“I can tell you all the things there are to be known”, she would say, “but without understanding, what do you truly know of them? You see, knowledge is a distaff of wool, the raw material of clothing. Understanding, then, is like the cloth, the warp and weft of knowledge working together to form a coherent whole. But wisdom – wisdom is the garment, where that understanding is pieced together to form the articles which serve us well, which drive out the cold of the bitterest winters or, if needs be, shelter us from the searing heat of the hottest sun. It is how we use that understanding that determines what use the wisdom will be to us.”
This was true, of course, but her teenage mind would sometimes mistake the former, the knowledge, for the latter, the understanding and the wisdom. The Queen smiled at this, in the knowledge that when the time came things would click into place.
The young girl had spent her free time watching: watching the habits of the farmers, the traders, the servants, the Bards, the Ovates and, yes, the Druids, and had formed in her head a paradigm of the behaviour indulged in by various different members of the tribe. And although her time in her new life had, up 'til now, been relatively short, she had developed a keen idea of what to expect, a paradigm. Her formative years were, after all, spent in the cosmopolitan rough-and-tumble of modern-day London, with all its characters from the brightest star to the grubbiest pin-thief, and this was a grounding in how things worked.
Of course, Queen Rhiannon had no idea of such a place.
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