Harry Potter and the Knight of Mann Chapter 26: Music be the Food of Love, a harry potter fanfic

Those first three weeks saw Harry literally throwing himself into his assignments and his training sessions with vigour. Not even his worst enemies could have found fault with him, because they could not find him easily anymore. Either in the library with his study group or in his classrooms as Harry the student, or out by the Lake training with Neville and the Manxmen as Harrison the black robe, Harry had not time for Quidditch again (to Ron's never-ending ire) or other games.

However, he was not above having fun. On 21 September, as Airmed asked him, he slunk through the deserted halls of Hogwarts dressed in his best tunic and trousers. Tonight, Neville had told him, was going to be a celebration of the ages. It was a Manx tradition to throw a massive party, or a ceili, the night before a planned engagement. It raised morale for the soldiers and the knights, as well as their families. It allowed them to remember their families happy and whole in case they might die the next day in the service of their country.

Harry had wanted to make a quiet entrance, just to walk in and sit down, but that did not happen. "Harrison Griffinswing, the newest black robe!" Conn Elderson came up to him and greeted him as an equal: embracing him as a man and passing him a goblet full with a golden liquid. "Slainte!"

The liquor was honey and spices, and it slid down so smoothly down his throat, that Harry did not realize that he had drained the goblet in a few swallows.

"Now that you are here, we can begin!" Conn clapped his hands. "Strike up the lutes and bodhrans! Gather the pipes and drums!"

A melody of drums and strings filled the hall, slowly growing louder and louder until King Nuada lifted his arms and voice and let a glorious song fill the hall. His wife soon joined in with him, and they led the first dance of the night, smiles emblazoned on their faces.

Thank you, Gods, for a new day dawning,
Over our mountains and valleys of green!
Thank you, Gods, for a new day dawning,
And shining your lights from above!

Thank you, Gods, for a new day dawning,
Over our mountains and valleys of green!
Thank you, Gods, for a new day dawning,
And shining your lights from above,
All over this land that we love!

Mann is our home; this is where we belong.
Here between mountain and sea…
Here is our future, and here is our past.
And here we are destined to be!

Mann is our home; this is where we belong.
These are our fields and our farms…
The gods gave us protection, and gave us the heart,
And gave us the strength in our arms!

Thank you, Gods, for a new day dawning,
Over our mountains and valleys of green!
Thank you, Gods, for a new day dawning,
And shining your lights from above,
All over this land that we love!

Mann is our home; this is where we belong,
And where we intend to return.
We'll drive the Darkness away from our land,
Again and again, and again and again and again…
Thank you, Gods, for a new day dawning,
Over our mountains and valleys of green!

Thank you, Gods, for a new day dawning,
And shining your lights from above!
Thank you, Gods, for a new day dawning,
Over our mountains and valleys of green!
Thank you, Gods, for a new day dawning,
And shining your lights from above,
All over this land that we love!

The applause was uproarious, but it was brief. Quickly, a cacophony of pipes filled the hall and many cheered at the sounds. Prince Fionn whooped and jumped up onto one of the tables. Raising his hands up in a way similar to his father, he led the second song. Men and woman went onto the floor, and began to dance and whirl.

Axes flash, broadsword swing,
Shining armour, piercing ring!
Horses run with polished shield,
Fight those bastards till they yield!
Midnight mare and blood red roan,
Fight to keep this land your own!
Sound the horn and call the cry,
"How many of them can we make die!"

Follow orders as you're told,
Make their yellow blood run cold!
Fight until you die or drop,
A force like ours is hard to stop!
Close your mind to stress and pain,
Fight 'til you're no longer sane!
Let not one damn cur pass by,
"How many of them can we make die!"

Guard your women and children well,
Send these bastards back to Hell!
We'll teach them the ways of war,
They won't come here any more!
Use your shield and use your head,
Fight 'til every one is dead!
Raise the flag up to the sky,
"How many of them can we make die!"

As the instruments got busy with an interlude in the middle of the song, Harry spotted Morwen among a group of women, laughing and cheering. No man was dancing with her, yet. Just then, the music picked up to finish the song.

Dawn has broke, the time has come,
Move your feet to a marching drum.
We'll win the war and pay the toll,
We'll fight as one in heart and soul.
Midnight mare and blood red roan,
Fight to keep this land your own!
Sound the horn and call the cry,

"How many of them can we make die!"
Axes flash, broadsword swing,
Shining armour, piercing ring!
Horses run with polished shield,
Fight those bastards till they yield!
Midnight mare and blood red roan,
Fight to keep this land your own!
Sound the horn and call the cry:
"How many of them can we make die!"

The hall erupted in raucous praises, and a woman took up the next song. The music, this time, was mostly based in the fiddles and lutes, and it changed the mood from lust for battle to having a good time among friends.

There's wood on the fire, and food on the table,
And blessings are heaped on our heads!
The sun has gone down, but he'll join us again
Before anyone goes to their beds!
Some say this world is a passing distraction
And real life comes after you're dead!
I say as long as there's plenty of mead,
Then this world is all that we need, we need,
Then this world is all that we need!

So let's drink to the sun, more faithful a lover
Than any we'll find in this world!
And let's drink to the honeybee, buzzing wee alchemist,
Spinning that love into gold!
Drink to the trees in our orchards that shower
Their dawn-coloured fruits on the grass!
Drink to the rainfall, and drink to our labour!
It all winds up in the glass, the glass,
It all winds up in the glass!

We're nearly done tuning our harps and our fiddles,
And then let the dancing begin!
The air is still warm, so let's open the doors
And let neighbours and travelers in!
Some say that life is resisting temptation,
And love is a lesson in sin…
I say that friendship and hearty red wine
Bring us all closer to the Divine, the Divine!
And this world will do us just fine!

And let's drink to the grapes in our vineyards,
And drink to the beast roasting over the fire!
And let's drink to the cycles of death and renewal,
And drink to the flames of desire!
Drink to the trees that we've planted ourselves
That drop bright-coloured fruits on the lawn,
Bursting with light that will run down the chins
Of our children long after we've gone, we've gone,
Long after we all have moved on!

Harry, by the middle of that song, had drunk another goblet of that wonderful honey brew. He found himself sitting on a bench and humming to the tune of that delightful song. After a piece of fiddles and flutes, Sir Firebird got up and sing. Niamh had an enchanting baritone voice as he sang the first of two songs honouring his fellow warriors.

My kinsmen and my brothers
My shield mates and my guides
May my arm always defend you
And your honor lift you high.