Solo – Page 6 – Meddlings of the Minnesinger

November 10, 2016September 20, 2017

Fall Crown Tournament

It was a bright and sunny day. Not as warm as I’d hoped it would be, but warm enough, nonetheless. This would be my first Crown consorting for Sir Marcus. I was told I would have some mighty shoes to fill. After all, Astrid was a mighty viking. I was dressed in my finest garb, newly made for the occasion, because I lost my other finest garb — which of course, I found as soon as Crown was over.

I was early to site, with a hidden treasure tucked under my arm. I had been made aware that a month and a half prior that Dona Camille was to receive her Laurel. I had put myself to the task of composing a new piece for someone who had taken me under her wing. I found it quite the challenge to put to words what this human being was to me. So I did the next best thing. I reached out to her cadet, Trian, and asked him if he was willing to scheme with me. What a silly question that was. Of course he easily agreed.

By Trian’s hand, with a little help from me, there would be words. Due to location, and both of us being on the go individuals, we found it hard to meet up in person, however, thanks to the joys of modern machines, we were able to Skype and use Googledocs to compose at the same time. Have I mentioned how much I love modern machines? Because I really do.

I mean, we used doves, and carrier pigeons, and the Black Arts…. Yeah…

Anyways, after a few nights of tediously working and edit after edit after edit (what rhymes with Camille?) we were both sorta, kinda, maybe okay with what we considered to be the final lyrical product. It was now time for me to work my magic. *spits in hands, rubs palms together, then grimaces at gross hands* ugh….

The muse ran away. Even after I hog-tied her. Of course she did, stupid, frivolous muse! Even after all the shinies I gave her too. Then, as the muse does, in typical muse fashion, I laid in my bed, and she smacked me upside the head around 1, maybe 3 am. Eureka! I needed some tissues to wipe up the way it flowed.

I called up Trian to present the product, and he provided only minor feedback. I’d say that’s a win, right? Not bad for musical vomit in the wee hours of the morning, right?

So, back to Crown, after my musical malady had been cured. I’ll admit most of my focus was on my consort. After all, it was my duty to the East Kingdom, and him, to be who he needed me to be. I spent hours chewing at my fingernails, watching each of his combatants being laid to rest. Between bouts, I would check on Sir Marcus, and then run over to the vigil, to where Dona Camille had been taken that morning. I was lucky to have known the guards well, and gotten my name on the list when I was available. Text in a frame tucked under my arm, I made my way into the tent. The frame sat face-down in my lap and I began to explain to Camille in what words I could muster, who she was and what she meant to me. I turned over the frame, and almost skittishly provided the art that Trian and I had collaborated on. It was to no surprise that rivers ran down her cheeks — not the first time, and not the last that day. I wonder if the pollen counts were too high?

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I then hurried back to the list field when my time was up to watch my champion. Sadly, soon after Sir Marcus lost his second fight and was eliminated from the tournament. This was in the top six if I recall correctly. I couldn’t have been more proud of my friend. He fought bravely and chivalrously, and was an inspiration to the fighter inside myself.

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Soon after, we had our new Prince and Princess, Ionness and Honig, and it was time for court. It would be my first time attending a Crown Tournament court, and after I made myself comfortable next to some familiar faces, court began as dark quickly fell. Her new Highness, Honig, was presenting her first award as a Lady of the Rose, and she called my name. I was flabbergasted, trying to figure out what I could have done wrong. Honig had been, until recently, part of Malagentia, the local group, so she knew of some of my shenanigans, but I couldn’t think of anything horrible enough to get called up in front of court for. She called me up to present a token for my poise on the field. She said to me that she was impressed with my behavior, and how I presented myself as a consort. I gratefully accepted the token, and went back to my seat, where I buried myself in my cloak for the rest of the court.

The Maiden of the Gardens

Through solitude’s blooming orchid garden,

A graceful and elegant maiden does stride,

Enters our lady, Camille Desjardins,

Lavender waves across an amethyst tide.

The flowers herald her arrival,

Blossom with each step serene,

As if her presence Spring’s revival,

All in her grace stay evergreen.

Careful she gazes upon their beauty,

with every floret’s form observed,

For she accepts her kingdom’s duty,

to see them on a scroll preserved.

