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Donnerstag, 23. Oktober 2008

ERIC EMUNAH part I-III

Thema: The remarkable
Zeit: 9.33 Uhr CET
Autor: uaerosenkranz
Stimmung: entspannt
Musik: Barbareah! LHS





ERIC EMUNAH



Chapter I

Prolog – The Old Druid



In the year of 554 Columban I., the Old Irish Druid took the white robe of the peregrines.

He gave a Cana to his Anamchara: whenever one of them shall be dying isolated from the continent, they shall bury him in sacred soil, where “heaven meets the earth”. He went from Lindisfarne to Iona, moved to Bangor and later on shipped to the isle of Mont St.Michéle in France. On his way over the Channel, his boat was conquered by some Walsh ships. He was wounded and his mates brought his injured body to the monolith stones of LeCarnac. His breaking eyes saw the circle of ring wall at the end of the long alley. “YES, it’s done! Let this astronomic clockwork come to the righteous heir oft the Kingdom of Christ!” With these words he laid his head down forever. A sudden shiny star appeared and marked a cross in the ring of fire at the end of the row, when his spirit vanished in the misty air.

The shivering golden shield of Stonehenge, showing the seven stars, telling from former times, and predicting the future, passed to his Anamchara.

A long time ago, when even the pyramids have not been built, this star shield has been manufactured by an unknown master, now it was buried as a gift together with Columban´s corpus.

Chapter II – ERIC

500 years later a few Viking ships anchored at the coast of Bretagne. Foreigners launched the boats for sea and landed between the rocks. Misty fogs covered the illuminated shore, myriads of little crabs colonised the black stones and swift basins. But this fog was not normal. Superstitious starlight sparkling through the set of sun like gigantic weather lightening showed the northern conquerors their way to the columns of Karnack.

The horses trampled hastily over the grassland. Eric kept a tight rein on his brave Friesian. His horse stood still, stamping nervously on the ground, while the young king was waiting for the whole army with their fair-haired Shetland-ponies. 300 Horsemen followed ERIC II, the uncrowned Prince of Denmark.

“Anon!” shouted Eric- “Brave hearts, let us have a rest under the bricks of the ring wall, before this shiny midsummer night will give message of our heartily welcomed army in this area of evil!” His elder horsemen went in front of the younger soldiers, finding a place to calm down and bind the steaming animals.

At the glowing horizon the purple haze fog arose with spots of fluffing white clouds, looking like a herd of sheep, comforted by a good Shepard.



Chapter III – Fire in the ring of stones

The warm flames of the fire in the midst of the circle of stones licked like tongues of snakes around the shades of the monoliths. Between the burning heaven and the deep blue see Eric’s kinsmen seemed to be caught by a crucial test. An atmosphere of anxious rumour lay around the dancing figures of trees and rocks. Each silhouette pretended to be a kind of dragon. A golden shiny mood lightened the faces of the tired men, who were carefully cradled among their Christian crosses and the Celtic columns.

When the cracking crossfire of the cooked crabs came to an end, chalices of beer and baked bread were given from one to another.

Eric washed his hands and held his arms into the rough midsummer wind. His Northland Heroes prepared the saddle and helmet beds. While they sat down and began to sleep, their young king took breeze and walked across the circle. The salt of the nearby see smelled spicy in his thirsty throat. He remembered the blessing, which his father gave to him, when he sent him offshore. Hornets of met, wine, and beer amused his companions. The whole flock was sent amongst the wolves. Eric wanted to sing and tell old stories with his friends, but something suspicious seemed to stimulate the senses of the severe sovereign. His solid valiant warrior’s shoulders stretching up towards the sparkling stars, he took his shield and spear. Exactly in the middle of the two huge stonewalls, which built a long spacey corridor, he found a watchtower. He climbed up the few steps and looked upon the warning rocky fingers, scraping the sky. When he figured out the shapes of Celtic culture, he immediately shivered. Quickly he jumped down and ran into the centre of the circle. He put down his shield with the leather surface onto the ground. From the inner side of the shield he turned out a round plate that was fixed in the centre and marked the evening star in the north. With the outer ring of the soucer he figured the Great Bear. Then he marked the point, where the circle of the rocks crossed the constellation of Taurus.

Although his chevaliers knew little about their leader’s Arcanum behaviour, they were astonished, when he suddenly drew his sword, holding it like a cross into the southern sky and stroke it with a majestic curve into a piece of soft soil surface among the surrounding stony ground.

The sword sang like a harp, when it hit the ground. The hauling of a greyhound answered. The Crab Fog and the full summer moon gave this pale scene a superstitious look.




Tags: story telling
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