··· Ley's wonderful image is a gift from Mehdi Cyaxeres - thank you!! ···

Step inside and come closer, traveller, please close the curtains and leave the chill of winter outside. Make yourself comfortable here at the fire, and let the pages serve whatever you fancy. You've come at the right time, for I was about to relate the ancient lore of Ley, the most beautiful boy who ever happened to set his feet upon the shores of the Rhine.

As he grew up, few found themselves unaffected by even a passing glance from his eyes, enticingly framed with lashes so black that they shamed the night itself. His peeling laughter chimed like bells of silver, and his glossy hair dulled even the wings of ravens. His moves were those of a dancer - vibrant and sure, yet graceful and light. And his heart did match his appearance, for it was as beautiful and innocent as a child's.

One day, however, he found himself in love. The sparkle in his eyes turned golden as his love was returned. Alas, his happiness was not bound to last. The man he had given his heart to wasn't worthy of such a gift. So this one day came that saw beautiful Ley in tears, crushed and deserted by his unfaithful lover.

"Eat!" his friends said. "Drink!" they urged. But Ley only turned his head aside, mourning his loss at day and night. The nights found him on his knees, purging his heart to the gods in prayer. Little did he know of deceit and treachery, so his heart was pure and his prayer honest. "Make me beautiful", he prayed, oblivous of how beautiful he already was. "Make me irresistible!" He would have sold his soul - and there are some who argue that he did. But I knew him - Yes, I did! - and know that such is not true. The gods granted him his heart's desire - in an unexpected way, aimless and without reason to a mortal's eye, as they do sometimes.

Ley arose even more beautiful than he had ever been. A vision to behold, and men fluttered around him like moths around a flame. Alas, the only one who didn't care was the only one Ley cared for. A wound hardens into a scar, as we all know, and a scar Ley's heart became. He took an admirer to his bed, fed off him to ease his pain, only to cast him aside in passing, an empty shell, just like a broken toy that is not loved. Then another one, and then another one and still another. The years passed as he left behind a trail of men who had cast aside their lives to quell the pain of their broken hearts.

Even though Ley was still as beautiful as, like they say, love is itself, his eyes had turned weary, and his smile had become sad. Blinded by his appearance he was either loved or hated, for long were the lines of mourners at the graves of those he had tossed aside, and large was the number of those who envied him beyond reason.

Ley was dragged in front of the judge, accused of murder and sorcery. His lips never moved to defend himself, remained motionless even in the face of death. Though his eyes were empty and their luster had dulled, the judge could not avert his face, deeply moved by something he didn't dare to name. "Let him live", he decreed. "He shall become a monk and repent for all he has done!"

And so the next day found beautiful Ley escorted by three knights on his way to the monastry. As they reached a rock at the eastern banks of the river, he raised his head and broke his silence. Would his guards, perhaps, grant him one last look from atop this rock down on the Rhine he loved so much? His request was granted, and the knights watched him climb the rock as nimbly as a salamander. None of them saw him draw a deep breath, none of them witnessed the sigh of relief as he threw himself off the rock, down into the churning waves.

"He died", the knights reported, "he couldn't bear to face his deeds."

But Ley did not lose his life. When he broke through the water's surface and was swallowed by the waves, he opened wide his mouth, opened wide his arms in an embrace to welcome death. But the Rhine refused to crush his limbs, the Rhine refused to drown him, the Rhine refused to lose him. Touched by the god Ley began to change. He breathed the Rhine as easily as air, the waves caressed him, eased him around the rocks, carried him deeper, deeper, down where the violent current was eased. And as Ley looked down along his legs, he found them fused and covered with shimmering scales. His feet had turned into fins more delicate than a spider's web, yet firm as hammered silver. "I cannot bear to lose you", the waters whispered. "You shall stay with me. And they who have turned away from you, they shall be your prey. They shall fall prey to your beauty and my wrath, they shall be robbed of their lives while I will alight in your love." Such spoke the Rhine, for it was his voice that whispered and caressed beautiful Ley.

And so it came to pass. His sadness washed away by the love of a river, the sun found Ley again one day, spread delicately on the top of the rock, combing his glistening hair that again dulled the raven's wings. The first man to lay his eyes upon him was a ferryman, the one who had been Ley's love and who had betrayed this love. He was the first to be captured by him, who is loved by a river. Enraptured by the sight the ferryman threw aside his pole, his boat drifted towards the rock Ley was resting on, his heart beating fervently, his blood burning in sudden desire, his face awash with tears as he began to realise what he had cast aside, what could have been his had he just cared.

Alas, it was too late. Ley's eyes rested upon him for a moment, but there was no recognition in them, his memory having been swallowed by a merciful god. Again the ferryman saw this smile that once had been shining only for him, and he still stood transfixed as a wave lifted his boat up high, seemed to carry him towards his goal - and smashed him onto the rocks with all the avenging fury of a god. For who would doubt that the Rhine is a god?

One by one they were lured, one by one they were drowned. And they say, that until this day it means death for an unfaithful lover to dare and set his feet upon a boat to cross the river close to the rock of Ley. I have no fear, I know I am safe from the river's wrath, for have I not loved the beautiful Ley, have I not seen the sadness in his eyes? For this alone, I know, the river loves me. I have never seen him again, yet he still lives on in my heart.

And I shall never cease to sing the Lore of Ley.