| Lammas is named in honor of the filk song, Lammas Night. It's the story of a young magic user, who takes a position as the town wizard, in a town when the wizard had died mysteriously. But the wizard is haunting his former residence, and the young mage must decide how to handle the situation. This song inspired an entire book of stories, In Celebration of Lammas Night, where various authors give their take on this tale. |
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A waning moon conceals her face Behind a scudding wind-torn cloud. She wraps herself in its embrace As in a tattered cloak. The wind is wailing in the trees. Their limbs are warped and bent and bowed. I stand within my circle now To deal with what I woke. |
a wind-torn shroud a shadow cloak so bleak and cowed I wake--I see but not yet free |
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A wanderer of wizard kind I was, until a month ago The headman of this village came And begged that I should stay. "For since our wizard died," he said "And why he died we do not know-- We have no one to weave us spells And keep the Dark at bay" |
so well I know so cold and fey so long ago! the dark, so deep: so cold the sleep |
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"His house and books are yours, milady, If you choose but to remain." His offer was too tempting To be lightly set aside I'd wearied of my travel, being Plaything of the sun and rain-- This was the chance I'd hoped for-- And I said that I would bide. |
remembered pain remembered pride choose to remain-- I hope--I pray--and you must stay |
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Perhaps if I had been a man, And not a maid, perhaps if I Had been less lonely, less alone, Or less of magic folk-- Whatever weakness was in me, Or for whatever reason why Something slept within that house That my own presence woke. |
the spell-bound broke my reason why You dream so much--I try to touch |
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A half-seen shadow courted me, Stirred close at hand or by my side. It left a lover's token--one Fresh blossom on my plate. I woke to danger--knew the young Magician still to earth was tied-- And tied to me--and I must act. Or I might share his fate. |
to bid you bide a fragrant bait for freedom cried I need your aid, be not afraid |
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I found a spell for banishment-- The page then turned--and not by me! The next spell differed by one word, A few strokes of a pen. The first one I had seen before, The spell to set a spirit free; The second let the mage-born dead Take flesh and live again! |
look now and see and read again so I will be one spell and then I live again |
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Now both these spells were equal In their risk to body and to soul. And both these spells demanded They be cast on Lammas Night. And both these spells of spirit And of caster took an equal toll, But nowhere is it writ That either spell is of the Light |
I shall be whole the darkest night task to the soul to live and see to touch, to be |
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Can it be wise to risk the anger Of the gods in such a task? Yet who am I to judge of who Should live and who should die? Does love or duty call him? Is his kindness to me all a mask? And could I trust his answer If I dared to ask him "Why?" |
yet I must ask don't let me die-- take up the task give all your trust--my will you must |
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So now I stand within the circle I have drawn upon the floor-- I have no further answer if This spirit's friend or foe No god-sign has been granted me, Though I have prayed full often, nor Can I this moment answer if I'll tell him "Come" or "Go." |
the open door nor can you know |
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