Interlude 25: The Ballad of Alpin – Part I
An Orlesian Ballade
The third son of Count Catigern,
Alpin was neither proud nor stern
and went against his noble roots,
studying artistic pursuits.
His parents begged him to recant,
and then choose to take up the Chant.
With Kavan inheriting land,
and Piran served the Emperor's hand,
they saw it as right and meet
that Alpin should serve Andraste's feet,
working toward the Chantry's greater aim:
to lead all Thedas to do the same.
In order that he might appease,
crafting from stone religious frieze
to support the Chantry's front nave
and Andraste's likeness to engrave.
Alpin chose to live apart
and serve the Maker through his art.
With each sculpture roughly hewn
his studio with debris was strewn.
Imitating limbs both strong and lithe
made Alpin feel both proud and blithe.
His art was most in demand
and was said to rival even the Maker's hand.
Then one day an elderly man came
giving neither origin nor name.
Boasting to his unknown guest,
Alpin claimed to be the best.
The elder man informed his young host,
that he should be careful not to boast
for he himself was a sculptor too
and might teach Alpin something new.
The young man laughed in his hubris
but the old man would not be dismissed.
The old sculptor challenged Alpin
and decided the following day they would begin.
The next morning when the sun rose
the men began sculpting the rock they chose.
They carefully planned each strike
and their sculptures were far from alike.
A block of malachite of deepest green
almost glowed with a rich sheen
beneath the young man's steady palms,
taking shape without qualms.
The figure he wrought masculine
looked both powerful and sullen,
glaring eyes and jaw stern set,
enough to make a viewer fret.
"I do not mean to dissemble,
but what is that supposed to resemble?"
The old man queried while he worked
and then Alpin openly smirked.
"This is how the Maker would be
if He were to reveal himself to me.
He is all strength and unfathomable power."
The old man asked, "You think He only knows to glower?"
"How else would he be when faced with man's sin?"
Alpin asserted, "Man is all corruption within.
We deserve to have all our world wiped clean.
The human creation was sculpted rude and mean."
The hands of the young man would fly,
over muscle and sinew, nose and eye,
almost careless in their flight
as the day faded into night.
The elder sculptor chose alabaster
and he seemed to avoid working faster,
lovingly crafting every detail
moving as though he would fail.
The rough became smooth in shape,
forming a lady from feet to nape.
The old man tarried over her nose and eyes
focusing on her face from sunset to sunrise.
On the second day there was a face
peering at the world with gentle grace.
On the lips the lady had a shy smile
appearing free from all guile.
When the young sculptor took pause
the sight nearly unhinged his jaws.
The lady stood in line with the morning light
and would have brought any delight.
The old man laid aside his chisel and hammer
just as the young man began to stammer,
"She is lovely and you have defeated my art,
I cannot continue, I have no heart."
"While my work is completely perfect in form,
it lacks that which makes your piece nearly warm
with life and breath. She is so sublime.
Forgive me, master sculptor, I have wasted your time."
"It was not waste," the old man said with grin,
"This was not about a loss or a win.
Your work lacks though your talent is rife,
to make your work live, you must also have life."
"Violence was a part of this world
almost from the moment the land unfurled.
It does not mean there is not a better way,
kindness and mercy can also hold sway."
"The Maker was moved by a woman's song,
offering her divinity and a place to belong,
but she begged for her flawed kindred.
It was her mercy and not a crown on her head
that caused all men to kneel in awe,
despite their most obvious flaw
of valuing power above simple belief
that pleases the Maker, to be brief."
"Boy, you have cheated yourself of your share
since you will not allow yourself to care
for the frailties of the humans you despise.
You must finally open your eyes."
"I will leave this statue on which to meditate.
I must be gone, my time here is growing late.
Keep her safe until I should return
and be sure to share with me what you have learned."
With that the old man took his leave
and the young man found it hard to believe
that he had been gifted with such a prize
as he looked at the statue's downcast eyes.
The young man took the advice to heart
and from that day he had a new start
in showing kindness to his fellow men
learning how to accept and forgive them.
A year later his oldest brother had died
having no wife or child, only his pride.
Piran took his brother's gold and lands
while Alpin continued to work with his hands.
Alpin's parents came to him to appeal
to their son to take a wife, but he revealed,
"Dear mother, dear father, I have not the time,
between service to the Maker and mankind."
"It would not be fair to take a wife,
if I could not provide for her needs in life.
I pursue my art to give the Maker praise
and to that I dedicate all of my days."
One day his mother made a final plea
that he should marry as was his duty.
"Since you have been so diligent,"
the young man chuckled, "I will relent."
In a moment of harmless jest,
he wrapped arms around a statue's chest,
"This lovely lady shall be my bride
and I will ever keep her at my side."
It was the statue sculpted by the old man
and he gallantly kissed its hand.
The day was waning and through the door
the sunset blazed across the floor
draping the lady statue with light,
with his words it seemed to sheen bright.
Suddenly the statue blinked with green eyes
that had once been blank white in guise.
She turned her head so that she was facing
the man who was tenderly embracing
her within his arms. On his shoulder
she laid her head, while he continued to hold her.
The lovely statue had been imbued with life,
both beautiful and good, a proper wife.
His mother was frightened and could not speak
as her eyes widened and her knees grew weak.
The sculptor was not distressed
as he clasped his new bride to his chest,
"It is a miracle the Maker has wrought
providing me with the bride I had not sought."
In the face of the sculptor's enthusiasm
his mother found herself in a vast chasm
of confusion with which she could not escape
and could only manage to gape.
The poor woman returned to her husband
hoping that he would understand
and discover a way to dissuade their son,
for such a match should not be done.
They enlisted the aid of Reverend Mother Clotild,
who was wise and incredibly strong willed.
She would go and interview the girl
and decide if from the Fade she had been hurled.
Mother Clotild carefully decided
to interview this girl the Maker provided.
She would determine if this girl was sound
or if to a demon she was bound.