The morning of the wedding finally arrived with heavy mists, and Orlagh sat near the firepit. Everyone else was on various errands, but Eolande helped her create a wreath from spring flowers. Not many were in bloom yet, but there were enough interesting flowers in the Boireann to give her a choice. “Now, yellow will just fade into your blonde hair. How about some blues and purples? Tawnith, stop pecking at those!”
Her friend held up a small group of tiny flowers, the pale blue of a winter sky. There were also several larger vivid purple flowers.
Nodding, Orlagh smiled. “I like the contrast. Can you fit both into the wreath?”
Eolande nodded and bent to her work. “I am so happy you are getting married on May Day! It’s an auspicious day for the old gods. A fruitful and fertile marriage starts on Beltaine.”
She giggled. “As long as I’m spending my wedding night on someplace other than a freshly-tilled field, I’ll be happy.”
“It’s not so bad on such fields. You can feel the earth move, you know. Not just the dirt, but the very earth.”
Orlagh stared at Eolande, remembering the conversation about Eolande’s winters in Faerie. Orlagh had pushed the discussion back from her mind and wasn’t certain she was yet ready to consider the implications. Still, it made her more wary of making assumptions about her dear friend. She’d believed the other girl to be innocent of men, but evidently, she’d had lovers before. Certainly, she’d never borne children, at least as long as Orlagh had known her. Before she could ask some burning questions, Tam appeared.
“Yana needs you. The wedding outfit is ready.”
Orlagh stood, suddenly nervous. Yana wouldn’t tell her what the léine would be like. She simply smiled and said the garment would be her wedding gift to the happy couple. She didn’t even know what color it was. With a quick glance to Eolande, who shooed her away, she followed Tam to the village.
The mists still hadn’t cleared as they passed several small farms along the shore. She’d expected them to stop at the tavern, but they kept going. Yana must be at the local seamstress’ place. As they approached the tiny home, Orlagh fought a sudden urge to run. She was getting married today. Her léine was ready. Is this a horrible mistake? No, of course it wasn’t. This was exactly what she longed for. This is the fate she chose for herself, despite her grandfather’s objections.
The interior was dark. She blinked several times before she could make out two figures in the gloom.
When Nuala the seamstress emerged from the black hole of a door, she carried an amazing deep blue léine bordered with bright white flowers along the hem and neckline. Orlagh stared at the garment for a few moments before allowing Yana to guide her back into the seamstress’ place. In the near dark, Yana pulled the léine over her head and tugged it into place.
Yana’s voice came from the darkness. “We’ll take this magnificent léine outside so you can actually see. Nuala, let’s see how the color looks up against her lovely face.”
Backing out, Orlagh squinted once again, despite the foggy day. At least her wedding day was relatively dry, if not fair or bright.
“Hmm. Yes, it fits just right across the breasts. That should work well with a belt. I’ve just the thing at camp. What do you think, Orlagh?”
She spun in place several times. She delighted in the sheer feminine luxury of the flaring hemline. Touching the fabric, she frowned. “What fabric is this? It’s not wool or linen.”
Yana grinned. “It’s called silk, dear. From Byzantium. The fabric cost dearly, but worth the price to see the smile on your face.”
The silk was incredibly soft and light. She could almost see through the fabric. “Oh, thank you, Yana! Thank you so much!” Orlagh flung herself around Yana’s neck in a hug and the older woman staggered back several steps.
“You’re worth nothing less, my dear sister-to-be. Now, take this off before you soil it. I’ll keep it safe until the ceremony at dusk.”
With great reluctance, Orlagh went inside and extracted herself from the fine fabric, being careful not to rip the delicate seams.
She skipped back to the camp, eager tell Eolande about her outfit. She ran along the shore, passing the tavern, three farms, and a small fishing pier. When she got to the path, she turned toward the woods, to the camp.
At least, she thought that’s where the camp had been.
