PLEASE read the disclaimers carefully.
Enjoy!!
Musical! The Musical
By
DarkWiccan
Disclaimers: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters associated with the show are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and their affiliates. If they belonged to me, none of the horrors of season six would ever have happened, and Willow and Tara would be on their honeymoon by now. But they don’t, so for now I borrow and kindly ask the big, scary corporate lawyer-guy to look the other way. Also, even though I don’t own W/T… I do own this story. Please don’t plagiarize.
Email: darkwiccan23@aol.com
Feedback: Yes, please. But I have a fire extinguisher to put out all flames
Distribution: Sure, just ask me
Spoilers: Um... Not really
Rating: PG-13 to R
Pairing: W/T
Summary: A fun piece of W/T musical fun in three acts, set in 1520-ish Ireland and, yes folks, there is actually music!!
Note: This story utilizes actual music to progress the plot! When you get to a musical number, simply click on the link and you’ll connect to a sound file of specially recorded music for this story!! If you don’t think your computer can handle it… you can always just read the lyrics instead (which are provided). Disclaimers associated with the music used are listed at the end of our little play. NOTE #2: THERE ARE NO LINKS TO THE MUSIC YET… THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS…I have been working on this since the winter of 2002 and I am still not finished…with the recording. The story is done. I have had to change singers a few times over the years… so it has slowed the recording process quite a lot. I hope to debut this story (with music) on my website in the near future.
WARNING!!!: If you have read my work before, then you know that I thrive on the writing of angst… the same goes for this piece. There is one scene of suggested sexual violence early on that is used as a motivating factor for one of the character’s decisions. I apologize if this makes you uncomfortable, but I guarantee it will be worth it in the end. MODS PLEASE NOTE: I have already had this story cleared for posting by xita.
Place and Time: Ireland around the year 1520 or so.
Settings: Ballylumford, IRE; The Woods; The Seaside; The Countryside; and Castleblaney, IRE
Final note: A “season” is three months of time.
Act One
We Begin…
Tara stepped out into the noonday sun after having sought refuge under a grove of trees for the majority of her walk into Ballylumford. She was dressed as she always was, in her gray peasant’s blouse and skirt, with a light blue cloth bodice to keep her shirt from billowing in the wind. Her hair was drawn up in a soft chignon and against her chest she clutched a small wicker basket, currently empty, which she was on her way to fill at market.
“Good morrow then, Missus Tara”, called Winifred O’Laney from her small fruit stand. “And how are you this fine day?”
“Well, thank you, Winnie”, Tara replied with an easy smile.
“And how is that husband of yours?” Winnie inquired.
“He fairs well, also.”
“Oh, that is not what I have heard”, the woman replied, a wicked glint in her eye.
“Why, what have you heard”, Tara asked, suddenly flushing slightly.
“That he is not happy in the home… in the bed”, Winnie responded, her voice low. “More importantly, that you have not been honoring your wifely duties. That he has not known the comfort of your bed for nearly six seasons now.”
“Such…things… ridiculous things you hear in that foolish gossip’s court you keep”, Tara said, defending her place. “Besides, you know I have not been well…”
“Pish-tosh”, the woman retorted, “The only thing that should keep you from your husband is if your belly were swollen up with his son. I am only looking out for you, child. If things continue as they have been… the town is not unaware, it will be disgrace and the stake for you.”
“I would ask that the town keep its nose out of my and my husband’s personal business”, Tara stated firmly.
“It is only because of Japheth, your husband, that you have survived this long.” Winnie bit out pointedly. “You are lucky that he loves you so… Enough to forgive you your past sins.”
“I have never done anything wrong in my life.”
“You worshipped the Devil.”
“Never! Simply because my mother was the wise woman of this town, that you all would suddenly find issue with her methods. She birthed nearly every child that is now a man in Ballylumford. She cared for the sick, and your son too, when he fell ill with the consumption. If not for her healing words, he would be dead. And yet, now that she is dead, you spit on her grave and her legacy. You spit on me!” Tara’s words flew from her mouth before she could stop them. Winifred could do nothing more than absorb the verbal assault. Finally after a long moment of silence, the older woman spoke again.
“I think it’s best you be getting your apples from Morgan. Your money is no good here.”
“I think I’ll be heading home now”, Tara replied softly, turning away and up the dirt road back to the mill.
