For It is said at the time of the solstices, two great kings do battle, The Oak king who rules the waxing year and the Holly King who who rules the waning year. This is not a battle of hate, but rather is a battle of light and reflects the arc of the sun as it makes its journey across our skies. Some say that the battle is won and lost by the power of the sword, but here, the Oak and Holly King enter a colloquy, an ancient bardic battle of words and wit to win the crown, and the light of the land.

Cold and bright the solstice dawn breaks through the doorway of the passage graves. Time out of mind the stones have stood marking the nadir of the sun’s journey across the sky. Placed by our ancient hands, with stone on stone they were shaped and pulled from the earth’s embrace, With magic they were raised upon our sacred land.

And at this time of the Solstice, a figure waits within the tomb.
He waits in darkness, and in stillness,
He waits for the coming dawn,
The rising of the Sun,
And the footsteps of his brother.

The Oak king turns to greet the Holly King, and asks

Brother, what is your name?

To which the Holly King replies,
Not hard to answer!
I am Arawn, Lord of the Waning Year,
I am the King of Holly,
I strip bare the leaf-ridden trees,
I bring darkness to this land,……and peace,
I banish the warmth of Summer
And welcome the iciness of Winter.
And you my brother, what is your name?

Yule King by Michael Kerbow
To which the Oak King replies,
Not hard to answer!
I am Hafgan, Lord of the Waxing Year,
I am the King of Oak,
I bring bud to leaf,
I Bring life to the Earth,
I banish the cold of Winter,

And welcome the warmth of Spring,

Brother, where do you come from

To which the Holly King replies,
Not hard to answer!
I come from Annwn, the Otherworld,
And at the time of your greatest power I am born into this world of Abred,
I ride on Rhiannon’s horse to claim my throne,
Laughing with the Wild Hunt I ride through the night sky,
My cold breath makes way for the coming of the Cailleach,
And the land is bathed in the beauty of ice and darkness,
Whilst Annwn blossoms, in your heat,
So Abred has peace, reflection, and renewal,
Guarded by Orion of the Silver Belt.
And you my brother, where do you come from?

the-oak-king-linda-ravenscroft
To which the Oak King replies,
Not hard to answer!

I come from Annwn, the Otherworld.
And at the time of your greatest power I am born into this world of Abred,
Called by the singing of the Birds of Rhiannon,
The warmth of my breath, and my seed, awakens the life within my Queen,
And the land is bathed in the beauty of our love,
Whilst Annwn is ruled by Winter and Ice,
So Abred blossoms, caressed by the heat of my gazing eye.
Brother, What art do you perform?

To which the Holly King replies,
Not hard to answer!
I give space to thought,
Bring renewal from death,
Bring rest to life, and transformation to your crown of green,
I light the inner fire, and the hearth,
And quicken the heart of the beast,
My Bards are the stillness of the winter sky,
The reflection on the water,
The tears of the ice,
Life returns to that space where dreams are forgathered,
Lovers lie before the flickering fires in their homes,
And new life is nourished as my Lady strips bare the branches,
And lays her cloak of white across the land.

And you, my brother, what art do you perform?

To which the Oak King replies,

Not hard to answer!
I lift the saddened heart,
Bring life to death,
Shape the hidden green,
Give flight to birds and insects,
My Bards sing upon their wing,
My orchestra plays music within the land,
Life returns, and in that space where thought becomes dream,
Lovers walk upon the warm earth,
And lay under the stars, and the Sun, together.
And I am here my Brother, to take my crown.

The Holly King places the crown on the Oak King’s head, and says

oak-king-and-holly-king

Then take this crown, but know this –
Even though you begin your rule,
My frost will form,
My touch will turn leaf to earth

Turn the fields to hardened mud,
And I will cool the oceans.
For although you take the power of light.
I retain the power of winter,
Until your Lady joins you,
At Beltane.

By Damh the Bard