Time to Remember (book)

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A Time To Remember                                                             
                                                                               
A True Account of the New Temple's Ceremony of Mourning                        
and Remembrance of Those Who Had Gone Before                                   
                                                                               
By Daerlynn Soulmyste                                                          
                                                                               
Introduction                                                                   
                                                                               
I write this today, so that the deeds, words and                               
memories of those that fought for us so bravely in                             
both the Gorbesh War and the War with Sorrow are not                           
forgotten.  Since, for this ceremony, I was                                    
specifically asked to remember those that fought the                           
Gorbesh, this work is dedicated to Wren, and to all                            
of the Defenders of the Lute.                                                  
                                                                               
This is a true account of the actual Mourning and                              
Remembrance Ceremony at the dedication celebrations                            
of the new Temple in the Crossing.  As such, it is                             
partly poetry, partly song, and partly actual words                            
of the participants themselves.           

Part 1 - Gathering                                                             
                                                                               
     We are gathered together today to mourn.                                  
     But not only to mourn, but to remember.                                   
     To mourn, and to remember, the former Temple upon this site.              
     To mourn, and to remember, those who gave of themselves in past wars.     
     To mourn, and to remember, those people that have touched us.             
                                                                               
     Those people that, if even for one brief moment,                          
     have added their thread to the Tapestry of our Lives.                     
     To mourn, and to remember.... and to Honor.                               
                                                                               
For those of you who may not know, the old Temple                              
fell and was razed during the Gorbesh's final assault                          
on the Crossing.                                                               
                                                                               
                                                                               
     The Gorbesh had come, seeking Peri'el's Lute,                             
     the Chalice, and a Bardess.                                               
     Especially a Bardess.                                                     
     A Bardess named Wren.   

I was asked here to present a work, a portion of                               
which was to mourn the old Temple and to honor those                           
that have fallen in our past wars.                                             
                                                                               
Sometimes a Bard can honor with her own words, adding                          
lofty eloquence and artistic license to events in the                          
past.  Other times, a Bard will do better to step aside, and                   
let the past speak for itself.                                                 
                                                                               
I have chosen to do the latter. What you will hear in                          
this first part will be the words of the                                       
participants, the heroes if you will, echoing through                          
the years.                                                                     
                                                                               
                                                                               
Part 2 - The Beginning                                                         
                                                                               
Imagine, if you will, the scene.                                               
                                                                               
     A city surrounded by the enemy                                            
     Besieged, harried                                                         
     War horns blare continuously.                                             
                                                                               
     Heroes guard a Lute deep inside the sewers    
     Dark,tense                                                                
     Water dripping continuously.                                              
                                                                               
     And a Bardess, in hiding.                                                 
     The city besieged because of you...                                       
     and yet you don't know why.                                               
     Nightmares and visions inhabit your sleep.                                
     Citizens counsel turning you over                                         
     to the enemy.                                                             
                                                                               
Can you imagine the horrible loneliness?  And yet...                           
she sings this song..  Only hours before the end.                              
(Song by the Bardess Wren)                                                     
                                                                               
     Sorrow Spring, will the rain never cease                                  
     Red Winter puddles before weak weary feet                                 
     We hold to our song and courage increase                                  
     Lest hope depart with our body's defeat.                                  
                                                                               
     Does the loss of a feather doom the fall of a bird?                       
     Does the loss of our lives mean a tacit downfall?                         
     Do the cries of the fallen go ever unheard?                               
     My brethren and sisters, let us lift up our call!   

     My Lady, the music grows great in our hearts                              
     Our hold to our lives still stronger this day                             
     Let the lute sing with us who sought but to start                         
     And seek each moment to learn how to play...                              
                                                                               
     To play the song of Life on the strings of thy power                      
     A music that comes from your gift and bless'd song                        
     A song we hear grows stronger this hour                                   
     A chorus of One, our faith is still ... strong.                           
                                                                               
And as Wren said in those final hours, I now say to you.... Sweet peace follow 
you.                                                                           
                                                                               
                                                                               
Part 3 - Besieged                                                              
                                                                               
And now, in their own words.. Beckah, Dreamheart,                              
Dredded, SanYves, Solmeron.. let us watch the fall of                          
a city and remember the brave men and women who                                
fought for us in this war.. and in all wars.                                   
                                                                               
                                                                               
     "The horns had been sounding ... a message is delivered to the city.      
     Hand over Wren, or we attack in 30 minutes."      