Winifred watched her go, her gaze unforgivable and piercing.
Tara walked along through the tree-covered grove, thinking of all the opportunities she had lost, or had never been afforded at all. And how things would be so much better if only she knew why she was so incapable of fulfilling her wifely role. If only she hadn’t been born with an adventuring heart and with a need to know things that she didn’t understand and couldn’t even begin to describe. She allowed her mind to wander off into a daydream, letting her generally quiet and pure thoughts drift to other less beseeming possibilities.
“I shall marry the miller’s son
Pin my hat on a nice piece of property
Friday nights for a bit of fun
We’ll go dancing
“Meanwhile…
“It’s a wink and a wiggle and a giggle on the grass
And I’ll trip the light fandango
A pinch and a diddle in the middle of what passes by…
“It’s a very short road from the pinch and punch
To the paunch and the pouch and the pension
It’s a very short road to the ten thousandth lunch
And the belch and the grouch and the sigh
“In the meanwhile…
“There are mouths to be kissed before mouths to be fed
And a lot in between in the meanwhile
And a girl ought to celebrate what passes by…
“For I shall marry the business man
Five fat babies and lots of security
Friday nights if we think we can
We’ll go dancing
“Meanwhile…
“It’s a push and a tumble and a fumble in the sheets
And I’ll foot the highland fancy
A dip in the butter and a flutter with what meets my eye
“It’s a very short fetch from the push and the whoop
To the squint and the stoop and the mumble
It’s not much a of a stretch to the cribs and the croup
And the bosoms that droop and go dry
“In the meanwhile…
“There are mouths to be kissed before mouths to be fed
And there’s many a tryst and there’s many a bed
To be sampled and seen in the meanwhile
And a girl has to celebrate what passes by…
“Or I shall marry the Prince of Wales
Pearls and servants and dressing for festivals
Friday nights with him all in tails
We’ll have dancing
“Meanwhile…
“It’s a rip in the bustle and a rustle in the hay
And I’ll pitch the quick fantastic
With flings of confetti and my petticoats a way up high
“It’s a very short way from the fling that’s for fun
To the thigh pressing under the table
It’s a very short day till you’re stuck with just one
Or it has to be done on the sly
“In the meanwhile…
“There are mouths to be kissed before mouths to be fed
And there’s many a tryst and there’s many a bed
There’s a lot I’ll have missed but I’ll not have been dead
When I die
And a person should celebrate everything
Passing by…
“But I have married the Miller’s son.”
Tara blushed at her own boldness. Never had she thought such wild and unscrupulous thoughts before. Perhaps the long overdo respite from her duties as wife was starting to wear thin on her as well. It’s not that she did not care for Japheth, for she did greatly, as a sister may care for her brother. Having grown up with him side by she side, she could think of him as nothing else. And although she had succumbed to the pressures placed on a young woman during their honeymoon, she had not since let Japheth into her bed again. Here it was a year and a half later, and even the townspeople were starting to talk. But something, however indescribable, forced her to turn his advances away every time.
As she approached the mill she spied her husband hauling a fresh bundle of hay over toward the mill wheel. Japheth was not unattractive. Tara knew this, though his handsome physicality did nothing for her. She paused a moment to watch him work. His shoulder-length black hair was drawn up into a tail by a piece of cut leather. He had removed his shirt in the heat of the day, and his upper body gleamed with sweat, the sheen of it causing his defined musculature to glow in the sun. He was wearing his working pants, old brown knee breeches that he had worn full of tears and rips, and Tara sighed as she knew she would have to sew another set of patches as he had presently torn a new gash to his right pant-leg.
“So, I do make you sigh every once and a while”, Japheth grinned. “A man always knows when his woman is taken with him by the way she sighs as she gazes upon him.”
“You’ve torn your pants again”, Tara stated, “I’ll have to mend them.”
“Is that so”, Japheth replied, dropping his tone as he approached his wife. He placed his hands on the bowstring at the front of his pants. “Shall I give them to you now, then? Perhaps you’ll have them ready by dinner.”
“No!” Tara said, stopping him before he had the chance to drop trou. “I mean, don’t be silly. You’re still working. I’ll mend them Sunday, while you’re at church.”
“You won’t be going?”
“Not when I have pants to mend”, Tara smiled and turned to go up into their small cottage.