Orlagh had walked a good twenty minutes before she realized she should have found the camp by now. Nothing around her seemed familiar. The trees, the stones, even the earth looked alien to her, something out of an ancient tale, not real life. The mist caressed her skin, making her sweat and tremble. She pulled out her knife, though she couldn’t name a threat she feared. She drew comfort from the weight of the weapon in her hand, and turned slowly, looking for the path she’d been on. Two slow spins later, she gulped.
Getting lost in the forest, any forest, was dangerous. Besides Ostmen, brigands, and wolves, tales told of less natural threats. She thanked God her knife was cold iron, something which could combat against Fae and other dark creatures. If only the sun came out, she might find west and head toward the ocean. However, the shining orb glowed too weakly to burn through the thick fog and offered no help.
This was ridiculous. Today was her wedding day! She refused to be lost on her wedding day. With determination, she chose a direction and marched. She would either find the shore in a half hour, or she wouldn’t. If she didn’t, she’d turn and march for an hour in the opposite direction. The ocean lie to the north and the west. Water shouldn’t be so difficult to find, even if she could barely make out her hand in front of her face.
Squaring her shoulders and pushing down the gibbering fear which threatened her determination, Orlagh walked. She’d trod this path a dozen times before, perhaps a hundred. How could she have lost the trail so utterly?
Was that the old rotten tree from near the small glade, where they dumped their wastewater? No, the shape was all wrong. This one was covered in moss, while the other had been clear. She turned completely around, looking for some landmark, some familiar sight to help her orient. She listened for the ocean, voices, the crackling of the fire, anything to help.
She couldn’t even tell which way north was at this point, and therefore, which way the ocean was.
Shivering with anxiety, she picked a direction and walked. The crunch of her feet was loud in the silent forest. Not even a bird stirred as she made her way through the fog-clad trees. The unnatural stillness pummeled against her tightly-grasped fear.
Orlagh had been lost before, but her situation was more ominous this time. She had no grandfather to come find her this time, no troop of warriors to rescue her. Tears of frustration and terror threatened to push through, but she swallowed them back and strode more forcefully forward.
“You seem to be on a mission, human child.”
She whirled at the voice, but couldn’t find the source. The words rebounded strangely in the mist. There was an odd echo, a double timbre as if there were two or three people saying the same words at the same time. They burrowed into her mind, and she gritted her teeth.
“Show yourself! Only a coward hides in the mist.”
A resonant laugh came from all around her. The trees rustled as if a large creature landed on the branches, but she noticed nothing. Faint points of light swirled in the distance to the left, and then to the right. Then she was surrounded by dancing sparks of red, blue and green. They shimmered and eddied, making her dizzy with dread and wonder. Small bursts of heat and cold made her skin prickle, and she rubbed her arms furiously to rid the sensation.
“Stop that!”
“And why should I listen to your command, human child? You have no power over me. Unless you wish to bargain for my obedience?”
Orlagh recalled many stories of bargains with the Fae, and none of them turned out well for the humans involved. She knew full well not to open herself to such a fate. She turned around, trying to address all the churning lights at once. “No! I h
ave no wish to bargain with the Fae. I know better than that. You can’t trap me!”
The laugh echoed again, lilting up and down in an eerie descant, pressing into her mind and her panic until she needed to scream. A dark, amorphous figure formed in the trees. The outline appeared roughly human-shaped but kept shifting as she tried to focus.
“Very well, human child. You may change your mind quite soon. Keep me in mind when you do.”
For one horrible moment, Orlagh almost asked the creature for directions to the camp, but that was precisely what she must not do. She would find her own way to her husband-to-be and her wedding and owe nothing to evil tricksters.
The figure faded, and the lights dimmed with one last whirl around her. They swarmed up, up into the darkening mists. A boom rattled her bones, and they were gone.
Orlagh stood for several minutes before blinking several times, attempting to banish the fuzziness from her mind and calm her panicked heart.
She turned around and decided the ocean should be that way. She had no true reason for her choice, but she committed to her decision and strode forward. An hour later, she admitted defeat and turned to the left to repeat her attempt.
