Territories: Track 7 (3:47)
"The farmers' market was booming, the street-stalls were crowded, children were laughing at a Pinch and Jilly show (Jilly was currently chasing Pinch back and forth and bashing the poor old longsuffering fellow with her broom), and the Reaping Fair decorations were going forward at speed." Stephen King-Wizard and Glass
"All parties come Reaping Fair, aye, tons of em." Stephen King-Wizard and Glass
"I couldn’t resist the charms of 'The Reaping Fair'. Folklore motives, organically combined with the main theme, made me searching for a glass of graf, words for a toast or two in purpose of Reaping Fair, and a partner for country dancing!" - Dmitry Golomolzin, StephenKing.ru
Eight days. Eight days of walking the lonely, wind-swept beach. Eight days with nothing but the sounds of the gulls, the waves, and your own breath. When you began your trek along the shore, you spoke aloud, remembering songs and poetry from your school days. But, after a while, the desolation became too much. The songs and speech stopped, both seeming hollow and empty. The ocean did not want to hear them, nor did the gulls. All that was left was the crash of the surf and the call of the hungry seabirds.
As evening draws near on the eighth day, you see lights in the distance. As you hunker down for what hopefully will be your last night on this cold, desolate spit of sand, the sounds of music and laughter float to you on the wind. After a restless night, you awake and begin to walk towards the city.
When you arrive, you are a little disappointed. The city is nothing like Gilead. It is small, very modest. The main street through town is neatly swept, flanked by shops and vendors hawking their wares. Other streets branch off at right angles, each lined by trim cottages, immaculately kept. At the far end of town, a group of townspeople have gathered. As you approach the group, excited voices can be heard as the people crowd together, pushing against one another in an attempt to get to the front of the pack.
One of the locals spots you. "Look! Look," he whispers excitedly to his neighbor as he points in your direction. Soon, the crowd forgets the spectacle in front of them as they part and make a path for you. Your face feels flush but you don't want to be unappreciative, so you make your way to the front of the gathering.
You stand with the locals, watching as the town elders, clad in their ceremonial robes, solemnly make their way across the square to a long, wooden table laden with food and drink. As the town constable turns to the waiting crowd and raises his glass to toast the successful harvest, the celebration begins in earnest. You let out a loud cheer along with the others and, after weeks of traveling along the path of the Beam, you begin to relax, looking forward to a much-needed respite. You find it difficult to relax, however, as everywhere you go people stop, point, and whisper.
Artist Note: I really had fun with this song. Only instruments that could be found during the middle-ages were used for this piece. My goal was to create a lighthearted, joyus respite for the listener as a reward for having made it this far into the journey. Personally, I really needed this song and it's celebratory feel after being immersed in the melancholy of 'Western Sea' for such a long period of time.
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