“Tara”, he called, following her up the small dirt path. “May I come to you tonight?”
“Oh, Japheth”, she answered apologetically, “I’ve… I’ve got a headache.”
“Still?”
“Yes”, Tara explained, “Perhaps if you let me look at my mother’s old herb recipes I’d be able to remedy it.”
“Tara”, Japheth said firmly, “I’ve told you, I won’t allow that witchcraft in my home. Your mother was a good woman, but she practiced the Devil’s art and I’ll have none of it.”
“Well, until I cure this headache…”
“You’ll what”, he interrupted, “Deny me my rights to you as a husband? What have I done, Tara? What have I done to cause you to despise me so? Have I not always given you everything you’ve asked? Have I not always claimed to love you? Do you not love me?”
“I care for you, Japhie”, Tara sighed, “I just… If I could only… Please let me at my mother’s books. If… if you give me her books, then…”
“I need to think about it”, Japheth answered, “But… later.” He turned and went back to his work.
Tara shook her head in frustration. Stepping inside the small cottage momentarily, she grabbed a small shawl before heading out into the woods. Since she had not been able to purchase food for dinner, she knew she would have to forage in the forest. Fortunately, their home was not far from the tree line on the coast, and she knew where several small groves of fruit trees were hidden nearby.
She clutched her wrap around herself, and trudged into the woods filled with frustration.
“Later…
When is later…
“All you ever hear is later, Tara
Tara, later.
“Yes we know, Tara
Oh, Tara
Everyone agrees, Tara
Please, Tara
“You have a thought your fairly bursting with
A personal discovery or problem and it’s
What’s your rush, Tara? Shush, Tara.
Goodness how you gush, Tara. Hush, Tara.
“You murmur, I only, it’s just that
For God’s Sake!
“Later, Tara.
“Tara, who is Tara?
Oh, the miller’s wife, the one who mumbles.
Short and boring.
Yes, she’s hardly worth ignoring and who cares if she’s all damned—
I beg your pardon—
Up inside?!
“As I’ve often stated
It’s intolerable, being tolerated
“Reassure, Tara
Poor Tara
Tara, you’ll endure being pure, Tara
“Though I’ve been born,
I’ve never been
“How can I wait around for later?
I’ll be ninety on my deathbed
And the late or rather later
Tara, Japheth’s wife…
“Doesn’t anything begin?”
Tara presently found a small orchard of pear trees, and set about to picking half-a-basket full. Her brain continued to fume with utter aggravation, and she even went so far as to curse to herself under her breath. Suddenly her mumbled thoughts were interrupted by the sound of music coming about a half a league east of where she was standing. She was able to make out the sounds of a concertina, pipe and bells and that they were headed in her direction. Tara paused from her work, and tentatively walked toward the melody. As she neared the tree line on the beach, she saw the source of the happy tune. A small band of gypsies was encamped at the edge of the woods, and they were laughing and dancing to their own music.
One of the gypsy women caught Tara’s attention, and she gazed at the young girl in curiosity. The girl had a tousled mess of fiery red hair on top of her head, and as she laughed and clapped to her brethren’s gleeful melodies, her pale skin seemed to glow under the implied heat of her hair. She’s not a gypsy, Tara thought. Feeling herself being stared at, the young woman lifted her gaze and caught Tara by the eye. Tara blushed and quickly stepped to hide behind a tree, embarrassed. But the young maid was already up and approaching the miller’s wife’s hiding place.
“I see you there”, said the redhead, playfully. “Come on out. Nothing to be afraid of. I’m not the kind that bites.”
“I didn’t think you were”, replied Tara, emerging.
“I saw you watching us”, the maid continued, “What is it you find so interesting?”
“You”, Tara replied honestly.
“Me”, said the girl, smiling openly. “Why?”
“Well, you’re obviously not one of them”, the blonde stated. “You are not of a dark complexion as gypsies so often are. You are fair-skinned and light of hair. I couldn’t help but wonder why you were with them.”
“They are my family”, the girl answered simply.
“Not by birth”, Tara stated.
“No.”
“By marriage, then?” She asked, though finding it unlikely.
“Certainly not”, the gypsy girl declared. “The day I marry one of them is the day I die.”
“A gypsy?”
“A man.”
