In 780 A.D., in Ireland, a warrior prince by the name of Drust was born. His mother died during the ordeal, and so he became known as Tristan, from tristesse, meaning sorrow. How much of the rest of this story is true and how much belongs to the skill of the great Welsh troubadours no one really knows.
Tristan's father was a great knight, but Tristan never knew him. He died in a fight before Tristan was born. After the death of his mother, Tristan was taken to live with relatives in another land. He demonstrated an exceptional skill as a hunter at a very early age, but otherwise lived unremarkably until pirates kidnapped him at the age of 10. He managed to escape, but was swept away by the sea and washed up on the shore of a strange land. He made his way to a forest, where he survived by his incredible skill as a hunter.
Soon, rumors of a wild boy living in the woods began to spread. Tristan was captured and brought to the court of King Mark. A year later, a distant relative of King Mark's came to visit in search of the boy he had raised since birth. Shortly, Tristan was reunited with his guardian, but he decided to stay at the court of his uncle, King Mark, in hopes of becoming a knight.
Seven years later - having proved himself as the worthiest of the knights of King Mark - Tristan would face his greatest challenge. An enormous knight named Morold would be visiting soon. Every seven years, Morold would appear at the court of King Mark demanding a tribute of young men and girls. The tribute was always paid, since no champion dared to face Morold alone, and to tackle him any other way would be ignoble.
In Tristan, King Mark had finally found a hero unafraid, even zealous, to meet Morold.
The moment Morold felt the arm of Tristan, he knew he had met a man like no other he had known, but Morold fought on confidently. Before long, Tristan received a slight wound.
"I expected more from you," said Morold.
"You expect this trickling of blood to stop me," said Tristan.
"You'll feel the pain of your wound soon enough. This sword is not what it seems. Dipped in a poison of my own making. No one can cure you but my sister, Isolde, and you'll find no comfort there. Though we are different, my sister and I are two sides of the same coin, each the other's sworn protector."
"Well then," said Tristan, lunging, "I am not the only one who will die today."
"The faster your blood races, the more the poison flows."
"Then I will move quicker still."
Tristan cracked the skull of Morold with his sword, then collapsed next to the fallen giant. Exhausted and already ill, Tristan was not yet ready to die. He knew of a Queen Isolde whose land was not far. Reasoning her to be the sister of Morold, he traveled to her castle disguised as a minstrel.
How Tristan survived the journey is impossible to say, but his magnificent body had grown haggard and weak by the time he arrived at the castle of Queen Isolde. Still, he managed to pull himself to his feet before the Queen and beg for an opportunity to speak. In a polite manner, he explained that he had been bitten by a snake and was dying. But he had heard of the sweet healing touch of the beautiful queen.
The Princess and the Queen were impressed by Tristan's fine manners, so noble for a minstrel on the verge of death. The Princess was assigned the task of nursing the boy back to health.
As Tristan's vigor returned, a palpable attraction to the Princess could be observed, which was a source of some concern for the Queen. A Princess, thought the Queen, should find better ways to occupy her time than consorting with minstrels.
Meanwhile, Tristan decided to send word back to King Mark informing his uncle of his improving condition. The very ideal of chivalry, Tristan was an accomplished musician and poet. Inspired by the unsurpassed beauty of Isolde, he constructed tender verses in her honor.
Moved by the gorgeous poetry, King Mark remembered his people's need for a queen. He sent word to Queen Isolde, who was thrilled by the prospect of her daughter's marriage to a powerful King. If the girl must waste her time toying with minstrels, let her do it as a well-married queen. But the Queen decided to keep her plans a secret, to surprise her daughter with the good news when the deal was set.
Then the body of Morold was brought back to the castle of Isolde. Upon seeing it, the Queen and the Princess vowed revenge upon "whomsoever did this heinous deed." Avenging the death of Morold was the solemn duty of his relatives, a pact made by a priest at the birth of the Queen and her brother.
Preparing the body for burial, Princess Isolde noticed a small chunk of metal lodged in his skull. She removed it, hoping someday to use the evidence to discover his killer.
One afternoon, the Princess found Tristan's sword and noticed a piece of metal missing from it. Matching up the fragment taken from her uncle's skull, she realized, to her horror, that the killer was the fair minstrel she had grown so fond of - obviously no ordinary minstrel.
She had no choice. She must kill Tristan. But she could not bare the thought. She had grown so fond of the boy. She resolved to follow the only honorable course she could see; she would kill Tristan, then kill herself. She might be dead, but she would be well remembered.
She chose poisoned wine as the method. She informed only her loyal servant, Brangane, of the plot. But Brangane, whose duty would have been to commit suicide along with her mistress, considered love preferable to death and switched the poison crystals for the crystals of a love potion.
The Princess poured the crystal laden wine.
"Why so melancholy, Princess?" Tristan asked, his own spirits soaring.
"To fate," she said, lifting her cup. They drank, unleashing an unrelenting passion, a love without care of consequences, without regard for any obstacle. Surely such emotions do not belong to crystals alone, but sparked by magic or fate, a seething insatiable love began to move inexorably towards its end, sweeping Tristan and Isolde along with it.
