Post by Lightningstar on Aug 4, 2008 18:33:01 GMT -5
Title: The Dream Weaver
Author: Lightningstar
Pairing: None
Summary: Well, where did you think dreams come from?
Editor: None
Cover: None
Author's Notes: Just something nice and random for you. ^^ I spelled 'faerie' like that on purpose, because that's how you spell it over in England. FYI I don't live in England, I just know that. x3
This is the prayer of the Dream-Weaver. Out of all of old England's faerie tales, the tale of the Dream-Weaver was the most popular among the children. Tiny villages nestled in the lush green hills of the countryside would have gatherings every half-moon dedicated to storytelling and music, and vendors would come from around England to perform and sell things there.
When night fell, a bonfire was lit, and the story-telling ensued. The elders of the village would gather the children around them and recite stories from memory. On one such evening, a rather large group of children sat around a very wise elder, who asked them, "what would you like to hear first?"
"The Tale of the Dream-Weaver!" the children chorused.
The elder chuckled heartily. "But you all know that story," he told them, although he knew that they would persist.
All the children simply nodded. "Tell us again," a little girl announced, "so that we may be able to memorize it someday, just like you!"
"Then we shall begin," the elder said. "The story starts out in the same place every time- a lush forest deep in the heartlands of England. Within that forest is a faerie glen, with circles of mushrooms and tiny houses in the trees that faeries like to live in. Only the most trusted of humans could see the glen, and even so, very few were allowed in.
"Once there was a human named William, and he was one of the King's squires. He was always very kind to the woods and the animals that lived in it; he even had a mouse as a pet. The faeries trusted him so much that they let him into their glen. Squire William was delighted, and he visited the glen everyday, listening to the little faeries play their instruments and sing songs, even though he couldn't understand the words.
"But, as usual with faeries, there was a price to pay for being let into the glen. As Squire William continued to listen to the faerie's music, they put a spell on him. One time, he came and listened to the faerie's music, and after he left he could go no farther than the edge of the woods before returning again. Each time after he left, he could travel less and less from the glen, until finally he was trapped within it.
"The Squire begged for his freedom, and the faeries granted him his wish, on one condition- that he let them shrink him down to their size and become the Dream-Weaver for little children. He could no longer be a squire or live his normal life, but he could travel outside the glen at night to deliver dreams to all the little lads and lasses around England.
"As much as he wanted to get back to his normal life, William knew that he could not refuse the faeries their request. So, in turn, he accepted. After drinking a potion made of nectar and heather flowers soaked in faerie magic, he shrunk to the size of a faerie and was given wings and magical powers so that he could visit all the lads and lasses before the night ended. And then he was given the most prized objects of all- an enchanted needle and the Dream-Thread.
"For generations after, the Dream-Weaver sat down every night and weaved the dreams; good dreams for good lads and lasses, and nightmares for bad lads and lasses. When word of his existence reached the villages, they created a prayer for the children to say before they went to bed in hopes of receiving a good dream from the Dream-Weaver; we still recite it to this day." The elder concluded his story.
The children, who had leaned forward in anticipation, sat back again. Smiles were spread across their faces, illuminated by the flickering firelight. "That was a wonderful story," a little boy piped up.
Smiling just as brightly as the children, the village elder winked. "Where else would dreams come from?" He got up slowly, joints stiff with age. "Now sweet dreams, lads and lasses," he told them. "And don't forget to say your prayers."
Author: Lightningstar
Pairing: None
Summary: Well, where did you think dreams come from?
Editor: None
Cover: None
Author's Notes: Just something nice and random for you. ^^ I spelled 'faerie' like that on purpose, because that's how you spell it over in England. FYI I don't live in England, I just know that. x3
Dream Weaver, Dream Weaver,
Take my dreams and weave them proper
Every night, without a stop
Weave them well so I may sleep
Take a needle, and Dream-Thread too
In your little shop you work
Weaving my dreams
In, out, in, out
Until I so shall rise in the morn.
Take my dreams and weave them proper
Every night, without a stop
Weave them well so I may sleep
Take a needle, and Dream-Thread too
In your little shop you work
Weaving my dreams
In, out, in, out
Until I so shall rise in the morn.
This is the prayer of the Dream-Weaver. Out of all of old England's faerie tales, the tale of the Dream-Weaver was the most popular among the children. Tiny villages nestled in the lush green hills of the countryside would have gatherings every half-moon dedicated to storytelling and music, and vendors would come from around England to perform and sell things there.
When night fell, a bonfire was lit, and the story-telling ensued. The elders of the village would gather the children around them and recite stories from memory. On one such evening, a rather large group of children sat around a very wise elder, who asked them, "what would you like to hear first?"
"The Tale of the Dream-Weaver!" the children chorused.
The elder chuckled heartily. "But you all know that story," he told them, although he knew that they would persist.
All the children simply nodded. "Tell us again," a little girl announced, "so that we may be able to memorize it someday, just like you!"
"Then we shall begin," the elder said. "The story starts out in the same place every time- a lush forest deep in the heartlands of England. Within that forest is a faerie glen, with circles of mushrooms and tiny houses in the trees that faeries like to live in. Only the most trusted of humans could see the glen, and even so, very few were allowed in.
"Once there was a human named William, and he was one of the King's squires. He was always very kind to the woods and the animals that lived in it; he even had a mouse as a pet. The faeries trusted him so much that they let him into their glen. Squire William was delighted, and he visited the glen everyday, listening to the little faeries play their instruments and sing songs, even though he couldn't understand the words.
"But, as usual with faeries, there was a price to pay for being let into the glen. As Squire William continued to listen to the faerie's music, they put a spell on him. One time, he came and listened to the faerie's music, and after he left he could go no farther than the edge of the woods before returning again. Each time after he left, he could travel less and less from the glen, until finally he was trapped within it.
"The Squire begged for his freedom, and the faeries granted him his wish, on one condition- that he let them shrink him down to their size and become the Dream-Weaver for little children. He could no longer be a squire or live his normal life, but he could travel outside the glen at night to deliver dreams to all the little lads and lasses around England.
"As much as he wanted to get back to his normal life, William knew that he could not refuse the faeries their request. So, in turn, he accepted. After drinking a potion made of nectar and heather flowers soaked in faerie magic, he shrunk to the size of a faerie and was given wings and magical powers so that he could visit all the lads and lasses before the night ended. And then he was given the most prized objects of all- an enchanted needle and the Dream-Thread.
"For generations after, the Dream-Weaver sat down every night and weaved the dreams; good dreams for good lads and lasses, and nightmares for bad lads and lasses. When word of his existence reached the villages, they created a prayer for the children to say before they went to bed in hopes of receiving a good dream from the Dream-Weaver; we still recite it to this day." The elder concluded his story.
The children, who had leaned forward in anticipation, sat back again. Smiles were spread across their faces, illuminated by the flickering firelight. "That was a wonderful story," a little boy piped up.
Smiling just as brightly as the children, the village elder winked. "Where else would dreams come from?" He got up slowly, joints stiff with age. "Now sweet dreams, lads and lasses," he told them. "And don't forget to say your prayers."