“Oh”, said Tara, still confused. “But, still you have not answered my question. How you came to be with the gypsies.”
“They took me in after I ran away.”
“From?”
“Everything.” The redhead clarified, “From my mother, my father, my fiancée… my life.”
“You were engaged?”
“Yes. To the butcher’s son. An ugly brute of a man who was no better than the pigs his father raised for slaughter”, the girl said, shuddering at the memory. “Well, I knew that was simply not the life for me. So I ran away.”
“What kind of woman are you that you would so freely abandon your responsibilities”, Tara asked, mystified.
The red-haired gypsy simply smiled a coy little smile and explained:
“I’m your average ordinary kind of woman
Competent and neat, making a life a treat
Others as nice you meet often I know
At least once or twice every decade or so
“I’m your everyday customary kind of woman
Practical as salt, modest to a fault
Conservative with a budget, liberal with a meal
Just your average ideal
“My telling you this may seem sudden and strange
It may not interest you much at all right now
But things change… things change
“Still I’ll understand if I’m not your kind of woman
Anyone can make one terrible mistake
And I’ve no special glamour, no bait I can twirl
For I’m just a plain, everyday, commonplace,
Come what may, average, ordinary
“Wonderful Girl!”
“You see”, the redhead said, finishing, “I’m really nothing special.”
“Oh but you are”, Tara replied before she could stop herself.
The gypsy girl smiled, her eyes twinkling wickedly, “What’s your name, Princess?”
“I am no Princess”, Tara blushed.
“What’s your name anyway?”
“Tara.”
“Well, Princess Tara, it is an honor to meet you”, the girl said, bowing slightly.
“And who are you?” The blonde inquired.
“Willow”, she answered simply.
“That’s pretty.”
Again Willow smiled, and Tara flushed under the enchanting woman’s gaze. She looks at me as though she could see through me, she thought to herself.
“So, Princess”, Willow continued, “Is this your kingdom?”
Tara laughed and sighed at the same time, “I’m not a Princess.”
“What are you, then?”
“The miller’s wife”, Tara clarified, thinking her frustration with her situation was only slightly evident.
Willow’s face fell slightly. “You aren’t happy.” It was a statement and not a question.
“I didn’t say that”, Tara answered almost briskly, in surprise at so easily being found out.
“Not with your words”, the gypsy explained, “But with your eyes… You feel you don’t belong here, you feel you don’t fit in.”
“How can you see all that?”
“Because I felt the same way once too”, Willow replied, taking a step toward the blonde. “Not knowing why… just knowing that somehow I was meant for different things. Meant to be with different people.” Another step. The women were now less than a breath from one another, but for some reason Tara could not find it in her to move. Something compelled her to stand her ground. Willow looked deep into Tara’s eyes and dipped her head, leaning in.
“What are you doing”, Tara asked suddenly, snapping out of her reverie.
“I’m going to kiss you”, the redhead stated matter-of-factly.
“Why?” Tara was now starting to panic a little.
“Because I want to”, Willow answered. “Don’t you want me to?”
“No…ye…no…I mean… I don’t…a woman does not kiss another woman as she would her husband”, Tara blurted, trying to bring herself out of her flustered state.
Willow stood back up. “Who told you that?” She asked.
“It’s not something you are told”, Tara tried to explain, “It’s something that you know.” Willow appeared perplexed. “At least in Ballylumford.” Tara added.
“I am not from Ballylumford”, the gypsy smiled.
“Where are you from?”
“Everywhere.” Willow stated. She paused a moment before continuing. “Come with me. Us. The gypsies. Let me take you away from this small place. Show you bigger and better things. Things you were meant to see and do.”
“I cannot do that”, the blonde replied. “I hardly know you. I have a husband and… a mill.”
Willow leaned in again, “They do not have you.” This time she completed her motion, and kissed Tara softly on the lips. At first Tara did not respond, but quickly she found her lips were working against her mind as she shared the soft connection with the other woman. Slowly, Willow pulled away and smiled again. Smiling must be her favorite language, Tara thought to herself, unable to prevent herself from smiling in return. She had felt something in that small kiss, something powerful and indescribably wonderful.
“Come with me”, Willow entreated again.
“I cannot”, Tara sighed.
“You deserve to be free. A caged bird cannot sing. Think of all the things I can show you”, Willow said, taking Tara by the hands and pulling her onto the beach.