     "Horns now sound outside.                                                 
     It is about five minutes until the General's 30 minutes will be up.       
     We pray for more miracles."                                               
                                                                               
And then.. at the appointed time...                                            
                                                                               
     "The Temple has blown up!"                                                
                                                                               
     "The center of town is burning.                                           
     The living and dead alike are being thrown over the city walls."          
                                                                               
     "Oh, sweet Hodierna, a pile of dead beyond counting..                     
     Crossing is lost..                                                        
     about Wren and the Lute.... I know nothing.                               
                                                                               
     "They are butchering everyone."                                           
                                                                               
And.. what of the Lute watch?.. those defending Peri'el's Lute?                
Let us turn to Dreamheart.. in the Lute Room.. as Crossing burns..             
                                                                               
     "As the Gorbesh declared the Crossing theirs...                           
     They also came to where we guarded the Lute."    

     "One by one, Bards first, we were drug out."                              
                                                                               
     "Only a few remain here,...                                               
     there is no way to know whom the Gorbesh will drag next,"                 
                                                                               
     "There is nothing that anyone can do about it                             
     if they come for you."                                                    
                                                                               
     "I am close to tears and frustrated.                                      
     I wish I had better news."                                                
                                                                               
     "We have failed."                                                         
                                                                               
                                                                               
Part 4 - Crossing Falls                                                        
                                                                               
And though the Lute at that time was saved by a                                
miracle of Faenella, later to be stolen.. Wren was                             
not so fortunate..                                                             
                                                                               
     "We stood guard over Wren as she slept.                                   
     She woke briefly, sang us her song,                                       
     She wished she could attend Sunnie's wedding,                             
     and went back to her troubled sleep."     

     "When the Gorbesh arrived,                                                
     it was just like the Guard at the Lute watch                              
     One by one we were dragged away..."                                       
                                                                               
                                                                               
     "No one saw what became of Wren's little sleeping body in the bed."       
                                                                               
And then, later...                                                             
                                                                               
     "Sallyanne snuck into the Crossing and reached Wren...                    
     ...just as she died... "                                                  
                                                                               
And thus, the Crossing fell.                                                   
                                                                               
Let us now observe a moment of silence to all of                               
those who fought for her in honor, for those                                   
defenders of Crossing, of the Lute.. and for Wren...                           
And let us not forget the valiant men and women of                             
this last war, the War against Sorrow.  Let us                                 
remember the Dwarves of Stone Clan, the defenders of                           
Leth Deriel, of Riverhaven.. all of those who truly                            
gave their last full measure.      

Part 5 - The Ash and the Willow                                                
                                                                               
This song is dedicated to all of those that we have                            
known, that have gone on before us.  That made our                             
realms what they are today.                                                    
                                                                               
To those that contributed their threads to the                                 
tapestry of our life and yet.. are no longer with us.                          
                                                                               
To them I give, The Ash and The Willow.                                        
                                                                               
                                                                               
     The ash and the willow, the maple and oak                                 
     stand guard over green silent mound                                       
     All is silent, not a word is spoke                                        
     yet listen closely, and music is found.                                   
                                                                               
     The wind's soft whisper, a stream's playful bubbling                      
     the soft creaking branches of trees                                       
     The music plays softly, not at all troubling                              
     Nothing plays in the minor of keys.      

     The maple and oak, the ash and the willow                                 
     stand guard o'er me as I cry                                              
     I lay down beside you, green mound is my pillow                           
     as I sing to you my last lullaby                                          
                                                                               
     Each note wakes memories as weeping I sing                                
     and the leaves rustle gently o'er me                                      
     Soft whispers laden, my voice softly breaking                             
     as I know I must go leave you be.                                         
                                                                               
     The ash and the willow, the maple and oak                                 
     stand guard in a small silent grove                                       
     I stand by you gazing, not a word can be spoke                            
     as I say good-bye to you up above.