Céibhfhionn and Gwydion
Preamble
She was a strange one. She looked on at the world around with hooded eyes, never quite feeling comfortable with what she saw, never ever comfortable within herself. She felt otherly, strange and unwelcome where she was, who she was, when she was...
It was a long time ago now, when the world was still fierce, pirates would abound stealing, plundering, looting. Night raiders taunted villages that were not protected....
Image Source: Image by David Mark from Pixabay
Chapter I
Part I
She lived in a quaint village called Hathawwe, on the outskirts. The closest major city was many leagues away, this pleased her as she didn’t enjoy the hustle and bustle of such crowded streets, the smell of that many people all living on top of each other. It irritated her senses and gave rise to the urge to escape whenever she had to visit there.
Céibhfhionn liked to keep a low profile. She was an observer in the world, always watching and learning but she always felt wrong somehow. The world felt hollow and sickly to her, it had always been so, since she was a child. People would look into her then grey eyes and she would only find pity in their faces for her, she was never a pretty child, she was never well to do. The people would only ever see the potential street urchin there and failed to capitulate to the deep sadness that held longingly to their gaze.
She was older now, somewhat wiser. She still looked upon the world with suspicion and sometimes contempt. Being a cobbler was a dying art and it was never an easy task to fix the stinky shoes of those who came knocking, but she loved her work and she poured her essence into it. She had calloused fingers and strong hands for a woman, it worked well considering she needed to be able to defend herself if necessary.
On this particular day, an ordinary day by any means, she sat at her workbench idly gazing out of the window at the meadow and the lush green woods beyond it. How she longed to just run into those woods and leave this life behind her, live out there in the middle – the somewhere – the nowhere – for a while. She very seldom allowed herself to daydream these days, it seemed fruitless and only gave rise to a yearning in her soul that she had never quite been able to quench. She felt soft today though, like thin chamois between your fingers. She let herself wonder there for a while, absently, while a small smile graced her lips, unnoticed by her – she was far far away, with him.
Part II
He noticed it though. Far away he sat, looking on at Céibhfhionn, wondering where she was, so lost in her head. He was a lookout and blessed with excellent vision and a long-seeing glass. Between his scouting for anyone untoward approaching, he would often let his gaze fall on her little cottage in the grotto. Sometimes he would see her hard at work, brows furrowed in concentration. But today? Today he melted seeing that soft smile on her face, she was beautiful to him and that smile he had only wished was for him. But it wasn’t and he would probably never know where she was, but he couldn’t help wonder. He occasionally drew her in his journey book. It gave him solace.
He had tried asking after her to find out her stories, but nobody seemed to know. She was a mystery to him, it was torturous, but he could not bring himself to look away. It was his own little selfish pleasure, to watch her work and occasionally get caught up in a daydream with her, it was the only way he could feel close to her.
Part III
She broke out of her reverie, berating herself and muttering for letting herself go ‘there’. She wiped the slight smile off her face and shook herself off, erratically snatching the shoe closest to her to get herself stuck back into work. “Work – the place where your dreams go to die Céibhfhionn” she used to say to herself softly. The dreams that hurt her soul and broke her heart to get pulled into. The dreams that felt like she was being pulled apart slowly by desire and need – that yearning she had as a child now increased many fold at the age she was now. She had locked it away in a box for as long as she could, but sometimes it took hold and she felt like she was asphyxiating, not able to breathe, not able to speak, as if it was crushing her. She had to fight it every now and again, feeling as if she was mad. The townsfolk would think she was possessed by demons.
“Not today, I won’t let it take me today”, “where your dreams go to die”. She threw the shoe to the floor and left for her secondary workshop.
Part IV
He watched her demeanour change. He’d seen it times before, how she refused to let herself go. That lovely small smile being erased from her face and replaced with a scowl. What was she so afraid of? What was pursuing her so vehemently that she would not allow herself a moments grace to just be? It broke his spirit to see her so tormented. He longed to help her, hold her, stroke her long brown hair out of her stark green eyes, the kind of eyes that stare into your soul and never leave you. He felt helpless but never hopeless. He always kept that – hope. “There is always hope, without hope doomed we are” was a mantra of his. He would remind himself daily to keep going. Keep moving. Keep dreaming. It was all he could muster right now, but it dented his spirit to see her being so callous with herself.