Her brushstrokes capture and acclaim,

the trappings of renown and glory,

To skill and service she does bring fame,

And to great battle, and claimed quarry.

Upon her parchment she infuses,

Life into the artistry she weaves,

She is the favored of the muses,

Her inspiration the lakes and leaves.

She captures the beauty of color and light,

Immortalizing honors with ink and quill,

To bring glory to those who do right,

Her patient hands bear unwavering skill.

This art alone could be life’s labor,

Yet her talent flows without such bounds,

Her voice, her stitch, her nimble saber,

The quality of which astounds.

Her voice can soothe a heart of fire,

Granting peace and granting reason,

As a lark’s call disperses ire,

that sounds upon the warming season.

Her mastery of fiber weaving,

Shows clearly within her stitch,

The way she blends fiber receiving,

awe from those it does enrich.

And none would dare to test her mettle,

As this gentle flower does adorn,

Herself with not just purple petal,

But with the our kingdom’s golden thorn.

A woman finely celebrated,

In talents stitched and inked and floral,

Does rightly need be elevated,

Into the Order of the Laurel.

Words by : Trian O’Bruadair / Sólveig Bjarnardóttir

Music by : Sólveig Bjarnardóttir

September 9, 2016September 21, 2017

Harvest Moon 2016

By the light of the silvery moon!

Malagentia, land of the bad people and my home. I am so proud to be one of yours and surrounded by so many talented people. I would make it my mission to amongst you.

Harvest Moon 2016 was the first year Baronial Bard would be re-established since prior to my entry into the SCA in 2010. I decided I would compete in everything I would be eligible for. I arrived on site, early, to see where I could be of service. I also would be as social as possible early on so I could make sure to be social but be a part of everything I could at this small and crammed event. Upon my walk about the site, I had bumped into an individual who i don’t see often, but still try to be polite to. What started as an average conversation quickly turned into a baradement of me for something I apparently had done in the past. I will leave out the gory details (Which I do not believe I did anything wrong) but note that I now felt uneasy. I felt shaken and like I shouldn’t even compete today whether it be in fencing or Bardic.

I wandered over to one of my mentors, Mistress Camille de Jardin (At the time, Dona Camille), and expressed my woes. She, as she often does, with grace, helped to not only provide a Bardic pep talk, but also had convinced me to don my fencing armor and face her in the fencing tournament. This silly and but fun tournament had lifted my spirits. Though the tournament was coming to a close, the heralds had called for those entering the Bardic tournament to come to the Barn. I resigned my spot in the fencing tournament and rushed to the Barn (This is after changing garb, fixing my hair and making myself look like a more presentable viking.

The Barn had a moderate sized crowd (Larger than expected as there were still other tournaments going on). The format was as follows:

The first piece was the performer’s choice. I decided to go with a piece that was well within my repertoire and that I felt confident that I could perform well. It has always been my experience to start off with a bang and start on a strong note so that if your next piece is not as good, you could have something to stand on.

The second piece was a random subject from a hat. We could perform any genre (Song, Story, Poem, Dance) but it had to be from the subject picked and did not have to be memorized. My subject was “Home”. I could think of no better song to perform than my mentor, Mistress Analeda Falconbridge’s, “I am of the North”. It was not perfect, but it was heartfelt and the audience joined me.

As we waited for them to announce the winner, I sat next to friends and the gentleman I had been competing against. There was a child, no older than 6 who decided to get up and perform as well. Between asking that gentleman who competed again me to please continue to teach and perform. Intermittently, I could not help but but be in awe of the bravery of the young lady on stage, performing the heck out of twinkle twinkle little star.

While watching this young lady and waiting for the judges to come back with their decision, It occurred to me that I had been focusing too much on competitions and what judges thought of me. It had been a long performance journey for me since college and feeling validated had been in the forefront of my mind. I watched this child perform for the pure joy of performing and I needed to find this again.

The judges re-convened and I was announced the winner. The win was still one for me to add so I could do more for the Province, but it was at this point I would focus more on the joy than winning.

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August 12, 2016September 20, 2017

Bardic Around the Fire, Part Deux

It’s that time again, kids! Or well, adults! Might be best to leave the kids at home for this one!

