Topic: Opus

Lucky Duck

Date: 2008-03-02 01:03 EST
After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music. - Aldous Huxley, English critic & novelist (1894 - 1963) "Music at Night", 1931

Two winters had come and gone. Two winters and more since the last he visited the shop.

Tucked in a narrow alley around the corner from the Minstrel Hall, the shop would be easily overlooked by the casual passerby. The wooden sign hung on rusted chains over the door was so weather worn that it looked like a panel of blank gray splintering boards. The storefront looked as if it hadn't been washed or cleaned for more than a generation. On occasion a gray tabby could be seen laying in the storefront, sunning on the faded velvet fabric. Save for those moments of feline sunning, nothing was displayed in the storefront that gave any clue to what the shop was about, or that a business even occupied the space.

However a shop did exist behind the nondescript storefront and the too faded sign. One that the Barrister used to frequent for rosin blocks and varnish, among other things. This day, the window display was empty. Lucien stood in front of the door for a breath, hands in his pockets as he stared up at the shop sign bleached out by the weather. Perhaps he imagined it. Perhaps the yet low winter sun caught just enough of the remaining paint. Nevertheless there he saw the faint outlines of the original shop sign...a treble clef and bar lines of a piece of sheet music. A small unseen and short-lived smile hinted upon his mien.

Another moment passed before he reached for the door latch. A quiet breath was drawn and the door was opened, sending a small bell sounding a tinny jingle to announce his entrance.

NorseLady

Date: 2008-03-02 15:44 EST
Having spent the majority of her day meandering through the Marketplace 'window shopping,' decides it is time to return to her hus ....especially since she has been sorely tempted several times to purchase items not necessarily needed, but more of wanted.

As she turns away from the shoppe window displaying a wide variety of crystal and porcelain knick-knacks, a familiar figure catches her attention just before he vanishes from view, into an alley. Intrigued, stealthily makes her way to the narrow street, pausing at the corner to peek around the side of the building. The Fates are with her, for she catches sight of him again just as he opens the door to the store.

Lightest of blue gaze drifts upward to the old, weathered sign suspended from rusty chains. Curious, is she, not only because the name of the shoppe can barely be detected upon the graying wood, but also for the reason(s) of Lucien's visit. After all, the store is not exactly on the main thoroughfare.

Besides, the few times she has noticed the barrister in the Red Dragon Inn, his demeanor appeared to be more strained than usual. Could this establishment be a special hideaway' A secret meeting place? Whatever it turns out to be, she senses an adventure awaiting.

Quickly slips around the corner, into the alley.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2008-03-02 16:38 EST
Smell of dust, wood, metal and yellowing parchment greeted the man as he stepped inside the dimly lit shop. The bell rang its tinny sound once more with the door's closing. The gray tabby hissed at the entrant for rousing him from his nap. Guido, the gray tabby was named for Guido D'Arezzo, ceased when he recognized the patron and instead proceeded to stroll over for a bit of well-earned attention.

Lucien was more than happy to obliged the 'watch cat', reaching down to scratch Guido behind the ears as he reacquainted himself with the shop's once familiar interior. Display cabinets and counters of darkly stained wood were crowded into the small space. The glass insets were much like the storefront, cloudy and dingy and looking as if they had never been cleaned. Some were cracked. A few cabinets were missing the glass panels altogether. Even through the dusty glass, it was easy to see that each cabinet and display was jammed with all manner of books and parchment, mouthpieces and rosin blocks, bellows and picks.

"Guido, who's out there?" The rasping voice came from behind the faded curtain leading to the back of the shop, asking with a measure of surprise. The gray tabby got up, leisurely stretching his front paws out before him then rolling it over his entire body in an exaggerated display of his unfurling, before he casually disappeared behind the curtain.

"A fine watch you make, Guido." The Barrister stood up as the elderly shop keep emerged from behind the curtains, grousing good naturedly at the cat. He started to voice another complaint to the now unseen tabby, but his words fell silent on his lips as the general outline of another registered in his vision. He ambled a few steps toward the Barrister, wiping his leathery hands on the tanned canvas apron. He looked up at the man, squinting behind impossibly thick glasses to focus his declining vision.