Slowly he lowered his glass and focused on what he could control, what he could help, what he could do. He lifted his glass and scouted. Looking far and wide for anyone that might be stupid enough to try anything untoward at the edges of His village. They wouldn’t last long. With that thought, he felt uplifted and empowered and he doubled his efforts. These were his people, this was his home. This was also her home – and he’d defend it because he would never want to live anywhere else.
Part V
It was seldom that she let that happened to her. She had let herself slip. She had let herself dream. She had let herself feel. She now felt like a fool – and she was angry. Her eyes blazed meadow green at the thought of her carelessness.
She readied herself for an unpleasant afternoon with flashbacks of beauty, love, togetherness, calm, understanding and warmth from her daydreams. There was nothing she could do now but let it be. She felt every impulse from that dream shift through her as she worked. Meticulous. She became laser focused on each part of the process in an effort to shift her attention from the rising emotions within. It never really worked, but it was all she could do. Pour herself into other people’s shoes. “Good shoes make people’s lives better” – her mentor always told her. And so the day moved on as the sun moved to setting and flashed brilliance across the evening sky in hues of amethyst, indigo, violet, fuschia, magenta and gold.
Two people watched the sky, far far apart but under the same stars.
Chapter 2
Part I
The following day Gwydion awoke from whispy dreams of her smiling at him, but he rubbed them away and sat up. He felt weird and rather unlike himself. His head was full of “fluff” and he needed to clear it. He needed some food and then a long walk.
He headed out after eating some simple hearth bread. Cut thick and buttered crust to crust. Perhaps he overdid it a bit, but he felt like it helped today.
Out he headed to the woods. Those magical trees that had stood for ages, heard and seen so many things along the years, they were always there to welcome him with his thoughts. He headed for the creek and sat down on a boulder. He watched the water as it moved on by, oblivious to his presence. Little fish swimming in the shallow nursery areas, skitting around whenever the wind blew leaves that hit the surface.
He couldn’t shake the cobweb feelings from the morning so set off on a long, long walk. It would lead him up to the summit of the hill that overlooked a vast expanse of the village. He was ready. He needed it. He pushed himself to leave the lovely view in-front of him behind and move towards his next destination. It would take him all up to past midday to get there, but right now he didn’t care. He wanted his muscles to burn and his throat to go dry – it would remind him to feel alive on days like this.
Part II
She had slept but it was a broken night. She felt irritated and worn down. It was a sunny day, a beautiful clear sky with only whisps of clouds far on the horizon, but she could see that those would form into storm clouds. She knew this sky well by now. Inside three hours she determined. Best to prepare for the worst.
She busied herself with workings for the fire, then headed out to chop wood. The wind was crisp and it fiddled and played with her hair. She ignored it but welcomed it’s cooling effect while she worked up a sweat in the sunlight. The wind started to pick up and those clouds started moving in, ominously sneering at her as if she were unwilling prey. She pulled her cloak tighter round her shoulders, her green eyes meeting those clouds and staring them down. They had already engulfed the hillside which was no longer visible from her vantage. Better head in. She decided to bake bread for the upcoming storm, it would give her enough time for the dough to rise and the fire to get ready. Perhaps she’d make pie too, she had some meat cuts still and a few of her root cellar vegetable stash. It would make a good meal. Comfort food. Soul food.
Part III
He hadn’t seen it silently creeping up on him. He had been oblivious, lost in thought and focusing on the terrain. This never happened to him – being caught off guard. He looked around him and realized he had let his mind slip so far away (to where she was) that he was almost at the summit – the air was damp with water vapour, the clouds were condensing, the sky looked grey and angry. The static was building in the air. He heard the first sonic boom almost as soon as he saw the flash off in the near distance. He pulled his hood up higher as he scanned the horizon. The air was bristling, it was alive, it was electric. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It filled his nostrils with petrichor and geosmin, it smelled beautiful to him. Her eyes suddenly flashed in his mind, the disturbing green that reminded him of mossy forest floors and screamed of caution, concern and, and... ----
His reveries was broken as he was catapulted down the side of the hilltop by a lightning bolt hitting the earth close by. He tumbled a few times and then gained his footing and a few handholds to hold him upright. He cursed under his breath. What was wrong with him today? He brushed himself off and carefully checked for any damage. His limbs were fine, his dignity? Not so much, but there was nobody there to witness it. And then he noticed it.