“I can show you the world
Shining, shimmering, splendid
Tell me, Princess, now when did
You last let your heart decide?
“I can open your eyes
Take you wonder by wonder
Over, sideways and under
On a magic carpet ride”
Willow waved her hand in the air and a stream of golden sparkles filled the space in front of them, trailing her fingertips. Tara gasped in amazement, stepping into the glistering waterfall and finding herself lifted into the air with Willow at her side.
“A whole new world
A new fantastic point of view
No one to tell us no
Or where to go
Or say we're only dreaming”
Tara, “A whole new world
A dazzling place I never knew
But when I'm way up here
It's crystal clear [that]”
Both, “Now I'm in a whole new world with you”
They continued to soar through the air over the beach, dancing through the clouds.
Tara, “Unbelievable sights
Indescribable feeling
Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling
Through an endless diamond sky
A whole new world”
Willow, “Don't you dare close your eyes”
Tara, “A hundred thousand things to see”
Willow, “Hold your breath - it gets better”
Tara, “I'm like a shooting star
I've come so far
I can't go back to where I used to be”
Willow, “A whole new world”
Tara, “Every turn a surprise”
Willow, “With new horizons to pursue”
Tara, “Every moment red-letter”
Both, “I'll chase them anywhere
There's time to spare
Let me share this whole new world with you
“A whole new world
That's where we'll be
A thrilling chase
A wondrous place
For you and me.”
The two women lightly touched down on the sand earth, breathless. So thrilled with the experience, Tara impetuously leaned over to kiss Willow on the cheek. The gypsy turned her head in time to catch the blonde by the lips, drawing her closer. Tara couldn’t help but respond to the attention and leaned into the embrace. Suddenly a sharp whistle pervaded the air, startling the girls apart from each other. Willow and Tara looked in the direction of the sound and saw one of the gypsy men whistling through his teeth and waving in Willow’s direction signaling her home.
“I must go”, Willow quickly explained.
“What? Why?” Tara asked, confused.
“They’re calling me”, Willow replied, “We must be breaking camp. Moving on.”
“Oh.”
“We’ll be leaving tonight when the moon is high”, the redhead went on, “Meet me here, on the beach.”
“I cannot”, Tara apologized, her heart breaking.
“Do what you must. But I will always remember you, Princess Tara.” Willow smiled again, kissing Tara’s palm before running off in the direction of the camp. Tara stood dumbfounded a moment before returning to the edge of the woods, pausing to collect herself.
“What was that?
“Was that me?
Was that her?
Did a girl really kiss me?
And kiss me?
And kiss me?
And did I kiss her back?
“Was it wrong?
Am I mad?
Is that all?
Does she miss me?
Was she suddenly getting bored with me?
“Wake up! Stop dreaming.
Stop prancing about the woods.
It’s not beseeming.
What is it about these woods?
“Back to life, back to sense,
Back to work, back to husband,
You can’t live in the woods.
There are vows, there are ties,
There are needs, there are standards,
There are shouldn’ts and shoulds.
“Why not both instead?
There’s the answer if your clever.
Have a husband for warmth,
Who’s a miller for bread,
And girl for… whatever—
“Never!
It’s these woods.
“Face the facts, face the truth
It is wrong, and you know it.
Just get out of these woods.
Was that her? Yes it was.
Was that me? No it wasn’t.
Just a trick of the woods.
“Just a moment.
One peculiar passing moment.
“Must it all be either less or more,
Either plain or grand?
Is it always ‘or’?
Is it never ‘and’?
That’s what woods are for:
For those moments in the woods.
“Oh, if life were made of moments,
Even now and then a bad one--!
But if life were only moments,
Then you’d never know you had one.
“How I felt that I wished
For that girl, in that moment—
Who can live in the woods?
And to get what you wish,
Only just for a moment—
These are dangerous woods…
“Let the moment go…
Don’t forget it for a moment though.
Just remembering you’ve had an ‘and,’
When you’re back to ‘or,’
Makes the ‘or’ mean more
Than it did before.
Now I understand—
And it’s time to leave the woods.”
Tara nodded to herself resolutely as she quickly gathered up her small basket of pears and started back in the direction of the mill. She had made a decision. She would give Japheth his son. She would be a good wife and mother. And she would cherish this peculiar moment for the rest of her life as the one moment when she had been truly happy.
