Faery Continuation of Macron Diminished

King Winthrop had rooms prepared at once for the nobles of the Baron. Magnificent parlors draped in purple and green tapestry complete with ivory chessman on boards of cedar. Fresh rushes were placed for the less fortunate servants in the stone hall where they would reside till morning broke. A wild boer was killed and the plumpest apple was picked and rolled in sweet honey for the hogs mouth.

Baron Woodcock was merry for a long while, till Corabelle was brought in for the banquet. Dressed in a gray silk with purple girdle and scarlet poppies embroidered on the neck and sleeves, Corabelle curtsied to the King and then took her place on the right.
"Good evening Uncle Winthrop. Good evening Baron Woodcock," said Corabelle coldly.
"My dear sit down! We have with us tonight a vegetarian boer with honeyed apple stuffed in his unruly mouth! Minstrels and Jesters!" called King Winthrop thumping his scepter on the table.

Baron Woodcock sat back and twiddled his thumbs as the fools and minstrels danced sheepishly around the tables. He scowled as the entertainment progressed. "Enough!" cried the Baron. The Minstrels ran out with their guitars and the jesters with cocked hats flying.
"Well, Baron, my good fellow! Tell me thou story and business here in my far-fetched country," said King Winthrop groggily. He called for more spiced wine.

I shall tell you My business here in your far fetched country, O King. I am to leave next dawn for my hideaway of the Macron and there I shall make plans to woo the Lady Corabelle for a thousand pieces of silver and five mines of rarest jewels. Including my best dwarfs as miners for your majesty." The Baron stopped and reached for his goblet.
"You are drunk! Or you are lying!" cried Corabelle, standing up.
Silence, my niece, silence," said King Winthrop. "I shall of course make such a decision for you."
King Winthrop cleared his throat. "Our dearest country has know extreme poverty for decades and we would be most happy with mines and thousands of pieces. But how may I ask, ow will thou transport thy mines to our country?"
"I shall hitch all my horses to large wagons and bring all the jewels here and store then in your caverns, O King," answered Baron Woodcock slyly.
"And perhaps might our halls be carpeted?" asked WKing Winthrop rubbing his hands.
"Yes of course! The deepest green or red carpets of all the land!" praised Baron Woodcock.
"Done! Corabelle you leave tomorrow with Baron Woodcock. I acknowledge the marriage."
Corabelle cried aloud and fled.

to be continued.

The Macron Diminished: A Faery Tale

Once upon a time in a far-fetched country, there lived a fair damsel by the name of Corabelle.
She had curls of gold and a brow of purest white and azure eyes which flashed cold when provoked.

Living in a high tower at the battlements of her Uncle, King Winthrop the II, Corabelle would sing lyrical songs on her bony lute to pass the dreary hours away. This had gone on for ever since little Corabelle was a little girl of seven and after her father, the Duke Cleric, and her mother the Lady Annabel had died of the plague.

One day the Baron Woodcock of the adjoining land of Ganderside came by with all his regiment to have a jolly visit with the the King.
The baron, Woodcock as he passed by on his fat white steed with purple banners fluttering behind him and the carts carrying his nobles, he heard a sweet sound coming from Corabelle's tower. Corabelle was singing a sad ballad of a black swan when Baron Woodcock motioned his knights nearer.

"Halt my good knights! What dost thou hear?"
A knight holding an alabaster helmet answered. "A fair lady is doing her utmost to welcome us with song and voice. If that be so, let us throw roses and serenade with your heralds, my Lord."
Yes! Fetch me the lovely flower of love, Sir Marc of Ganderside! I swear to give you my jeweled watch if thou does my bidding."
Baron Woodcock slapped the rump of his fat white horse and galloped under the window grinning foolishly.

The only flower Sir Marc found were blackberry blossoms and daises which were made into a crown and the bramble de-thorned. Both were tossed up and the heralds blew with all their might.

Corabelle looked out her window and grimaced. "Stop you Heralds! What do you mean by this? Imposed on a lady in her wer? Do you think I am the gatekeeper? Begone foolish knaves, Piggish nobles and barmy Baron!"
She tossed down the flowers and shut the window.

The Baron turned purple and with rage tore the wreath to unwanted shreds, looked at his knights and nobles and spoke. "She is like an ornery cow. But while this is past, let us present ourselves to the King Winthrop and bribe some refreshment and spiced wine."

To be continued sometime;)