An Oncomming Storm
Customs of the Cocklesvale, The Lay of Wicked White
Since you were so good as to ask me earlier, young Lord Alain, why the smallfolk raised fires every year and why your father went to watch I have dedicated this lesson to the so called Festival of Fire. It is an old festival in the Cocklesvale, specific to the region, dating back to the time of the Andal Invasion. Originally men burned not ordinary trees but only the Weirwood groves of the Children of the Forest, groves once common across the Cocklesvale. It has always been in honour of the Smith however, and the trees burned are said to aid the fires of his forges. Indeed, many smiths of the region hold it that to use coal produced during the festival enhances the products. Superstition of course. Lady Rhaena has volunteered to sing the Lay of Wicked White, a popular song connected to this ancient festival.
Wicked white trees the forest filled
Horrible haggard trees that man killed
Eerie eyes of burning blood
Dread defiant against the good gods.
Brave brothers raised seven septs
Wicked white willows wept
Fire free, pristine and pure
Cleansed clean the fell forests dour.
Smith’s solace remember still do faithful folk
Glittering glory as men fire steadily stroke
Shining still the fires fume
Lacing light through the darkest gloom
Very good young lady, a considered and beautiful performance as always. You will now all write what you think this song means and what basis these legends might have in reality.