As Tara made her way down the small dirt path back to the mill house, she did not notice the piercing black gaze of Japheth as he stepped out from behind the large tree where he had been hiding, and watching everything unfold.
His brow furrowed and his jaw clenched with jealousy and confusion. Surely, he had not truly seen what he thought he had saw. He began to ponder his musings out loud to the world.
“She wouldn’t, therefore they didn’t.
So then it wasn’t.
Not unless it…would she?
“She doesn’t… God knows she needn’t.
Therefore it’s not.
“She’d never, therefore they haven’t
Which makes the question absolutely…
Could she?
“She daren’t, therefore I mustn’t
What utter rot.
“Fidelity is more than mere display
It’s what a man expects from life.
Fidelity I pledged my wedding day
To Tara my devoted wife.
“That headache, that goddamned headache
For months and months she’s had that silly headache.
This perhaps explains the ‘headache’ she’s had so long
“What nonsense! She’s had a headache
And I’ve been keeping her from Mama’s herb book
“I’ll kill her!
“Why should I bother? The woman’s mine.
“Besides no matter what one might infer
One must have faith to some degree
The least that I can do is trust in her
The way that Tara trusts in me”
Japheth nodded to himself in confidence and began to make his way back to the mill. He was calmer now and found his breathing to be easier, the roaring heat of his anger momentarily quelled.
“Capable, pliable women… women
Undemanding and reliable, knowing their place
Insufferable, yes, but gentle
Their weaknesses are incidental
A functional but ornamental… race
“Durable, sensible women… women
Very nearly indispensable creatures of grace
God knows the foolishness about them
But if one had to live without them
The world would surely be a poorer, if purer, place.”
As he reached the small dirt path up to the front door of his and Tara’s small cottage, he felt a wave of rage re-assert itself. His muscles rippled under sudden tension and his eyes grew an even darker black. His face became red as he began to brood over the possibilities of what he had seen.
“That headache, that stupid headache!
How can you have a seven month long headache?
“She’s lying, she must be lying!
But I’d have known before if she was lying…
“She wouldn’t.
Therefore they didn’t.
The woman’s mine!”
Japheth burst through the front door and into the cottage, startling Tara who was by the fire preparing dinner. His mind was ablaze with the fury of jealousy and betrayal. A deep growling voice in the back of his head suddenly made him aware of what he must do. He began to stalk toward Tara menacingly.
“Japheth!” Tara had screamed when her husband had burst into the small home. She had been preparing a special stew in the hopes of setting the tone for the evening. That night she had decided to give herself over to her husband willingly, albeit reluctantly. But the fiery and piercing hate she now saw in Japheth’s eyes terrified her mortal soul.
“I’m sorry, Tara”, Japheth said, his voice strangely deep, as he grew closer to his wife. “I’m sorry it must be this way.”
“What m-must be?” Tara asked, trying to control the fearful stutter in her voice.
“I’ve been patient”, Japheth continued, “But you are my wife, and you owe me the respect of a wife.”
“But, Japh…”
“Silence!” He bellowed, roughly taking her by the arms. “You think I don’t know?”
“Know what?” Tara pleaded, “J-Japheth, you’re hurting m-me.”
“You are my property, and I shall do with you as I please.” He spit out, swinging her around and dragging her toward the bed, tearing the hem of her skirt in the process. Tara cried out at the sound. “You WILL give me what I am due.” He ranted, thrusting her forcefully onto the feather down mattress.
*****
Tara lay in the bed, clutching the wool sheet tightly to her breast. Japheth lay asleep beside her having worn himself out with his earlier activities. She was terrified to move or even breathe, but she knew she had to get out of the bed, out of the house, even if for just a moment to collect her thoughts.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she slid out from under the covers, wincing slightly at the aching pain between her legs. Grasping her under-dress from where Japheth had unceremoniously thrown it on the floor she quickly put it on. Picking a shawl up from off of one of the chairs by the supper table, she wrapped it around herself and carefully slipped outside onto the front porch.
Feeling the cool earth beneath her bare feet, she stepped down the dirt path to the edge of the cottage’s front lawn. Looking up she saw the moon in the sky glowing full and bright. Just shy of midnight, she thought as a gentle breeze ruffled through her loose hair. She clutched the shawl more tightly to her chest and sat down on a tree stump near the edge of the path.
