<font color=#254125 face=times size=2><font style="text-transform:lowercase">may you sing the deeds of glory</font></font>

may you sing the deeds of glory
IP: 82.19.140.112
Posted on October 6, 2013 at 06:28:17 PM by t r i s t a n

The grass always seems greener on the other side. An old expression, but one that seemed to eternally ring true. Tristan had learned, and was aware, that he was privileged, and that he had things that many of the faeries in Shaman could only dream of. Everything in life however, came at a cost, and sometimes the prince felt that freedom was the price he paid for who he was and what life had given him. He read stories of the deeds and glories of kings and princes, but he read too of the adventures of those who had the freedom to choose their destinies for themselves. From the moment that Tristan had been born his life had already been largely mapped out for him, and when his elder brother had died, his path had become even more restricted. He spent his days in the training yard and in the schoolroom, learning and acquiring the skills he would need so that one day he could rule a kingdom. He had been taught that the well-being of the people of Shaman was his responsibility, and that ensuring their continued prosperity was his duty. One day he would be their King and the expectation that came with that knowledge was sometimes nothing short of suffocating.

As Hal ploughed his way along the path, and Tristan ducked and leaned within his saddle it felt like he had found freedom and distraction. His focus was upon the thundering of hooves, the feel of the horse beneath him, and the leaves on the branches that scratched past his face when he wasn�t quick enough. He turned his head and grinned at Alistair as they shot around a bend in the road, sending mud splattering in all directions as the horses hastily adjusted their direction as their riders instructed. �You need to spend more time with me,� Tristan teased as the ground levelled out and he was able to shift some of his attention away from his riding and onto his companion, �at least you know where to find me now.�

Tristan lead them down a less well-trodden track, easing Hal back into a trot, until the trees opened up into a clearing. The plant life grew around the edge of the grassy glade, like the walls of a stadium, and save for the odd tree root, the grass lay flat and even over the earth. The prince leapt free of his saddle before his horse had come completely to a halt, and landed on the ground nimbly. He reached up and patted Hal�s neck, before pulling a roll of white tape and some tent pegs from his bag. Alistair�s question made him pause. �I�m the prince,� Tristan smiled by way of explanation, shrugging his shoulders, �not the king. If I misbehave and displease my father enough, then he tries to teach me a lesson by taking away things I like doing. I disobey him sometimes, and take them anyway, because sometimes I feel like if I stay in the castle doing what I�m supposed to be doing, I�ll run mad.� He wondered vaguely if his friend would understand, as he began to unroll the tape, splitting the clearing into two with the white line, and securing it in place upon the grass with the pegs. �Have you ever ridden in a mounted melee?� Tristan asked, his brightness returning with his grin, �because if not, you�re about to learn.�

_{photography by Dominic�s pics | Mark Cutler at flickr.com}
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