Elashava's Line
| Wyndreth Berginsdottir |
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In the Northern night
where the snow falls the deepest and the wind has teeth, the brightest star of all shines. Gwyneth taught us this pure truth. Hear the thunder roll in hills all green as summer. Horses race the storm, their hooves like war drums sounding, to kneel before Kassandra. Blossoms of all hues bloom bright from the skeins of Spring. Therica knows each, makes a brilliant tapestry with her needles and her will. The wind, it bays loud and tracks the golden steppes. But not as swiftly or as fierce as those keen hounds who fly to Nina's bidding. In the dark night sky, like banners wove of rainbow or ghost-fires burning, the Northern Lights hold their court. Prism's grace outshines them all. Wisdom burns the flame as long as learning fuels it and teaching fans it. Fiona kindles the spark into the fires that warm us. On the dusty road to War with the dire Tiger many soldiers tread. Isabel walks among them, wields sword and smile as equals, In the meadow stands an oak amid the briers. Steadfast she stands tall through the wind and rain and fire. This oak, she is Kelinda. The truth of iron is in its strength and beauty. In the world of steel Eilika is a fine blade, fair and fearsome defender. The warm breeze carries the perfume of the desert through these green valleys. The sun's own exotic gift is Jasamin, desert bloom. Silk so light it floats like wings of cloud in moonlight. Leyla is that silk-- graceful as rippled water, as unbreakable, as strong. The steppes' rolling plains ring with young mirth and laughter-- Aramanthra's horde. She holds the Northshield's future as she holds the children's hands. Elashava comes. Strong weft to these many strands, weaving history and legacy and future in one great bright band: Northshield! © 05/01/2002 Karen L. U. Kahan |
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