Fool’s Bubbles

How Honeymoons Came To An End

Dionysus sought a new following for his revels and the vine, so he took on a new form, that would allowed him to travel, far and wide, with great speed. Across those lands, where the vine held sway, his shape journeyed, after which he flew on over the sea, unto his destination, which was a group of islands, where the vine was unknown. As he sawed over there, he looked down upon them and saw revels, but no sign of reverence, for him or his beloved vines. After an age of watching, he landed in a wood and took on a human form. Upon landing, he sensed that the islands were hostile to him, even to their bedrock — he and his were an unwelcome visitor to those shores.

There was, in the wood, a revel that rivalled the wildest that he had ever attended. Despite the joyousness of the revel, his mood was dark, for there were none of his wines or vines within his divine perceptions. After having observed the festivities for a time, Dionysus moved towards where they were held. Entering the revellers’ clearing, Dionysus was uncertain of the reception he would receive. As soon as he entered, a skin of liquid was passed to him, only form him to doubt his perceptions, once he had smelt the contents, of the skin. The drink reminded him of the nectar, of Olympus, but he was not in the presence of his father, and the other Olympians. When eventually he tasted it, his mood became darker still, for the drink tasted even finer than the best Olympian Nectar. A voice echoed, in his mind, “Yes! Vine Lord! True nectar. Not your low wine, fruit of the vine. Where do you think old Bright Eyes gets his…”

“No!” Dionysus’s face showed his anger and disbelief.

The voice taunted; “Go, ask Daddy!”

Dionysus fled to Zeus, “Father, Lord Zeus, is our Nectar brewed by the barbarians, in the Land…”

“Of course son.” Laughed Zeus, “Of course The Islands of Mead do brew the Nectar for us, for they have long been masters, of that magnificent art. Your vines produce a fine drink for mortals, but our Nectar could never come from your vines, for no fermented fruit could produce such a fine drink.”

After hearing his father’s words, Dionysus withdrew into such dark brooding, that no revel ever cheered him again. In time though, after many a century, and in the guise of Bacchus, he urged on the legions of Rome, to destroy the Islands of Mead. Too late for many, of the brew masters, those legions too fell prey to its delights. Thanks to Dionysus and due to the ravages, of Rome, the Britons came to taste, the low pleasure, of vine wine.

It is true that Dionysus’s beloved vines came to The Island of The Might, at that time, but they did but struggle to survive, against the land’s hatred, of them. There was little to ease, the dark moods, of Dionysus, in the way that his treasured vines did fare, in those lands, that were once know as Ynas Myrddin.

Over time, he plotted his revenge, although many a century did pass, he still could find no way to destroy the hated mead. Eventually other invaders came to dominate, those lands, but mead lived on. Even the low drink, of those lands, was not of his vines, but ale. Dionysus’s temper finally exploded, when he heard of the English Spirit — a spirit, that some others call Crupnic or Krupnik — a liquor distilled from fermented honey. English Spirit was a magnificent spirit, that excelled in flavour and character anything that his wines could ever become. In his anger, he laid The Curse Of The Vines, upon the Island Of The Mighty, “Ale shall be gone and the hop will rule all.”

Once his curse started to bite, the avaricious brewer welcomed the foul vine and forced it upon the, protesting, ale drinker. They complained because ales’ delicate flavours were eaten, by the evil hop’s acrid burn. Thanks to Dionysus’s curse beer was born. Though many hated the curse’s child, Greedy brewers loved the hop, for any evils, that they committed, could easily be lost in its burning, of the brew. Also lovers of the hop were Lazy brewers, for when they brewed, if they just added a few of the bitter hop, they need not brew again, for a very long time.

When they learnt of Dionysus’s pettiness, the guardians, of Ynas Myrddin, returned the compliment, with an even more dread curse — the curse of bubbles — according to many it was worded as follows; “All fools shall believe that bubbles are the finest fruit of the vine.” Upon hearing the curse, Dionysus saw the future and passed from the world, in despair.

A child of this curse was Champaign, that was to prove that men are fools, for that dread curse brought about, what Dionysus never could, the downfall of the Nectar of the Gods. Lovers became fools, and an end came to Honeymoons, as Fools’ Bubbles became the drink, of weddings.

There are those who say, that as he passed, from the world, Dionysus uttered another curse — who’s effects were not perceived until this century — the curse of death fire or Louis’s damnation. This curse, a curse as malign as, if not even worse than, the curse that brought into being Fools’ Bubbles, as such it is believed to be responsible for Fools’ Bubbles even more evil twin keg.

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Filed under Annals Of Bellhamshire, First Chapters, Mythology, Short Story

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