[Elfsea] Chivalry ----- essay-----

[Synrik]

Chivalry is something that some are near born with, others are
developing, and quite a few will never have.

But no matter how you cut it, chivalry is your "Actions" which in turn
express your intent from which it came.

The best example that I can think of (Historically) is of the Knights
Templar or the Knights of St. Michael.

To be truthful and honest to the point of going hungry or loosing your
head.  To dig a grave, to comfort the dead and wounded, to be the one to
block the pass through no one will ever know your name.  To be weighted
down by lands and gold, but to wear the pilgrims robes.  To be without,
but to give up half your own cloak to him that has none.  To stand up
for the weak and a honorable code though it is 'inconvenient'.  This
person would have a honest smile and a kind word for all that comes
straight from the heart.  They would be welcome in any house;
unassuming, you know they will always do the right thing though no one
ever hears of it.  They get the job done and still have time for a dance
or to kiss a Lady's hand.

In all these things, they would be peaceful and relaxed.  For it is by
their nature that these actions stem.  And by their grace, clarity and
peace will you know them.

They would be called brother by the old orders of worrier monks though
they may never raise a blade, the tongue being the sharper of the two.

This person would be Chivalrous though they be surprised that they were
considered as such.

When Chivalrous actions stem from the heart and spirit of a Noble
person, tempered by the art and wisdom of the line of Solomon; then you
have a King.

---------------------------------------------------------

Over the last couple of years, I've really only seen a couple of
incidents that stand out as being Chivalrous.  I will try to tell the
tale correctly.

At Water War (Gulf War VIII), on the dreary morn of Saturday, there was
a young man with a silly grin and a shovel, all completely soaked.  He
was busily digging away a good size ditch around and about the camp of
Sir Keith and others when I saw that he was taking particular care
around two small dome tents.  When I looked at him in a questioning
manor he said, "Shhhhush , , , , , Children are sleeping."

"And your tent is . . . . . ?"

At that point he pointed with the tip of his shovel to a hippo wallow in
which it looked as if someone had dress the poor beast up as a clown and
then drowned him where they found it.  "I sent it out to be washed."

<->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->
The next Day (same war) . . . . . . . I saw a pair of feet sticking up
out of the mud from under a poor a weary dragon of the realm.  Fearing
the worst had occurred (that the dragon had sat on him), I ran and began
pulling on the mud covered . . . . . thing that I thought was to be his
leg.  "Stop that I say", came a burbling from underneath, "I'm nearly
done with the harness so you can then hook up the trailer".

Soon afterwards, the gentleman extracted himself so that I may ply him
with a warm cup of broth, and he told me of his tale.

His ship had not pulled in to port (Elfsea) from the mundane lands, when
he was off with wife and child to the war.  Lucky for him he was able to
have his camp ready for his arrival for the sandman was more than
knocking after being fended off for more than two days.  But upon waking
the next morn to the sound of rain and thunder, he said to himself, "At
least it will be cool."  But when his child's tent began floating away,
he knew that things was pretty much shot.  So he sent his wife and child
packing back home, and began walking up and down the roads to see who he
could help.  For the next day and a half he helped and slogged up a down
the roads.  Not wanting to impose, he slept for a while in a warm yet
soggy corner of a bath-house with but a crust and half a cup to ease his
stomach.

And their I found him, more mud than man, with the steam of the broth
clouding his eyes, and asked him if there was anything that I can do for
him.  With a silly grin, he wiped the mud from his coronet and said, "If
you could round up some cheese and a beer for this broth, then I think
that I'll be doing just fine".

And this I did.

<->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->
On a sunny day, there was but a yard devoted to the pursuits of war.
And in this yard were half a dozen young men who pursued these arts with
all their might in silence of the summer air.  One of these young men
seemed though to be a bit slower and the worse for ware . . . . . a long
night on the town was suspected.  But asked directly, he stated that his
ribs did hurt him, but that he would be OK.

Then his companion arrived and seem overwhelmed that he was there at
all.  "Get out of that armor you ass.  The doctors will have your hide
if they were to see you now."

"But the bear-pit has just begun."

And then the truth came out as for what type of knight was truly had.

For as it seems, a beautiful young woman had decided to go out on the
town to dance the night away, but a trio of rogues had differing ideas
as for how the evening would end.  But if you really want to get ahead
as a rogue among the streets and night life, one should also look
carefully into the alleys that you tend to traffic in.  For not two
minutes had passed than the muffled squeals of the young lady and the
jibes of the rogues were interrupted by a large piece of a nearby wall
sloughing off into their mists.  It seams that a Viking trying to clear
one's head from the mead is not a pleasant person in the least.

But in the commotion of the rogues feet beating a very painful and hasty
retreat and the babbling of the much to young red-head, our Viking at
least had sense enough to ask for a late dinner. . . . . . . And later
to meet with some friends to get four stitches and the bruised ribs
bandaged.  And other than a smile and a cup of coffee, no payment was
made for the kindness of the moment.  He doesn't even know her name.

But why should he fight on such a morn after?

"A promise made is a promise kept . . . . . . Only death would have
stopped that."

"Besides, It's my house!"

<->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->  <->

Of all of these people, none of them (that I know of) ever were given
recognition for their actions.  Were they all Chivalrous?  Yes Sir, to
their very bones, Sir!  But that is the people that they are.  And as
far as I know, only one of them still plays in the SCA.

But it is also the little things in life that makes one Chivalrous as
well.  Your baring and carriage, the sweat words to a Lady and the
garish language used towards one's foe.  The simple act of kindness, or
a rose or joke at just the right moment.  As another said, it is the
willingness to bring a smile to another's face.  But it has to come from
the heart, the very core of your being.

And that is the whole point: Chivalry is an expression of your very
being.  Nothing force, rehearsed or planned for; it's just who you are.
A Knight of old in the age of the Wolf.





(And looking back over this, I see that I've written 1000 words and I'm
not sure if the spirit is coming across being that it is the written
word.  But comment and criticize and forward as you will.  This is just
but part of the ramblings that I have used in the place of true Bardic.
Some of the others being 'The Bering a Character of  Nobility' and 'The
Arts and Sciences: Zen and Tao'. )