The Anointment Day, Part 2 | Fantasy Bard Music, Celtic Folk & Medieval Tavern Ballad (Lyrics Video)

Welcome Friend🍻🍻

Tonight, the tavern grows quiet for a tale of a forbidden rite, a borrowed cape, and a child who dared to dream of standing where the old law said he never could

Thanks for the story to @dennisluchesi🍻🍻
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Lyrics🎶🎶🎶

Morning found the folded clothes
Cold beside the chamber door
The borrowed cape was worn no more
Yet night had left its trace
Candle smoke and silver thread
Held the secret in the weave
And when his cousin’s brother came
The room grew cold and still

He raised the sleeves of formal white
The gloves, the cape, the cotton silk
Then pressed the cloth beneath his nose
With narrowed golden eyes
The boy stood frozen on the stair
Small as a candle in the rain
A plea would only sharpen blame
A lie would not survive

Silence settled on his tongue
Heavy as the bolted door
Two weeks of footsteps passing by
Two weeks of wanting more
He watched the daylight cross the wall
Thin as a dying flame
And wondered why his mother’s blood
Was twisted into shame

His father came without a knock
The room went colder than the stone
The boy obeyed with lowered eyes
And stood there still, alone
The cane came down like old decree
Held by a father’s hand
Not love, not law, but wounded pride
Too hard to understand

He hid his tears in folded sheets
And wrote by candle’s shaking light
A kinder hall, a gentler hand
A place where he had right
He saw himself beneath the oil
Beneath the elder’s grace
A child allowed to lift his head
And stand in his own place

They found the pages in his room
The ink still young, the hope still clear
His father crushed the dream aside
His cousins laughed for all to hear
They tore his clothes, they split the seams
As though cloth could kill a flame
But torn cloth cannot bury hope
Or make a wrong seem right

He slept until the evening fell
Then woke beneath the moon
The quiet house below him creaked
Like danger in a room
He dressed again in borrowed grace
Heart hammering in the night
Then crossed the floor without a word
And vanished out of sight

Three towns east through field and rain
Past wells and farms and sleeping stone
He walked toward the council road
Bruised, afraid, alone
For every child outside the hall
For every whispered blood
For every door that closed too fast
He crossed the dark and mud

By dawn he reached the eastern town
Where lawmen kept the gate
He told them what the house had done
With shaking hands held straight
They sent for kin from mother’s side
Who lived beyond that road
His aunt and uncle came for him
And took him from that home

The court was called at eastern hall
His father’s house stood blamed
For every bruise, for every lock
For every child they shamed
His aunt and uncle took his hand
And swore to keep him free
The elders gave him into their care
Where he was meant to be

He grieved the father he had known
And the father he had dreamed
One lived inside that bitter house
One only might have been
Then one elder, silver-furred
Came softly through the gray
And laid the folded garments down
As if giving back the day

Was it wrong to want the song
To kneel beneath the light
To dream of oil upon the brow
On that forbidden Saturday night

The elder answered, calm and clear
A child is worthy at their birth
A law can bruise a living soul
But cannot weigh its worth

He kept the clothes with steady hands
A banner made of thread
The fight goes on, the elder said
For every child ahead

Years moved slow, but voices rose
Like rivers cutting stone
Until the old decree was broken
And the barred were called their own
The doors were opened wide at last
The rite now gathered all the young
The candles burned for every child
And ancient hymns were sung

He wore his rightful clothes that dawn
Ivory, blue, and silver thread
Not stolen from another room
But made for him instead
He knelt before the elder’s hand
The oil shone bright, the hall grew still
The child who once had fled the night
Now knelt in morning light

The elder raised the sacred oil
The gathered voices did the same
And every candle bowed in gold
Around the rising flame
Then came the words he once had dreamed
When all had turned away

This day, this monument
Comes once in a young Cataleanin’s lifetime

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Видео The Anointment Day, Part 2 | Fantasy Bard Music, Celtic Folk & Medieval Tavern Ballad (Lyrics Video) канала Bards of Ethernia