Back by popular demand, Bardic Around the Fire Part Deux was held at Kythe and Sine’s, on another nice, balmy late June/early July evening (things tend to run together when too much fun is had around a fire with good friends, good food, and some good booze). Much like the previous year, there were both new and familiar faces. IT seemed like people knew what to expect, so there was very little for me to manage. There did seem to be a lot more plebeians this time, who were ready to request their favorite song or story, but not quite ready to step onto the stage themselves.

Food was a drop more sparse in variety this time, but the alcohol made up for it, and flowed quite nicely. The only children we seemed to have this time were not really young in age, just in heart. This time we even had Battlecat Zeus in attendance, all hail his purrfectness! I swear, if people weren’t performing, they were petting this damn cat. The night roared on, much like the fire, but I had to leave at a reasonable hour, because some of us had work the next morning *grumble grumble* But I would definitely call this another success.

July 25, 2016September 21, 2017

The Great Balloon Festival, 2016

The Viking invades Auburn, again! A teensy bit tardy this time, because she’s overcommitted. #shocker, right?

It’s time to make the music again! But this time, instead of heavylift gear, I brought things to stab people with. I had heard over the winter that rapiers made for sexier bards, so I decided to try it out. # +4tocharisma, am I right? Bard book in hand, the filk that had started last summer would be coming to life. Mwahahaha!

My repertoire had grown twice over since last year, so I was lucky enough to have more of a variety to pick and choose from. This time, instead of staying in Bardic Grove, I wandered throughout or medieval town. I channeled my inner Miss Piggy and hammed it up. See what I did there, hehe?

Again, after hours of singing, I decided that it was time to go play on the dark side of things and go stab my friends. After all, what is better therapy than stabbing those you play board games with? I think my favorite part of fencing demos is it’s just like being in stage at a B-rated play. I once again channeled my inner Bruce Campbell, a la Army of Darkness, while alive, and my Paul Rubens, a la that horrible Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie that even Joss Whedon admits isn’t canon (shut up, Karen! I like that movie!) when dying. The night came quickly, and I was off like a light, because mundania yelled at me that I had to go apartment hunting — stupid mundane life!

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July 14, 2016September 21, 2017

The Great Northeastern War

O cantare, O solo mio!

A few months prior to the war, I was approached by the A and S minister, Lord Frederick Vandeveer, about giving a concert at the event. Excitement and anxiety rushed over me, you might say it came in like a wrecking ball!

I eagerly accepted, and had thus sealed my fate. After allowing this information to sink into my brain, I realized that, while working a standard 40 hour per week job, my skadian career, modeling, cosplaying, fencing, and an overwhelming need to satiate a need for social connection, an hour-long concert would be a little bit of an undertaking to attempt on my own.

So I decided to call in a life line and make this a tag-team Super Friends concert.

Thus, the birth of Lady Solveig and Friends!

I reached out in a frantic… I mean “composed” (yea, we’ll go with that) fashion to all my talented friend base of performers. The super list included Mistress Analitta Falconbridge, His Excellency Jean Du Montagne, Lady Eva Southerland, and Lady Nuala McKensie.

I had asked all except for Eva to have 2-3 pieces of diverse style to perform. Eva was local to me and would not only be performing her own pieces, but accompanying me on guitar as well. I had also asked everyone to include the titles and duration of their contributions. I should note this was my first time ever organizing a concert.

Eva and I got together many times to rehearse up until the day of the concert. The concert was scheduled for Saturday after court, which seemed to run on forever. To be fair, most GNE courts do. Originally the concert had been scheduled in Bardic Grove, however, due to the copious amounts of rain that had fallen, a more apt title at the time may have been “Bardic Lake”. Therefor, the concert had been moved to the barn.

8:30 or so, I hauled ass to the barn, trying to stay as dry as possible. I was blessed to have heralds announcing the concert, or I fear no one would have come. Circum 9:00, we had about 45 attendees, but 2 of my performers were still missing. But, alas, the show must go on!

I sat on the stage in front of the audience and had a casual conversation with them to warm up the crowd, and perhaps to calm my own quickened heartbeat. And after about 5 minutes of this, only 1 of my 2 missing performers had shown up. Jean De la Montagne, with his 21 Charisma (+5 modifier!) strolled in with his infamous hat (with admirably long plumage!). He offered up this hat to me, and it seemed to have magic powers. The hat bestowed upon its wearer (now me) a new sense of bravado and confidence. At this point, the concert began.

