Good Solstice, milliways_bar

[jack_inthegreen]

In the gray pre-dawn light, the man in green has been busy.

There are rows of trestle tables set up by the lake--far from the new grave as well as anything else that might be disturbed by such things--and on the central table he sets up the horn of plenty he carved the day before. Now he lays a hand on the wood and quietly asks the elements around it to fill the horn and assemble themselves, so that there will be plenty to eat and it will all be nourishing and tasty. When he has done this the horn begins to fill and soon food is spilling out: fruit and bottles of wine and loaves of bread and slabs of cold cooked meats and wheels of cheese and whatever else a patron might think to ask for.

At the end of the rows of tables there is a wooden platform, with a small raised stage for musicians and plenty of room for dancers. Jack has found no one to play pipes but no matter, there are still musicians aplenty should anyone wish to dance. And he hopes they will, for what's a celebration without dancing?

Beyond the tables there is a small course set up for races, just a starting- and finish-lines marked off. There is a large rope for tug-of-war, various props like sacks for sack races and spoons for an egg-and-spoon race, and a pitch for bowls and another for playing horsehoes. He thought about playing tossing the caber but decided that might be pushing things a bit, even here.

Farthest from the bar proper is the bonfire, currently unlit. He pauses there and asks the fire within the wood to do no harm to anyone, that there will be no stray sparks or wayward ash to burn.

There is a great deal of magic at Milliways for him to draw upon and soon the party preparations meet with his satisfaction. He blesses the area before he goes back inside for some more rest before the party begins: that no one will be hurt in play or eat themselves sick, that not even a dancer's ankle be turned.

When he is done the morning fog is just beginning to burn off. It's going to be a beautiful day.

Comments

[treading_dawn]

Aslan blinks sleepy eyes at him. "My father is the king over the sea," he says quietly. "I am his son, and I have done what I was asked in his name."

[notsoyoung.livejournal.com]

He recognises the story, but not from fiction.

"I know."

[treading_dawn]

"If that makes me a God, then I am a God, so far as the word goes.

"But I do not like to apply it to myself. I am Aslan. That is all I need to be."

[notsoyoung.livejournal.com]

He smiles then.

"Aslan for now and ever more. Understandable, I suppose, to have labels attached that don't fit, or don't suit."

[treading_dawn]

"Yes. That is so." He yawns catlike, tongue curling in his great maw. "A name carries more power than a label."

[notsoyoung.livejournal.com]

"Jack has told me, more than once now, the same thing; his true name has been forgotten, and most of his power with it, I believe."

He sighs, and turns to sit beside Aslan, looking out over the party.

[treading_dawn]

"His people are mostly gone, their language forgotten, their ways lost. He chooses to forget his name rather than carry the pain of being a god without his people.

"So he goes by Jack, a plain name, an Everyman name, a name with no inherent power and little meaning. That is Jack's way. Rather than to disappear as many old gods do, he remade himself into what he feels he can best be.

"Someday he will get his name back. I do not know what will happen then. Great things, I would imagine."

[notsoyoung.livejournal.com]

He listens, as one can only listen to one who knows far more than David does. And when Aslan finishes speaking, all he can do, really, is nod.

"Perhaps life will return to the countryside, instead of the litter and dumps we put there?" he asks.

[treading_dawn]

"Perhaps. Perhaps we will see something entirely new."

[notsoyoung.livejournal.com]

He nods.

"Perhaps. More possibly than perhaps, though, because as I understand it, he's not so much for recycling himself as reinventing."

Kind of like David Bowie.

[treading_dawn]

Aslan laughs a lion-laugh.

He's a wise old cat in many ways.

[notsoyoung.livejournal.com]

He smiles then, watching the bonfire being lit, and, blatantly screwing with Millitime, notices Loki sitting alone, and runs his fingers through Aslan's mane again.

"My Loki's here, so I should join him. But I hope we'll speak again."

[treading_dawn]

"I am here," the Lion says placidly and returns to watching the party.