Week# 40/ Username: Carthois/ Update # 2/

A lone moon hung in the desert sky; the stars too numerous to count swayed too and fro in the night sky. Truely this was a beautiful night. From his vantage point, he could see the small village, that he is currently residing at, calmly laying upon the embankment of a small lake. The stars and moon reflected on the waters edge, made large pastels of blue and white upon the city's bland architecture.

This was the stage that he had been searching for, a scene to compose his song.

Sitting atop his small dune of sand, the fiddler in blue and black attire, unwrapped a bundled parcel to reveal a small wooden case, wider than his hand yet just about the length of his forearm. Releasing the latches, he opened the case and pulled from it his fiddle and bow, and began his fine tunning. As he tested and pulled each cord, small humms of the fiddle resonated off of the surrounding dunes, doubtfully arousing any of the villager's rest below. After satisfying the needs of his instrument, he nestled the fiddle's edge to where it rested beneath his chinand began his composition.

His tune was amiable and soft, as the night did not call for such energetic screeches of the fiddles' strings. Slowly drifting his bow upward and down, the fiddler made his fiddle sing with a voice of a harmonic chorus, a song that turned this night of bleak lonesome into one of a lovers ballad. The beautful melody hummed back and forth throught night air, mounting to it's climax, where upon reaching it the choir of strings sprang forth an awe inspiring tune so magnificent, the stars themselves seemed to shine even brighter than before. But slowly did the song begin to drift away, and the fiddler idley recended his bow and thus ended his small concert.

He muttered to himself, 'Twas a good tune to end this auspicious night.'

As he repacked his fiddle and bow back into the wooden case, a soft wind blew his direction, to which he heard a small whisper of a distant lay. The fiddler froze in his step and turned to the direction of the song which laid far into the plain of the desert. As he listened, he hurriedly grabbed his fiddle case and began trekking to the mysterious and alluring lyric. Passing and stridding across rather large sand dunes, the fiddler began to hear the melody more clearly and as he got closer, he also realized it was making a profound effect on him. It's tone was soft and sweet without any coming tension, much less a mounting climax to the performance. It was very beautiful work.

As he reached the arc of a large dune, he stopped to see below him was a shadowy silhouette sat infront of a small smouldering fire and a low hung tent. Under the usual night haze, he wouldn't have been able to clearly see their figure, however thanks to the fire he was able to vaguely define the stranger that he saw. The stranger was a woman, cloaked in what looked like a large feathered tunic, while the bottom portion of her was covered by a modest blanket. As for the melody, the source was from an ornate sitar in her lap. Almost as soon as he arrived, her melody began to slowly die down; becoming faint and lower than before. As it began to disappear, the song took on the guise of a sorrowful and lonely atmosphere. The sadness of her song began to stir the heart of the young fiddler, for he could see as she was now playing out of the anguish of her own heart.

Seizing his opportunity, the fiddler brought out his fiddle and bow once more and began his song.

Slowly pulling his bow, he waled towards her and began where she had left off, before her spiral into sorrow. Frightened by the sudden appearence of another, the woman suddenly stopped her playing, making the fiddler the only one to play.

'Its not as lovely when it is just one playing,' he spoke aloud, stopping his play. 'Please, do continue with me.'

The woman shifted, not moving from her seated position, and spoke, "Why are you away from the village this late at night, good sir. There are many dangerous things out here in the desert.'

The fiddler replied, 'If it twas so dangerous why are you out here in nothing but a modest fire and tent?'

Again the woman shifted. He continued. 'If you must know why I had come this far out into the desert, it is because of a great and sweet melody I heard not too long ago.' He looked teasingly at the woman, 'Were you the one who had played such melody? I wouldn't speculate, for what i heard from you was a sad and meloncolic tune.'

Upon hearing these words, the woman began to become visibly nervous.'I...I..'

The fiddler folded his fiddle and bow back into its case, and gestured to the fire, 'May I?'

'Oh...of course, please sit.' she piped.

Just as the fiddler sat, he instantly jumped back up again, for as he got close to the fire he could finally see her complete figure. The tunic was not a tunic at all, but large autumn gold wings with sheer black claws from which she held her sitar. With what little clothing she had on, she wore a fine golden chain neck peice, and a tight fit brassier, with purple accents that were painted across the well-endowed breast. This was the beautiful form of a Gandharva.

As the fiddler grasped all of this, he realized that his reaction made her expression become bashful and ashamed. The fiddler, quickly got sown on his knees and blurted, "I am deeply sorry for that, I do not want to offend you. The night is quite bleak and it wasn't until this moment that I saw that you are a Gandharva. Please, accept my sincerest apologies.'

Taken aback by the fiddler's sudden prostration, she blushed rapidly. 'No, please do get up! It is alright, I am not offended at all. Please sit up.'

With that the fiddler resummed his seat, opposite of her. After a few moments of delicate silence the fiddler said,'My name is Nathaniel, and i am humbly glad to make your aquaintance.'

'My name is Aria, and I am also glad to meet you.'

Another deafening silence.

Then, abruptly, Aria spoke. 'Yes, I was the reason for the song that you heard, but as for my sorrow... its best not to speak of it.'

'Now I am but a simple stranger, but,' the fiddler said, 'I wouldn't dare to not help a person in need of it. Truely, your songs a by far the greatest I have ever heard, and that speaks to your nature as a Gandharva. But as to your sadness, it will never go away, it will never be aleaviated, unless you speak aloud what is that haunts you.'

Suddenly, she broke down and cried out, 'My heart hurts! It hurts so much that I feel it will burst!' She began to weep.

This brought the fiddler to utter baffling, for this is totally unlike that of a Gandharva, who are known for their cheerful and composed nature.

She continued to cry, 'The man that I yearn for, he wouldn't ever accept me. I cannot play my songs to him, for fear that I may bewitch him into loving me, even though he truely never made the choice to love me on his own. He is but a paltry musician, who is without much money or food, but I still love him. And I fear that he will hate me for what I am and not accept me.'

As she continued to cry, the fiddler, moved by her distraught emotions, rushed to her side and hugged her. 'There, there,' he said as he patted her head. 'It is ok. Who ever this man is, if he is as you fear then that is the worst it could possibly be for you. But you will never find out the truth if you do not approach him and confess your feelings. By that alone, the man should have the decency to try understand you and your feelings. In the end, Aria, you will not have closure until you try.'

'Are you sure?'

He smiled at her, 'Yes I am sure.'

Gently she pushed him away. 'In ...that case...' her face begin to get even redder than from whence she was crying. ' are the man...the man that I love.'

With this the fiddler's heart swelled, as he was at a loss for words. She continued, 'I have followed you on your travels since coming into the desert and heard you play at night...and...and...'

Without hesitation, the fiddler grabbed her by the shoulders and brought her lips to his. And they kissed. A passionate and loving kiss if there had ever been one. The Gandharva suddenly pulled back as tears began streaming down her face yet again.

'What a fool I would be if I didnt accept you,' said the fiddler as he still held her. 'For you to have followed me through out my travels and I to have never notice you until now makes me curse myself for never having found you in the first place.'

He pulls her in for another kiss, their tongues wrapped together as they kiss. She pulls back once more. 'Do you really accept me...? I don't want you to feel forced into-'. He plunged once more his lips into hers and kissed her even more intimately.

'Does that answer your question?' he said.

As the night wore on, it was no longer cold and bleak, for now the fiddler and his new love, were warmed by the passion of each others bodies, and the songs of each others hearts. As they made love to one another upon the desert floor, from this moment on they both knew they would never experience another lonely night.