His boots. His left boot had torn where his boot knife sheath was, and his knife was nowhere to be seen. “Shit, that’s all I need right now, to have almost been hit by fucking lightning, rip my best boots and lose my knife. Dare I say what else could go wrong?” It was then that the rain started pelting down and the sky darkened ever so slightly. Normally he would have welcomed it, but he was now just annoyed with himself and found little time to enjoy the fresh air on his face and the rain falling around him.
He shook his head and looked around to see where his fall had started. The scuffed ground was easy to see and he was lucky he didn’t hit anything hard on the way down. “That luck of mine, guess it’s still looking after me”, he adjusted his sleeves, pulled his hood round and re-adjusted the ties. Walking back up the way he had come fallen, he slowly searched the ground for his knife. He found it close to the top, it must have dislodged the first time he tumbled. He checked the condition and satisfied that it was workable, he cleaned off the grit and slipped it into his belt instead, he wasn’t going to chance it coming adrift again from his torn boot.
His boots! He needed his boots. He couldn’t scout or raise the alarm with torn boots. He wasn’t prepared to think about this right now. He had to get back before the storm set in in earnest. It was long dark when he arrived back. His clothing was soaked. His back ached, his legs hurt and he felt worn out. Before sinking into his bed, he mused “Would tomorrow be cruel or kind?” He fell asleep to wind in the trees, whistling him lullabies and the soft steady rhythm of rain beating down on the roof. It wasn’t long before he was far, far away.
Part IV
The evening had been quiet and without event for Céibhfhionn other than the crack of thunder and the constant downpour. The pie had turned out well and she had eaten her fill at the fireplace, gazing into the flames, subdued, otherworldly, drifting when she was semi-blinded by a sudden flash of white light, then she saw him fall.
That was all she saw as she came to. She could smell petrichor and static. The hair on her arms stood on end and she shuddered from head to toe. What had just happened? Had she fallen asleep? Why did she continue to see Him in these short glimpses, always different places, but always accompanied by that same feeling. The longing. The yearning. She could never totally shake it. It would consume her if she let it.
She abruptly stood up and paced the room, not quite knowing what to make of this. Why was this happening? She felt crazed and rough around the edges. She felt helpless and rather ineffective. She still couldn’t get a lock on who he was, where he was and now, was he even alive?
It was pointless to go looking as she had no bearings from the vision with that blinding flash.
She had to wait until morning. Then she would go find him.
She settled into an uneasy, restless sleep. Nightmares tormented her and woke her numerous times during the night. Blinding flashes and then falling. There were little clues though left in the dreams.
Gwydion opened his eyes. It was the day. Today would be the day. He had no choice. He had to get his boots mended. Every time before, he had asked someone else to take them to her, but not today. He clenched his jaw and moving fluidly, he collected what he needed and he was out the door before he could second guess himself. It was the only way.
Part V
She woke up feeling thin and drawn. Her eyes were dry and scratchy as if full of sand, but she had seen the area. She knew where she had to go. She stretched her legs and arms as she looked out the window. The storm had moved off and the day would be clear. This was good. She needed a clear stretch if she was going to make it to the hilltop and back before nightfall. She got dressed, slung on her pack, checking everything twice. She looked at her bow, not knowing if she’d need it. No, she chose simple weapons for fending off animals instead of hunting them, then she got up to leave.
She opened the door while adjusting her pack and looked up – into eyes that saw through all of her. She knew those eyes. She knew this face. She knew Him. A thousand flashes of remembered visions shot before her eyes as he looked back into the forest green of her stare. Her eyes wide with surprise. He knew those eyes. He had looked at them a million times before while she gazed out her window dreaming of something. That small hint of a smile was nowhere to be found on her face. She was frozen, still - as she scanned over his features slowly, her eyes recognizing all the tiny details. His hand was still reaching up to knock on her door. His other hand clutching a pair of boots. Torn at the side. Boots she had lovingly repaired many times before. Boots that she felt at home with. Boots that smelled of petrichor and static.
The moment seemed to last forever. A moment of silence. Of soul recognition. A moment where nothing was spoken but everything that needed to be said - was. The moment their eyes met and it all made sense. They were home.
The moment his eyes said “You were always my Before Anyone Else” and hers replied “You will always be my For Ever & After”
An instalment of perhaps a greater fantasy novel of adventure, challenges and epic battles.
Artwork and story is my own, original, fictional content. Written today, for many tomorrows.