So before I post this, I thought I should mention that about 3 years ago, our local SCA shire, Flintmarsh, received it's permanent status and became an official shire. The next February, we were hosting our joint event with another shire-- and I would be teaching a couple of classes on basic belly dancing and introductory drumming. I was -extemely- nervous the night before, and I couldn't quiet my mind, nor get myself to go to sleep. So, using a bit of what I knew about the actual history behind how our shire had formed, I decided to tell myself a story so that I could go to bed. After a wonderful night's rest, I attended the event, taught my classes, had a wonderful time, and during feast, shared the story I had invented with my shire/ table mates.
This was the result (from February, 2008):
The Story of The Legend of Flintmarsh
by Cigan Oszinte (mundanely known as Janin Wise)
Once upon a time, less than two hand spans ago, Flintmarsh did not exist. It was not even an idea in the minds of its founders. They were part of another shire. A shire to the East.
But things were unsettled in that shire and it was troubling times, and a portion of its populace decided that they could stay there no longer. So they banded together, said goodbye to the friends they still had amongst their old home and headed out into the wilds of the west to find a new home.
They traveled for many days, loaded heavily on their wagons. Stopping every evening and wondering “Would this be our home?” But every time, there was some reason it would not work. Perhaps there was no ready supply of fresh water. No shelter from the elements. Too little fuel for even a warm fire. Or worse yet, unsuccessful hunting.
Until one day, they came here, to what would become Flintmarsh—a bountiful area where land met water and wildlife abounded. The light from heaven shown down upon it and they knew they had found home when they sent their warriors out on the hunt and they brought back the boar—symbol of hearth, home, prosperity and hope and decided they would use it as their device.
But all lands belong to the king, and no shire may begin on the king’s lands without his blessing, so they petitioned the king of Meridies for the right to set up in his borders. Being a wise king, he gave them permission to try, but they would have to show they could prosper and grow before he would grant them permanent status, for no town can exist with too few people.
They were fortunate to start out with great leaders, people capable of the behind the scenes work that keeps all society going. And they had among them a blacksmith armorer who not only helped armor and arm their fighters to defend their new lands, but taught them to arm and armor themselves. They also had amongst them archers of great skill and prowess.
And as time passed by, as populations are wont to do, they grew. The arts came to them—they were blessed with artisans both of pen and needle. Fair maidens with sweet voices and nimble feet. Heralds, fighters, all—they grew and they prospered.
And they came unto the notice of the king, who saw that they had kept to his directives and aspired to their goals. And being a wise and gracious king, he called them to court and granted them with their permanent status, and thus are we, the Shire of Flintmarsh!