Why?, she kept asking herself, Why did it happen? And more importantly she wondered, Will it happen again? She looked back over her shoulder at the cottage door, and then out again to the dark woods beyond. “Mama”, she muttered softly to the wind, “What should I do?” She let her thoughts drift back to all the memories and thoughts and advice her mother had ever given her and an answer began to slowly form itself in her head.
“When I was a girl, I had a favorite story.
Of the meadowlark who lived where the rivers wind
Her voice could match the angels in its glory
But she was blind.
The lark was blind.
“An old king came and took her to his palace.
Where the walls were burnished bronze and golden braid
And he fed her fruit and nuts from an ivory chalice
And he prayed:
“‘Sing for me, my meadowlark
Sing for me, on the silver morning
Set me free, my meadowlark
And I’ll buy you a priceless jewel
And cloth of brocade and crewel
And I’ll love your for life if you will…
Sing for me.’”
“Then one day as the lark sang by the water
The God of the Sun heard her in his flight
And her singing moved him so he came and brought her
The gift of sight.
He gave her sight.
“And she opened her eyes to the shimmer and the splendor
Of this beautiful young god, so proud and strong
And he called to the lark in a voice both rough and tender
‘Come along…
“‘Fly with me, my meadowlark
Fly with me on the silver morning
Past the sea, where the dolphins bark
And we’ll dance on the corral beaches
Make a feast of the plums and peaches
Just as far as your vision reaches
Fly with me.’
“But the meadowlark said, ‘no.’
For the old king loved her so.
She could not bear to wound his pride.
So the Sun God flew a way
And when the king came down that day
He found his meadowlark had died.
Every time I heard that part, I cried.
And now I stand here starry-eyed and stormy
Oh, just when I thought my heart was finally numb,
A beautiful young maid appears before me,
Singing ‘Come…Oh, won’t you come.’
And what can I do if finally for the first time
The one I’m burning for returns the glow?
If love has come at last it’s picked the worst time
Still I know
I’ve got to go!
Fly away meadowlark!
Fly away, on the silver morning.
If I stay, I’ll grow to curse the dark.
So it’s off where the days won’t bind me.
I know I’ll leave wounds behind me,
But I won’t let tomorrow find me,
Back this way.
Before my past once again can blind me
Fly Away
And we won’t wait to say goodbye,
My beautiful young maid and I!
Tara stood, and without looking back, raced into the woods and toward the beach.
*****
TBC in Act Two!
Interested in the music? Here's the song list for Act One!
** -- Altered or additional lyrics by DarkWiccan
Act One
1. “Miller’s Son” by Stephen Sondheim from A Little Night Music – Tara
2. **“Later” by Stephen Sondheim from A Little Night Music – Tara
3. “Kind of Woman” by Stephen Schwartz from Pippin – Willow
4. “A Whole New World” Lyrics by Tim Rice, Music by Alan Menken from Aladdin – Willow/Tara
5. **“Moments in the Woods” by Stephen Sondheim from Into the Woods—Tara
6. **“In Praise of Women” by Stephen Sondheim from A Little Night Music – Japheth
7. **“Meadowlark” by Stephen Schwartz from The Baker’s Wife—Tara
"Promise me you'll never be linear." "On my trout."
Edited by: DarkWiccan at: 6/27/04 12:34 pm
Tara is worth so much more than that. I hope maybe Willow can show her that.Willow is just giving her the perfect opportunity to be happy and get away from her life. I really home she'll take it. I love Tara's excuse to be non sex with him.
-evil grin-
BWR 
) I've said it before, but knew i'd be saying it again.... your work is amazing. Truly amazing. I was hooked a few lines into the wonderful fic and am now anxiously awaiting the next part. 
Soon I shall take over the world!!! Okay... so... not really... I mean.. what would I do with the whole world? I'm having a storage issue at home enough as it is. Glad you're liking it so far! 
It's really descriptive and powerful. Hope you continue soon.
.
, lucky thing. Willow and Tara getting together was so simple and straight forward (apart from the obvious difficulties). It was like, okay..........we belong together, simple as..........now i'm gonna kiss you and ask you to leave everything behind and follow me..........like it was the most natural and normal thing in the world. I love it! 
oops... i've been naughty.