Lord of the Dance Fanfic

The story of the Lord of the Dance

Chapter 1. A flute in the woods

There was a time when the man's belief in magic was almost ridiculous. Women accused of having practiced witchcraft were burned at the stake. Outcasts, such as Gypsies, homosexuals and street performers, were persecuted and killed. The threats had deterred many street performers from continuing their performances, but still there were those who didn't let themselves be discouraged. Young Aidan was among those brave. The little boy was a brilliant entertainer with his jester tricks. But the more brilliant was his dancing. He had an elegance that amazed the king himself (he, however, never let this to be acknowledging by public), a speed that could make a bunny jealous and a skill that surpassed the adult dancers in his troupe.

"He has feet of flames," his mother often said proudly to those who asked."I know, someday he'll be something great. I can feel it in my bones"

The poor woman didn't know how right she was. It was a beautiful day , and young Aidan got stock in a game that took place between two salmon in the stream near his troupe's camp and didn't returned home until sunset. When he came back, the poor boy found his home destroyed. The large camp fire was extinguished and around it laid the bodies of men, women and children. In the tent where he lived was the tent cloth dyed red with blood. It was easy to see where his parents had been standing when the fatal blow had fallen. Their bodies lay beneath the wall: his father had been beheaded; his mother had been hit straight in the chest. In horror young Aidan ran away without looking back even once, terrified that someone would follow.

Long time had passed before he finally stopped in the middle of the woods. He was tired, but was too terrified to venture to fall asleep. The grief that had been hampered by fear came up with him, and he gave into tears. The scene of his dead parents were constantly before his eyes, whether they were closed or not. Who could be so cruel that he killed so many people, especially his parents who never did anyone any harm while they were alive? WHY? For what reason he had been fascinated by fish and been spared to share the same fate? The young boy had never allowed himself to cry, not since he was five, but now he was crying. Even when the tears seemed to have run out, he wept. The sorrow of his lost had no end. The troop had been his world and his parents a safe haven from the other boys who had loved to tease him. All that was left of them were empty shells, bathing in their owner's blood.

Suddenly he felt something hard and elongated in the pocket of his trousers, and from it he pulled out a small flute. It was painted white and sparkled in the faint moonlight, like it was made of diamonds rather than wood. Four words, or perhaps an entire sentence, were inscribed on the side of the tube. He couldn't decipher the words, and even if he had canned, it was clear to that it wasn't Celtic. Then something strange happened. The inscribed words began, right before his eyes, to change. The word EARTH suddenly appeared. Aidan blinked for a few seconds, not believing what he just had been seen, and then looked again. The word WIND was now formed, closely followed by FIRE and then finally the word WATER.

A sudden movement behind him caught his eye, but no longer he felt fear. If the gods had chosen him to survive, run away like a coward would be to reject them, and the cost of his hurting pride would be too bitter to swallow. With an imperceptible movement , the little instrument slipped back into his pocket, and after a quick silent prayer, he turned around- ready to fight, or be killed, whatever it may be.

Instead, he stood face to face with a small, golden creature.

"Why do you cry, young man?"Asked the little creature while she or he, looked at him with a look of astonishment. Aidan weren't prepared for that, in amazement he took a step backwards, but tripped over his own feet and fell headlong to the ground.