Wrinkled lower lip pushed out from under the unkempt mustache that seemed too large for his face. The course bristles of his eye brows knitted at his wrinkled forehead nearly completing the crown that the disheveled bramble of white hair formed around his balding head. The diminutive keep, who stood at the Barrister's shoulder reached up a gnarled hand and smacked Lucien on the arm. "Where have you been?"

Lucky Duck

Date: 2008-03-03 11:50 EST
"Mi dispiace, Guiseppe," Lucien replied quietly with his hands opened at his side. The old shop keep pinched his eyes, leveling an irate glare at the Barrister. The man didn't hold that expression much longer, though and his put upon ire disappeared behind his overbearing mustache. The hard lines around dimming eyes softened as the elderly keep gave a more affectionate smack to Lucien's arm. Guiseppe turned around and ambled back behind the counter. "I thought you were gone for good, Viktor," the old man confessed as he disappeared behind the curtain without a glance back, fully expecting the younger man to follow. Lucien ducked behind the musty gray curtain that was once a rich black, and followed the keep into the back room. Guido gave a soft trill, barely lifting his head up off the downy pillow he was sprawled upon as the two men entered into the inner sanctum. Guiseppe shuffled over to his work table and resumed his place in front of the instrument he had been working on. Lucien determined a viol from the shape of it. The old shop keep waved the Barrister over to sit in the empty stool by the work bench without looking up. "You chose a good time to come," the elderly man remarked as he fitted the first of the tuning pegs. "I am just finishing this one. You can help me," Guiseppe decided as the third tuning peg was fitted. Lucien smiled offering no argument knowing that even if he was so inclined, no argument would have changed the keep's mind once set as it was. The Barrister let his gaze drift, moving from the man hunched over the instrument to the room itself. The back room was furnished end to end with cabinets and worktables of cherry that colored the space in a warm hue. Knives and chisels were laid out fastidiously across the work table. Vises and clamps were stacked orderly and kept within easy reach. Reeds and leather were housed in organized trays.

Instrument bodies in various stages of construction, were placed in methodical arrangement along one of the tables set against the wall. Numerous wooden flutes and pipes neatly lined one wall along with a few horns that the Barrister hadn't seen before. Several lutes and gitterns hung on another wall. However it was that which hung on the far wall that captured Lucien's attention.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2008-03-06 00:01 EST
The old shop keep looked up from his work and peered out from behind his thick glasses, watching the younger man walk over to the far wall where several violins and violas were hung. Eyes pinched and narrowed as the elderly luthier turned his attention back to the work at hand knowing which instrument the Barrister was being drawn to before the man had even reached for it. Guiseppe leaned over the viol and began to string the instrument with catgut, bowing his head so low to see the details of his task that the untrimmed ends of his mustache near touched the instrument body. "She needs to be tuned," the old man spoke into his mustache as he tightened the string. Lucien barely heard the man's muffled remark. Lucien barely heard anything at all, even the constant whisperings of his thoughts silencing. Eager fingers wrapped around the instrument neck and reverently took it down from its place. Eyes of ice blue followed the four strings along its run over the ebony fingerboard, between the curve of the waist and over the bridge to the tailpiece. The weight of the instrument was measured against his palm and fingertips tested the feel of the strings beneath them with experienced familiarity. An unseen smile teased at the corners of his mouth at the gentle bellow of the sounding board and the perfect cut of the f-holes. A bit of ivory was evidenced out of his periphery and the Barrister turned to find Guiseppe standing at his side, holding out a bow to him. The stick was in the same richly varnished maple as the violin in stark contrast to the brilliant white of the bow hair. Ivory inset accented the bow tip and marked a perfect dot on each side of the frog. "She needs to be tuned," the man repeated, nodding his head to the violin that Lucien held. The shop keep shuffled back to the table once Lucien took the bow and picked up the viol to tune the instrument. The Barrister followed and retook his seat on the stool and adjusted the tension of the bow hair. Guiseppe pushed a small block of rosin toward Lucien without the man's asking. The elder shifted in his seat, setting the viol between his legs. The younger tucked the violin under his chin and quietly bounced the bow across the strings in pairs to tune the instrument. Lucien closed his eyes and drew a deep and soundless breath as the first notes that sounded softly. It was not a breath, weary and pushing against a weight in his chest. It was not a breath, drawn to chase unwelcome whispers and discordant thoughts. It was not a breath, heavy and tired. It was not a breath that strained with burdens nor fought to stay the chaos.