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Songs wove between the first 4 performers until the 5th had finally shown. There was no competition between the performers. Our only battle was against the rain, with its tapping against the roof a constant backdrop to any music we sought to perform.

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At one point, I was so bold as to entice the audience to join in the song. I taught them the round, “Rose, rose”, and had them sing in 4 parts. On top of that, I added another layer of “Poor Bird”, and, finally, Mistress Aneleda added an addition layer of “Hey Ho”.

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About an hour later, the concert was over, and the rain had let up. This whole concert seemed to be in perfect harmony, and I had earned some new followers. All in all, a rather positive experience.

June 20, 2016September 20, 2017

Palio

Palio is known to be an event full of family gathers and olympic style competition. The three contradas make up the entire Barony of Stonemarche, based on region. This year, I would get to participate.

I picked my team on who bribed me the most. Viking. Bling. I would be a member of Sole. I’ll admit I was there not just to compete in the games, but because the current Baronial Bard could not attend, and someone had to run Golden Tongue. It was strange to find myself mostly inspired by a four year old child. He was courteous as well as enthusiastic, and a damned good sport. I lost most of my day following this young individual.

That night, when the festivities were over, I found myself with multiple camping catastrophes. I didn’t bring my tent stakes. My air mattress cover was gone. My food was bleh. I found a nearby household who offered not only an air mattress, but their generous hospitality, all in exchange for song. I was in awe of their unselfishness, and perhaps had found a new home away from home for the weekend.

After I had had my fill of dinner, I was off to go make donuts — I mean, run Golden Tongue. Once again, Ruadh and I had paired up, since we had so much fun the previous year. I was amazed to see only three competitors, so I went around volentolding people. By the time I had finished, our competitors had tripled. We even had someone who didn’t know they were competing!

We had the eight knowing competitors, and then our one wild card, which brings back a fun memory. I didn’t mention this in my prior post, because I thought nothing of it. But the previous year at Harper’s Retreat, there had been loud, thudding noises during my performance. I thought nothing of it, as this had happened before.

This new eide-eyed performer began to tell a tale in eloquent detail, of a Harper’s Retreat where she was essentially playing a handmaiden for her friend. They had been sitting, watching the Bardic Competitions, when during the performance they were watching, they noticed a spider making its way up the dress of her “noble lady.” A silent scream escaped the lady’s lips as she began to panic: she was very allergic to spiders. In equal measures quietly and frantically as the handmaiden could, she tried to make a swift demise for said spider.

The lightbulb in my brain went on, and I finally found out what those thumping noises had been last year.

After she finished her story, I announced that Ruadh and I would step out to deliberate for the Champion. Our wildcard went doe-eyed. She apparently had also just put two and two together that this was a competition.

Ruadh and I made a swift decision and came back to make our announcement; though this time we held the prize until court.

The following morning, rested and chipper, I had gathered vocalists together to create a vocal accompaniment for their Excellencies procession into court. After all, what would the olympics be without music?

With permission, we had rehearsed Oriens Victoriosus by Mistress Aneleda Falconbridge. We rehearsed for an hour, and then they were free until court. I was pretty darn proud of our progress.

Time for court!

I grabbed my choir, even with harp accompaniment, and we sang as their Excellencies and retenue processed in. Once we finished, I remained standing with special permission, that young boy who had brought so much awe into my life deserved to be honored. I called him into court, and presented him a personal token that he so duly deserved. I found out later that his parents had been the autocrats. It was no shock to me that he was of their lineage.

Finally, as if it weren’t enough, I had put her Excellency up to no good. It was a dear friend of mine’s birthday that day, so I had conspired to have her Excellency to have him called up into court as if he had done something wrong. While his back was to the court, my choir members secretly passed out a copy of the Birthday Dirge to all in attendance. When he finally realized what was going on, the entire court raised their voices to celebrate his birthday with the dirge.

I’m really glad he wasn’t armed, or else I might not be here to tell the tale.

June 17, 2016January 18, 2022

The Birth of Ravensbridge

This piece was composed for the the incipient shire of Ravensbridge. They has put forth a challenge to compose a Song/Story/Poem about their inception. This was my response. Recording to come.