Gray mists swirl about me and as they clear I find myself standing near a small campfire. The white stones of the fire ring reflect the light upward and the light snow crunches under my feet as I approach the flames. The full moon casts a surreal scene as it shines cross the glade. Around me the trees of the forest sit dressed in white and enfold me like a blanket. Across from me sits the dark hooded figure of a man, the faint outline of stag horns upon his hooded head. Near by a large white Stallion stands quietly tied to a tree. As I approach it knickers a greeting. I’ve been here before but it’s different somehow. I sit down in front of the fire to get warm and feel the heat on my hands as I hold them close to the flames. We both sit quietly for a while staring into the flames watching the different shapes that form as the fire consumes the log. Starring at the log I find my mind drifting as snow begins to gently fall around me. I hear the sizzle as the flakes come into contact with the hot stones around the fire ring. The hooded figure stands and turns toward the horse. “Come with me.” I stand and we walk side by side to the large white stallion. Clouds of steam rise as the horse’s breath puffs in the cold air. The hooded figure mounts and then holds out his hand. I grab on and swing effortlessly up behind him. He reins in the horse and with a light touch to its flanks we start down a narrow path to the north. As we travel along I notice other riders in dark hoods behind us as well as a pack of hounds with bright red ears, yet all are silent. We move quietly through the forest until we come to a large clearing.

Before us rises a large medieval style castle. Like something out of a fairy tale, the castle stands strong, and yet a feeling of hearth and home comes over me. Torches can be seen at the entrance to the drawbridge and light peeks out from the windows. As we get closer the riders and the hounds stop just inside of the forest. My guide and I move on. The hooves of the great stallion make a clacky clack sound as we cross the great wooden drawbridge and canter into the courtyard. A lone livery steps up as we dismount and taking the horse by the reins leads it away. We walk up the steps to the main entrance of the great hall and push open one of the mighty oak doors and slip inside. The immense hall stretches out before us with stone columns down either side. Pennants and tapestries decorate the walls and hang from the wooden rafters in the ceiling. Empty Tables stretch down the length of the hall on both sides. The hall has all the appearance of fine a celebration that has just ended. At the end of the hall rises a stone dais with two large stone chairs with a small stone altar between them.

In one of the chairs sits an older man with dark hair graying at the temples. Upon his head rests a laurel of holly leaves sprinkled with bright red berries. Dressed in forest green finery and past his prime he still shows the clean chiseled look of a warrior who has fought many battles but he also has the look of a man tired. Though still strong of body he sits as if bent with the weight of the world. We stop at the entrance and watch silently as a young maiden all in white appears from a door off the left side of the dais. As we watch the older man rises to embrace the young maid. They embrace each other gently. The man then kneels before the maiden reverently and kisses the hem of her dress.

A second door opens to the right side and a Young man enters. HE stands straight and tall with a proud bearing. Dressed in russet finery and wearing a laurel of russet and gold Oak leaves the young man walks over to the older man and assists him in standing. “Don’t worry Father, you’ve taught me well. I revere her as much as you and I pledge my life to Her service.” The young man kneels before the old man and waits.

The old man places his hands on the crown of the younger and Blesses him. He then assists the younger and taking the hand of the young man he places it in the hand of the young maid. “My duty is done. By your leave, Milady I must go.” The old Lord turns and slowly removes his crown of Holly and places it upon the stone altar.

For the first time he then turns toward us and with a strength belying his years strides towards us with a purposeful step. Walking up to my guide he smiles; “I’m ready.” We all turn and go back the way we came. In the courtyard stands the boy holding the white stallion and the other a russet. My guide and the lord take the reins and walk the horses toward the drawbridge. At the end of the bridge the Hooded man and the Lord mount. The Lord turns toward me and says, “Tell all what you’ve seen this night. The Maid is in good hands and honored by her new Lord.”

The two ride off toward the forest In the distance I hear the baying of the hounds and the charging of the other riders as the mists roll in about me.