It was a breath, light and sweet.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2008-03-11 01:14 EST
The luthier's seasoned fingers danced lightly over the strings, defying age and held each note with strength that belied the deceptive frailty that was expected from the swollen joints and too thin and wrinkled digits. Hirsute brows obscured the man's thick glasses and dimming eyes as he bowed his head over the instrument, keen ear tuned to every note that rose from his newest creation. Long stokes of the bow, intermittently mingled with a lightly bounced glance off the strings metered each tone of the smaller instrument. The barrister's brow was creased with contemplative attention to the string's vibrations and measure under well-versed fingers. All the while, a light dusting of white rosin powder began to cover the sound board near the bridge. The violin and viol sounded discordant counterpoints in a banter of major and minor chords punctuated by staccato notes as tune and tones were married. The high f-note of the violin sounded effortlessly against the resonate throat of the viol's bass, each note ringing clearly. Then the room fell silent. Guido yawned and stretched languidly, flopping over to lounge on his side, tail lazily flicking off the side of the pillow in that breath of silence. The men looked up from their instruments, fingers still poised over the fingerboards, their bows poised over the strings. Guiseppe gave the faintest of nods to the barrister. Lucien answered with a long plaintive note drawn from the violin. Fingers rose and fell in efficient and precise caresses over polished ebony boards and frets in frenetic melancholy as the elder followed the barrister's lead in. Bows swept languidly over the strings, stirring mourning melody and haunting harmony alike, a requiem born from the soul of the musicians, crying out of the instruments giving sorrow voice. Heads remained bowed and eyes remained closed as the rising strains of the elegy filled the back room and spilled into the alley.

NorseLady

Date: 2008-03-20 18:27 EST
Having waited to the count of twenty after Mallorek closes the door, slowly and carefully inches her way along the side of the building until reaching the storefront window. A look-see is taken through the grime. Not much to view except dirt. No movement from within can be discerned, either.

"By the gods! N"r be the last time anyone e'er cleaned this glass?" The exasperation evident in soft tone. "Na hvor did Lucien disappear?" Tsks.

It is clear to her that she is confronted with a dilemma. When the barrister made his way into the shoppe she knew a bell announced his arrival, for she heard it not only when he opened the door, but when he closed it as well. So then a decision must be made as to whether she shall follow in his footsteps and set off the warning device, or try to locate another point of entry. While she takes the time to mull over her choices, a wonderful sound floats to her ears.

Music. Sweet, sweet music!

The choice is an easy one now. Without further ado, places her leather-encased hand to doorknob and quickly heads inside. Promptly shuts the door. However, before she can cover her nose and mouth to mute what is about to come ....a sneeze escapes.

"Dammit!" The cursing whispered, for all the good it will do.