As the unsuspecting Tristan sipped his wine, the messengers of King Mark were speeding towards him with news of the King's impending nuptials - and Tristan's next assignment: to escort the King's new bride to her new home.
By elaborate scheme, Tristan and Isolde managed to avoid the wedding night horror of her in the bed of King Mark.
Rumors of a possible affair between the beautiful two had begun to trickle back to the ears of Mark. King Mark was said to possess "the ears of an ass," perhaps suggesting "he heard all" or at least, didn't miss much. Suspicious, he decided to put Isolde to the test, a trial by fire. His young bride would swear her fidelity to him then place her hands on a red-hot iron. Her truthful words would protect her from the searing metal.
Attending the ordeal, Tristan disguised himself as a tattered pilgrim. Approaching the King, Isolde stumbled into the arms of the dusty palmer. When questioned, Isolde claimed no man had lain hands on her "save this poor pilgrim here." She survived the ordeal unscathed.
Faithful Brangane took Isolde's place in King Mark's wedding bed. Brangane covered her face, claiming her purity and the traditions of her land required such modesty.
Resorting to all sorts of similar trickery, Tristan and Isolde yielded to their passions, but King Mark and his ears grew more and more alert. Once he found the two of them lying in a forest with a naked sword between them. Once he stabbed Tristan in the back with a knife while the boy composed a song for his fair queen. Tristan survived the wound, but Mark could stand no more of the rumors and banished him.
Recognizing his guilt, Tristan accepted his fate and set out to accomplish many great deeds in the name of King Mark and the fair queen Isolde. The fame of Tristan spread far and wide and he joined King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, but he could find no solace. In Brittany, he met a beautiful maiden with extraordinarily white hands whose name by coincidence was also Isolde (an extremely popular name for the time, apparently.) Tristan married Isolde of the White Hands but never consummated the marriage. Instead he set off to fight a dragon.
The battle, like any mortal combat, was grim, glorious and brutal in its finality. Tristan prevailed, but was badly wounded.
As he lay dying in the seaside castle he shared with Isolde of the White Hands, he sent word to his beloved Isolde, knowing that only she could cure him. He instructed his messenger to hoist white sails above the ship upon its return if Isolde was on board, black sails if she was not. Thus he would know if his one true love would come back to him.
As the ship sailed in, Tristan lay too weak to raise his head. He asked Isolde of the White Hands if the sails were white or black. The big white sails billowed majestically against the crisp blue sky, but his jealous wife replied, "black." Tristan died of a broken heart.
Upon finding his body, the spirit of his beloved Isolde departed this earth.
Tristan's father was a great knight, but Tristan never knew him. He died in a fight before Tristan was born. After the death of his mother, Tristan was taken to live with relatives in another land. He demonstrated an exceptional skill as a hunter at a very early age, but otherwise lived unremarkably until pirates kidnapped him at the age of 10. He managed to escape, but was swept away by the sea and washed up on the shore of a strange land. He made his way to a forest, where he survived by his incredible skill as a hunter.
Soon, rumors of a wild boy living in the woods began to spread. Tristan was captured and brought to the court of King Mark. A year later, a distant relative of King Mark's came to visit in search of the boy he had raised since birth. Shortly, Tristan was reunited with his guardian, but he decided to stay at the court of his uncle, King Mark, in hopes of becoming a knight.
Seven years later - having proved himself as the worthiest of the knights of King Mark - Tristan would face his greatest challenge. An enormous knight named Morold would be visiting soon. Every seven years, Morold would appear at the court of King Mark demanding a tribute of young men and girls. The tribute was always paid, since no champion dared to face Morold alone, and to tackle him any other way would be ignoble.
In Tristan, King Mark had finally found a hero unafraid, even zealous, to meet Morold.
The moment Morold felt the arm of Tristan, he knew he had met a man like no other he had known, but Morold fought on confidently. Before long, Tristan received a slight wound.
"I expected more from you," said Morold.
"You expect this trickling of blood to stop me," said Tristan.
"You'll feel the pain of your wound soon enough. This sword is not what it seems. Dipped in a poison of my own making. No one can cure you but my sister, Isolde, and you'll find no comfort there. Though we are different, my sister and I are two sides of the same coin, each the other's sworn protector."
"Well then," said Tristan, lunging, "I am not the only one who will die today."
"The faster your blood races, the more the poison flows."
"Then I will move quicker still."
Tristan cracked the skull of Morold with his sword, then collapsed next to the fallen giant. Exhausted and already ill, Tristan was not yet ready to die. He knew of a Queen Isolde whose land was not far. Reasoning her to be the sister of Morold, he traveled to her castle disguised as a minstrel.
How Tristan survived the journey is impossible to say, but his magnificent body had grown haggard and weak by the time he arrived at the castle of Queen Isolde. Still, he managed to pull himself to his feet before the Queen and beg for an opportunity to speak. In a polite manner, he explained that he had been bitten by a snake and was dying. But he had heard of the sweet healing touch of the beautiful queen.
