Gather round, you vagabonds,
Picking fruit and hopping freights
Anyone who's wondering,
Wondering why the winds have changed
Eurydice sat herself on the ground next to Orpheus, already entranced by the first couple lines of his song. It was sweet and soulful and began with an open invitation, not what she would expect in a song about the gods, but Orpheus seemed to defy all expectations, didn't he.
I'll sing a song of a love gone wrong,
Between a mighty King and Queen,
Gather round, and I'll sing a song
Of Hades and Persephone
She watched as his fingers plucked another string on the lyre. He looked so focused, so raptly in tune with his music, it was almost as if he was lost within the world of his song. Perhaps his focus was what drew her in, it was contagious almost, she knew the story of Hades and Persephone by heart, yet she was on the edge of her seat. She couldn't wait to hear his version.
Queen of flowers, queen of fields,
Queen of the green and the growing earth
Lady Persephone, half of the year,
Was bound to stay down in the Underworld.
Orpheus's voice was intoxicating, so beautiful and unique, and she'd never heard anything like it in her life. It was soulful and magical and very high, not what she'd expected, but again, he defied all expectations. When he sang to her, she felt like she was under some sort of spell, like his voice had put her under a trance. That, and his beautiful poetry, the lyrics he had written, the spectacular imagery he had created to tell this story that everyone knew. How could he just do that? She didn't understand it. She wished she had that sort of talent. It was almost like Orpheus's music was a gift given to him by the gods.
On the other half, she could walk in the sun
And the sun in turn burned twice as bright
Which is where the seasons come from,
And with them the cycle,
Of the seed and the sickle,
And the lives of the people,
And the birds in their flight,
Eurydice's heart was racing, leaping out of her chest. Had Orpheus moved her this much? How had a song done this? Maybe he was right, maybe he did have power. If not to change the world, and make it permanently beautiful, then at least to make it not seem as bad for a little while. He had the power to inspire, to make you see how the world could be. The power to make you believe. Eurydice sat in rapt attention, as Orpheus sang his last verse.
Singing la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la
Oh singing, la la la la la la la
La la la la la la
He strummed a final chord and looked at her, awaiting a reaction from the songbird. She looked at him in shock, still trying to process how he managed to do that. In all of three minutes, he had managed to sweep the cynical girl who had given up on love straight off her feet.
"That's good," she smiled, clearly quite impressed with his performance.
"It's not finished..." he shook his head, looking down at the ground again.
"I didn't say that it was finished. I said that it was good," she laughed, smiling at the ground before turning back to Orpheus. "And if it's that good now, I can't even imagine what it will sound like when it's finished," she gave him a teasing wink. "You'll have to play it for me then."
"Maybe I will," he smirked. "If you're still hangin' around these parts."
"When you sing your song, will it change the world?" She smirked.
"I'd like to believe that it will."
Eurydice stood up from the ground, reaching a hand out to pull Orpheus up as well. "Lover," she smirked, teasing him with nicknames once again. "Lover, if you can, tell me this,"
"If we are to be wed,"
"When," Orpheus interrupted.
Eurydice rolled her eyes. "Very well. When we're wed, Orpheus, who'll buy the wedding bands? I doubt either of us can afford them, times being what they are."
Orpheus looked around, before taking Eurydice's hand and dragging her to a nearby river. "When I sing my song, the rivers will sing with me. And they'll break their banks for me, and give me all their gold, all I could want and all I could need to fashion a wedding ring for you, for your pretty hand." He smiled at her, tossing a stone into the river for good measure.
"Oh, and I suppose the trees are gonna lay the wedding table?" Eurydice laughed, rolling her eyes. She wished herself naive enough to believe that the rivers would give them the wedding bands, but practical as she was, she knew the world. The rivers and trees wouldn't do anything for them, no matter what Orpheus said. But she wanted to hear his answer, out of amusement.
"Precisely!" Orpheus beamed. "For when I sing my song, the trees will sing with me, and bend their branches down and lay their fruit at my feet, all for our wedding table." He took Eurydice's hand and dragged her underneath a tree that stood by the river bank, picking a leaf off a branch, and placing it in her hair next to the flower.
Eurydice ducked herself out from under the tree. "Very well, Orpheus," she sighed. "But lover, who will make the wedding bed? If we are to be married, of course." If his answer to this question was as ridiculous as his answers to the last two, she was just about to lose her mind.
Orpheus strummed a chord on his lyre, and a beautiful white bird flew down, landing straight on the poet's hand. "When I sing my song, all the birds will sing with me. Like this, you see?" He played another chord, which summoned another white bird, this one landing right on the lyre itself. "They'll all come flying around me, and lay their feathers at my feet," The bird on his hand flew onto Eurydice's shoulder, and she couldn't help but giggle. How did he summon birds just by strumming a single chord? The more she learned about Orpheus, the more in awe of him she became. She took a step towards him, and the bird on her shoulder flew away. "We'll lie down in eiderdown, my love. How's that for a wedding bed?" With a swift motion, the bird on his lyre flew away too, leaving behind a long, white feather, which fell in Eurydice's hair.
"Alright, if you say so, poet," she chuckled. As ridiculous as this sounded, she wondered if maybe he was right. His music did seem to have magical powers, and after all the magic he'd performed for her today, she wouldn't write it off as completely impossible if he could move nature to provide for them with his music. But she was still cynical as always. "The birds and rivers and trees will provide for our wedding."
She looked down at the ground, picking flowers, pretty yellow ones, arranging them before looking back up at him as she held them in her hand like a bridal boquet, with the red carnation that had been in her hair as the centerpiece. She walked over to Orpheus, placing a flower in the pocket of his jacket like a groom's boutanier, and picked up her skirt, twirling around for him.
"Well, don't you look lovely, my bride," Orpheus smiled, getting down on one knee as she held out her hand to him, and he pressed a kiss into it. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a spare piece of string, which he tied around Eurydice's finger. "Your ring."
Eurydice examined the ring of thread and laughed. "Well, I was expecting gold, but it'll do."
"It's a temporary ring, 'til I can get you the gold one, love. Consider it a promise ring of sorts.
"Oh alright then," she teased, pulling out her own piece of string and tying it around his finger.
"I believe you need one too."
Orpheus smiled and picked himself up off the ground, twirling Eurydice around. Eurydice looked down at the thread ring again, before her eyes flitted back to Orpheus.
"Yes," she said.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, I'll come home with you, Orpheus."
"Really?" Orpheus almost squealed. "I mean," he covered up his previous statement, not wanting to seem overexcited (even though he was.) "Are you sure?"
Eurydice nodded, twirling her skirt again. "I'm sure, Orpheus. Take me home."
"Alright then, shall we?" Orpheus said, offerring her his arm.
She nodded and linked her arm in his, her skirt fluttering in the breeze as the two walked into the night. "We shall," she smiled, looking up at him, and he smiled at her in return.
And so it seemed the little songbird would indeed be coming home with the penniless poet that night. But she didn't plan to stay for long. Maybe a night or two. After that, she'd pack up her bags and go back home. Wherever home was. Any way the wind blows, perhaps.