[Bards] The rest of the story . . .

[Faelan Caimbeul]

It's been asked what the rest of the story is about Robin at 12th night. 
Well, here it is (my no Sh*t there I was . . . )

At a grand dinner not so very long ago, a wizened and practiced man of 
poetry sat rehearsing with nervous heart for a performance that evening. 
He studiously prepared, pouring over his words, emotion flooding his 
silence, a mask of grim determination and passion firmly fixed on his 
bearded face, but the words which so powerfully flowed from his lips 
came in a rush of silence to all who passed him.

Minstrels played, ballads were sung and joyous cheers filled the halls. 
Between each, the twin fools, one desperate to perform, the other deftly 
parrying any attempt and restraining the dolt, introduced each piece in 
their own way. Finally, the time came for the grey haired bard to take 
the stage.

Silence fell upon the room. The Great Bard took to the stage, his normal 
cheerful mask now taught with thoughts of the glory of the tale he was 
about to weave. Passion and honor, glory and death came forth on the 
tide of poetry and performance. Vivid were the images of the Duke, 
felled in battle by the enemy’s spear; the Master of Arms, rushing to 
his Duke’s aid; the young Squire, leading his knight’s army into the 
fray, destroying the walls of the enemy and smiting their ruin upon the 
fields of honor. Silence greeted him, the audience enraptured by the 
power of the Great Bard’s words. When it ended, his heart spent, the 
Great Bard was greeted with a great roar applause that was deafening in 
the tiny hall.

The Great Bard stepped down, dubious of his performance, ever too 
critical of his own words; he felt they should have been more. As he sat 
down to rest, his heart drained, having been poured out in his story, 
two figures came forward from the darkness of the hall. The two men, the 
Master of Arms and young Squire, now Knight of the Realm, came to the 
Great Bard. It was they of whom the Great Bard had told, it was their 
glory that inspired his words; glory which only grew in the telling.

With tears of great pride and humility, the two men, warriors of honor 
and pride, did kneel and remove from their very boots the symbols of 
their station. Such was their honor raised, and their hearts moved by 
the glorious words of the Great Bard, did they present him with their 
spurs.

And that is how Robin of Gilwell; Master of the Laurel, Master of the 
Pelican, Don of Ansteorra, got his spurs. And now you know, the rest of 
the tale.

Lord Faelan Caimbeul