The Princess and the Queen were impressed by Tristan's fine manners, so noble for a minstrel on the verge of death. The Princess was assigned the task of nursing the boy back to health.
As Tristan's vigor returned, a palpable attraction to the Princess could be observed, which was a source of some concern for the Queen. A Princess, thought the Queen, should find better ways to occupy her time than consorting with minstrels.
Meanwhile, Tristan decided to send word back to King Mark informing his uncle of his improving condition. The very ideal of chivalry, Tristan was an accomplished musician and poet. Inspired by the unsurpassed beauty of Isolde, he constructed tender verses in her honor.
Moved by the gorgeous poetry, King Mark remembered his people's need for a queen. He sent word to Queen Isolde, who was thrilled by the prospect of her daughter's marriage to a powerful King. If the girl must waste her time toying with minstrels, let her do it as a well-married queen. But the Queen decided to keep her plans a secret, to surprise her daughter with the good news when the deal was set.
Then the body of Morold was brought back to the castle of Isolde. Upon seeing it, the Queen and the Princess vowed revenge upon "whomsoever did this heinous deed." Avenging the death of Morold was the solemn duty of his relatives, a pact made by a priest at the birth of the Queen and her brother.
Preparing the body for burial, Princess Isolde noticed a small chunk of metal lodged in his skull. She removed it, hoping someday to use the evidence to discover his killer.
One afternoon, the Princess found Tristan's sword and noticed a piece of metal missing from it. Matching up the fragment taken from her uncle's skull, she realized, to her horror, that the killer was the fair minstrel she had grown so fond of - obviously no ordinary minstrel.
She had no choice. She must kill Tristan. But she could not bare the thought. She had grown so fond of the boy. She resolved to follow the only honorable course she could see; she would kill Tristan, then kill herself. She might be dead, but she would be well remembered.
She chose poisoned wine as the method. She informed only her loyal servant, Brangane, of the plot. But Brangane, whose duty would have been to commit suicide along with her mistress, considered love preferable to death and switched the poison crystals for the crystals of a love potion.
The Princess poured the crystal laden wine.
"Why so melancholy, Princess?" Tristan asked, his own spirits soaring.
"To fate," she said, lifting her cup. They drank, unleashing an unrelenting passion, a love without care of consequences, without regard for any obstacle. Surely such emotions do not belong to crystals alone, but sparked by magic or fate, a seething insatiable love began to move inexorably towards its end, sweeping Tristan and Isolde along with it.
As the unsuspecting Tristan sipped his wine, the messengers of King Mark were speeding towards him with news of the King's impending nuptials - and Tristan's next assignment: to escort the King's new bride to her new home.
By elaborate scheme, Tristan and Isolde managed to avoid the wedding night horror of her in the bed of King Mark.
Rumors of a possible affair between the beautiful two had begun to trickle back to the ears of Mark. King Mark was said to possess "the ears of an ass," perhaps suggesting "he heard all" or at least, didn't miss much. Suspicious, he decided to put Isolde to the test, a trial by fire. His young bride would swear her fidelity to him then place her hands on a red-hot iron. Her truthful words would protect her from the searing metal.
Attending the ordeal, Tristan disguised himself as a tattered pilgrim. Approaching the King, Isolde stumbled into the arms of the dusty palmer. When questioned, Isolde claimed no man had lain hands on her "save this poor pilgrim here." She survived the ordeal unscathed.
Faithful Brangane took Isolde's place in King Mark's wedding bed. Brangane covered her face, claiming her purity and the traditions of her land required such modesty.
Resorting to all sorts of similar trickery, Tristan and Isolde yielded to their passions, but King Mark and his ears grew more and more alert. Once he found the two of them lying in a forest with a naked sword between them. Once he stabbed Tristan in the back with a knife while the boy composed a song for his fair queen. Tristan survived the wound, but Mark could stand no more of the rumors and banished him.
Recognizing his guilt, Tristan accepted his fate and set out to accomplish many great deeds in the name of King Mark and the fair queen Isolde. The fame of Tristan spread far and wide and he joined King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table, but he could find no solace. In Brittany, he met a beautiful maiden with extraordinarily white hands whose name by coincidence was also Isolde (an extremely popular name for the time, apparently.) Tristan married Isolde of the White Hands but never consummated the marriage. Instead he set off to fight a dragon.
The battle, like any mortal combat, was grim, glorious and brutal in its finality. Tristan prevailed, but was badly wounded.
As he lay dying in the seaside castle he shared with Isolde of the White Hands, he sent word to his beloved Isolde, knowing that only she could cure him. He instructed his messenger to hoist white sails above the ship upon its return if Isolde was on board, black sails if she was not. Thus he would know if his one true love would come back to him.
As the ship sailed in, Tristan lay too weak to raise his head. He asked Isolde of the White Hands if the sails were white or black. The big white sails billowed majestically against the crisp blue sky, but his jealous wife replied, "black." Tristan died of a broken heart.
Upon finding his body, the spirit of his beloved Isolde departed this earth.
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