A Raven's Musings on a Princess

There comes a time in ev’ry raven’s life

(At least, that’s what the crows of old have said)

In which he meets a cybrinn yet unmade.

Such was the case when I the princess met.

She was a lass still young and wild and free,

Brown hair full wild despite her coronet,

A child who yet ten summers had not seen.

And I was new-fledged, searching for myself

And hoping for my purpose soon to find.

What contrast she with all around her made,

When she with sister, staff, and soldiers came

Into the shady glen where I then dwelt!

A gangly thing, all limbs and skirts awry,

Uncomf’terble that side-saddle she rode,

And yet her gaze swept all around her, bright

With curious thirst to drink all nature in.

Those eyes looked up to find me in an oak

Where sat I preening each long sable plume

Of folded wings. Her chestnut glance to me

My mission from the Powers That Be made clear:

To stay with her and guide her to The Call.

All ’round her palace folk began to speak,

Their ranks they broke, and then began they make

A picnic there, amidst the vibrant trees,

And I designed to join, for in their packs

I saw a broken loaf of fresh-baked bread

Which seemed a welcome change from moths and slugs.

So when the young one sat to eat her fill

Upon a blanket laid across the ferns,

I from the trees flew down and made a perch

Upon her knee. The other princess then

Cried out with fright and ran and hid behind

A servant’s skirts, but childlike innocence

And wonder held the younger in her seat.

“Hello there, friend,” she softly greeted me.

The others shouted warnings but then hushed

As lightly she began to stroke my head

With her small fingers. “Princesses should not

Behave in such a way,” a woman chid.

“You want a piece of bread?” the child asked,

And tore a tender bite for me to taste.

I cawed and gladly took the tasty bite.

“He’s friendly,” called the girl to all the rest,

And thus they all began to move again.

“I think I’ll call you Algot,” she then said,

“If that’s a name that suits your fancy, friend.”

I trilled and fluffed my feathers, pleased to find

That she believed me worthy of a name.

(For raven-kind a name is earned through acts

Performed in service to our wingèd kin,

And I was then too young for any name

Aside from Fledgling to be laid on me.)

“I think he likes it, Minna,” beamed she then.

To that her sister frowned and shook her head.

“You’re being foolish, Fifi,” said the girl

Who had upon her head a coronet

A twin to that the younger princess wore

And who took fright when I her sister joined.

“You cannot think to keep a creature such

As that within our suite.” The younger frowned.

“Who said I had such aims?” she asked as she

A berry cluster offered me to eat.

The elder princess said she knew the girl,

How whimsical and silly she could be,

And that a raven is no proper pet

For one a princess born to have or keep.

Young Fifi shrugged and kept her eyes on me.

“He joined us here; perhaps he’ll choose to come

To Adelhyod, as well,” she answered back.

“Our Mother will not like it,” elder warned,

And others ’round them murmured words akin.

“The choice is yours, my friend,” the young one said

To me. “I’ve never known a raven so

Inclined to spend its time with humankind.

But long I’ve wanted such a friend as you.”

Not pet, but friend, she said that afternoon,

Though none among her comp’ny understood

That young and sheltered girls like her could know

How diff’rent those things are. And so I chose

To answer when she “Algot” called aloud

And fly beside her when they started home,

Despite her sister’s protests and the loss

Of freedom in the shady grove I loved.

The young one does not know yet who I am

Or why I joined her of my own free will,

Why I the skies and woodlands chose to trade

For cool stone rooms and shining gilded bars

(The maids would not allow that I could stay

Without that I could be in cage confined).

Then, too, she knows not what she herself is,

Nor the potential that stirs in her soul.

I think her sister sees–that older girl

With red-blonde hair who first took fright of me–

She and my Fifi are so very close

Though most unlike each other these girls be.

Fair Minna is a princess through and through,

And knows her sister to be otherwise,

A princess born but not a princess made.

Still Minna tries to make the young one find

Some joy and purpose in her rank and place.

The servants likewise waste much of their time

In seeking for young Fifi to ensnare

With etiquette and gowns and tedium.

But Fifi steadfast stays a wild thing

At heart, and often makes her way apart

That she might draw and daydream in the sun,

In courtyards where she often goes to ’scape

The weight of coronets and royal rules.

With her I often go on these exploits

To stretch my wings and guide her earnest gaze

And exploration of the nat’ral world.

With each excursion her potential grows

And more she finds to make her eyes alight.

It pleases me to watch her grow this way,

An aspen tree amongst the mighty oaks–

Not for this soil, yet flourish does she still.

Like flower buds that bloom in their own time,

So stirs the Calling once the soul’s matured

And ready for the road that lies ahead.

When time for her for that may come, I dare

Not venture any kind of conjecture.

Although she knows not yet what she can be,

A cybrinn she’ll become someday, somehow.

The Call is strong in blood and bone and soul

Of this young woman born to wear a crown.