Standing still, like a statue, keen gaze immediately drifts to the old, faded drapery which obviously conceals another room; the area from where the lovely stringed instrumental sounds of melody and harmony are emanating. Do those who dwell behind the curtains hear her" Only time will tell.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2008-03-26 04:56 EST
Rich verdant fields stretched to the horizon. Tall reeds swayed gently, kissed with golden sunlight. Warm breeze carried upon it a familiar scent. Slowly silhouettes passed across the field, setting the tall grass rippling as if they'd passed through water. Their faces were masked in shadow of growing dusk, but each was known. One by one, they took their turn to address the barrister silently with an unseen smile. Each then turned and moved toward the horizon, melting into the landscape. Lucien's fingers raced fervently over the strings as memories overwhelmed his senses. The bow was pushed and pulled over the instrument in lament for each silhouette passed across the field in his mind's eye. The resonate notes the old luthier drew forth from the viol kept measured marks against the frenetic melody of the violin. Expanse of lush green turned to a warm gold then turned to a shimmering silver as skies of blue turned to a deep azure. Intermittent points of light glowed, dotting the nightscape with a playful display. Another silhouette passed before the barrister. A small bow of her head cast her features out of the shadows an into the moonlight, her smiling expression softening the dour countenance he was familiar with. She too moved on silently as the others had with only the wisp of the grass. Perspiration beaded on the men's faces as they continued to play in the back room, heads bowed over the instruments, strings teased to sing, sounding each note to the individual and collective memories. The melody slowed. Then changed, melancholy strain softening to a tender air. The last silhouette, the youngest skipped lightly through the field, small hands outstretched in an earnest attempt to touch the flickering stars. She wove in and out of the tall reeds, dancing in the soft moonlit glow. Then she stopped and turned to the barrister. Her smile shined in her eyes of bright blue, with childish mischief and warm innocence at the same time. She blew a kiss then spun on her toes and scampered after the others, the sound of the child's carefree laughter carried on the breeze. Echoes of the lullaby lingered after the barrister and the elderly keep stopped playing.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2008-04-01 22:36 EST
The gray tabby stirred as the last notes hung in the air, rising to his feet then leaned back onto his hind legs into a long stretch, impossibly long tongue unfurled with a wide yawn. Guido paid little mind to the men and leapt down off the stool and onto the ground with a graceful landing. He curled himself up toward his shoulders, stretching his hind legs out behind him then shook it out before casually strolling out into the front of the shop with a soft trill where he'd heard the bell ring. Guiseppe bowed his head low over the strings of the viol and watched the cat pad through the curtains, peering over his thick spectacles. Bony fingers moved up and down the strings deliberately as the luthier tested the tone and tune of the instrument. The barrister, who still held the violin under his chin and saw the cat's departure, nodded toward the faded screen. "I think you have a customer," he remarked quietly. The elder keep held up a hand and nodded once to silence and acknowledge the younger man. Lucien smiled as he watched the man go back to adjusting the viol. Guiseppe made one more small turn of the tuning key then strummed the string lightly, leaning a keen ear to the note. A wide smile broke out on his face, his eyes nearly disappearing under the man's hirsute eyebrows. The luthier set the instrument down with gentle care, then shuffled across the room and out through the curtains.

Dimming eyes pinched behind the thick glasses as he peered at the tall woman who was standing in his shop. Guiseppe wiped his hands on his apron, then slipped them in the same motion into his apron pockets and smiled at the lady. "Buon giorno, Signorina. Welcome. What can I help you with today?"

NorseLady

Date: 2008-04-05 03:38 EST
The moment the gray tabby appears from behind the curtains Shylah knew it is going to be only a few short minutes before the proprietor will also be emerging from the back room. Is that not always the way of things" Thoughts of "damn cat" and how those domesticated felines can ruin a good surprise remain unspoken. A frown at the bad luck, however, is not kept in check.

When the old shop keeper moves out from behind the drapery to greet her and ask his question, the female Viking decides it is best to take her leave and return another day. Not wanting to appear rude, angry or unkind, replaces the frown with one of her most dazzling smiles. A nod to the gentleman.

"Hei. Jeg h"per denne dagen funn du ved god helse. I find that I must attend to other business right na, but takk for the beautiful music!" Though her words are spoken softly they hold much enthusiasm.

And then she is out the door just as quickly as she had entered, moving past the front window with haste. Ja, she will definitely return ....with the knowledge that two warning devices dwell within the dusty store.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2010-03-21 21:52 EST
The Barrister had his head bowed and was strumming a tune softly on the violin, like on a guitar, when the old luthier shuffled through the curtains. Lucien did not look up from his strumming nor did Guiseppe speak a word to interrupt the younger man. Instead the elder keep ambled back to his seat at his work bench.

Leathery hands were wiped on the apron and the viol and bow were picked up. He bowed his ear to the instrument and softly plucked a few strings, then rested the bow against them. Dimming eyes closed behind the thick spectacles, disappearing under the mass of course hair over his brow. The tempo of the younger man's strumming was measured with a light tip of his head.

The bow was drawn over the strings and a deep note teased from the instrument. And both instruments fell silent.

Without a word, the violin was swung around and tucked under his chin. The bow was swept over and back across the strings as fingers rose and fell over the fingerboard in quick succession. A deep counterpoint sounded from the viol, bow and gnarled fingers moving in matching tempo to the violin. A single, clear note was drawn out of the violin. And mirrored by the viol.

He didn't open his eyes, nor look up across the table at the luthier sitting there as the last notes lingered in the air between them. A small grin ticked unseen at the corner of his mouth as the bow was raised once more. One...two...three...four....the tempo was counted silently.

One...two...three...four... and the bow was drawn down rapidly across the violin strings. Back and forth the bow was pushed and pulled across the viol stings. Practiced fingers moved frenetically over the strings as the back room erupted with the sound of dueling instruments.