I am but 17), how such a wonderful thing can be evil-but it is, and so I should cast out any such desire to find it and drink it up. Music is the root of all evil in man, and music shall summon the demons and the devils from all the hells of lore to bring death and destruction upon the land. But uncle talks quite fondly of the thing; and his eyes seem to twinkle when caught in the moment of reminiscence.

Tevik Blackwood

'Tevik my boy! Welcome.' uncle Lodric greeted me into his home with his great bear-like arms. Father was out again tonight, rather typically as he was the elder of Hogsmirth. Our village.

'Evening uncle, it's good to see you again.'

'I'm guessing you will be here for awhile.' He said, placing the kettle on the fire.

'Here to listen to another story of how the rabbits used to live in the trunks of trees?'

'Actually, I was wondering if you would care to share more on music with me. It really sparked my interest and I have been unable to think of anything else.'

He sighed. 'That, my boy, is the true evil of music.'

'Tevik I warned you about the fate of those seeking to learn about music-and of those trying to revive it. You play with death dear boy, and I am afraid you are too young to play with such totality.'

'I am not without my wits, uncle; I just struggle to understand why it is so evil when it seems so beautiful.'

'You speak of music as if it were a woman. And there is a striking similarity between the two, if you recall my tales of the sirens.' He winked.

It pained me to see Lodric keep such mirth about him. I knew he was lonely, that he carried great burdens alone. He was my mothers brother, they had been close he tells me- he had even told me of her gift in the art of music and singing. A talent that holds the devil's hand if found out now. She had died giving birth to me, and yet I see a greater pain of such a tragedy upon Lodric's shoulders. Far greater than mine or even my fathers.

I smirked rather awkwardly, not sure of what to say.

'Come here Tevik, we can let the pot boil a little longer. I have something to show you'.

I followed him into his room. It felt cosy and had a soft orange glow too it.

He reached into a little bag that he has ominously hidden under his bed, and pulled something out. It was like a long wooden stick, ivory in colour and polished thoroughly it seemed, because the texture shone fantastically in the orange glow of the room. There were odd little holes down the stick. The look in Lodric's eyes bore that magical twinkle Tevik had seen whenever his uncle spoke to him of music. A rush sizzled his blood, awoke the hairs on his body and his heart began a new beat as he wondered. What was this thing?

'This my dear boy.' Lodric paused and looked lovingly at the little thing. 'This is what they used to call a recorder.'

'It is a musical instrument-one that would see me hanging from the gallows within a breath's luxurious moment if caught with it, mind you. I made it myself. After all the musical instruments were destroyed in a great fire sprung to life by man over 20 years ago- I set to work on my own. Initially I was too afraid, but over time my heart began to wither with lust-the sin evoked in us all through music. If you believe what the people say.'