THE GHOST OF BALADIN FLIES …
Originally written and posted ~ 06.04.2012 – Re-posted 10th January, 2020 as part of an Edenbray Retrospective
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The Ghost of Baladin Flies …
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… They say the ghost of Bal-a-din flies over the moors of Mull since the days they laid his bones to rest!
That he has appeared in the jagged rush of a snow leopard in the wasteland of Siberia’s northern hills …
They have heard his cry in the moan of an ice whale who remembered his silhouette against the flickering northern lights …
… and a white bear, they say, was heard to sing the tune to Baladin’s Song by two starving hunters one evening in the west of Alaska …
Yet the strangest tale concerns a blue marlin that a fisherman heard laugh like the great man when breaking his line and escaping off the Florida keys …
… and at least once he brought terror to sailors who say they saw Baladin’s smile in the face of a wandering albatross … but at least I do know the truth of DemBala, the wolf master ….
He died a happy old man in his sleep after supper with three younger women by his bed side and a warm log fire crackling in the hearth for this is indeed Ba-La-Din.
He had made his peace with the Almighty a long time previous and now travels the universe at the Master’s bidding often stopping to gaze at the cerulean and the viridian of the earth so far below
… awaiting the meek’s inheritance …
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writtenbyedenbray06.04.2012
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… and the meek shall inherit the earth …
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… ‘a white tailed sea-eagle flies over the Island of Mull’ …
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… He had made his peace with the Almighty a long time previous and now travels the universe at the Master’s bidding often stopping to gaze at the cerulean and the viridian of the earth so far below …
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Baladin – goodnight!
Baladin take your rest ~ the storyteller has earned this beaker of the Barleycorn for tonight he meets the reaper and they exchange their wizard’s craft – The collateral of the wise and none ere’ walked wiser than DemBala the Wolfmaster sleeping now with a pack of wolves laid around his feet and the dreamers pipes embers glistening faintly in the breeze of the palest moonlight for this last time as a herd of caribou graze peacefully tonight where Baladin has been laid. A life more ordinary might have had more that is morose but my soundest friend it has been my pleasure to know thee and write the hint of Baladin’s full Tales – a much welcome Memoir that I will always treasure. ~
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