A furious rustling over her in the mist made her cry out before Eolande’s white-eyed raven swooped in and landed on her shoulder. Her terror turned into blessed relief as she almost crushed the bird in gratitude.
“Tawnith! Oh, Tawnith, I am so thrilled you found me!” She continued to praise him as he directed her home, though her thoughts still came slowly. She wished she had her bag so she could give the delightful raven a treat.
Two hours later, she finally found the camp. The mists still clung thickly, and she was soaked from a combination of the fog, her own sweat and fear, and perhaps even a few tears.
Yana sat by the firepit, repairing a tent with a thick, curved needle and a bundle of sinew. When Orlagh arrived, she dropped her project and stood, her arms open wide.
“Child! You look as if you’d met your own ghost. Where in the name of Danu’s green earth have you been?” The older woman hugged Orlagh tightly until the girl stopped shaking. For once, Orlagh didn’t mind being called child. Yana’s arms wrapped her in warmth and safety.
Finnegan sat nearby on a stump, carving away at a piece of pine. He stood when Yana finally let Orlagh go. He gripped both her shoulders and stared into her eyes. His own were black and sharp, and after a few moments of intense scrutiny, he growled. “The girl’s been Fae-witched, Yana. Quick, get some iron.”
Glancing around wildly for several moments, Yana snatched up the cooking pot. The heavy cauldron still held some tepid water from the morning tea. She dumped this out into the grass and handed the pot to Finnegan. Orlagh stood still as he rubbed the pot over her eyes, down the front of her chest, and on the palms of both hands. He stared into her eyes again and then ran the pot down her spine. As he finished, some of her mind fog faded. “There, that’ll do the trick. He must have been a powerful ‘un. Did he touch ye?”
Startled, Orlagh shook her head.
“Hmm. Good, then. Did ye talk to him? Did he offer ye anything?”
“Yes, it… he… talked to me. He offered me help, but I refused.”
The old man nodded, his eyes narrowing. “Good. Good. Were ye polite about it?”
She glanced down at her feet. “Not especially, no.”
He grunted. “Well, hopefully, the creature will nae punish ye for that bit. If ye didn’t take what he offered, ye’ll be fair safe, true enough. Yana, get the child an iron pin, just in case.”
Yana rummaged in her tent and returned with a small iron brooch. The adornment was a simple penannular circle for a cloak. She pinned the brooch on Orlagh’s léine. “Wear this at all times for the next few moons, at least. Even when you sleep. Fae should stay away from you.”
Orlagh nodded, unable to even say thank you. The Fae were dangerous, but her friends’ reactions brought her peril into stark reality. She shivered for what might have happened.
Remembering Tawnith, she rustled through the food stores for an apple. Yana raised her eyebrow, so she said, “The raven is the only reason I found my way back.”
Temuirr emerged from the still-thick mist. “What’s all this, then? Already giving the bride a wedding gift?”
Yana turned on him. “I’m protecting your bride! Which is more than you’ve done this day. A Fae assaulted her in the forest! You’re not even married yet, and you’re letting her walk right into danger, brother mine!”
He took several steps back, his eyes wide and his hands out. “Ho, there, Yana! You had charge of her this morning, for her wedding outfit, did you not? I’m not her gaoler, to keep her under lock and key. She has a mind of her own, and a lovely one at that!” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait, a Fae?”
Temuirr turned to Orlagh. He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. “I perceive no trace of it now.”
Finnegan snorted. “Aye, and we brushed her with iron as soon as she returned, did we not? Much help you were.” He sat back on his stump and retrieved the sea serpent he’d been carving, long and sinuous, the head gazing back at the tail.
“Then that’s all fine then. Did you give her some iron to carry?”
Yana placed her hands on her hips. “What do you think I was pinning to her when you arrived?”
Temuirr grunted and took Orlagh’s hand. “Then you are as safe as we can make you, my dear heart. Whatever possessed you to go wandering in the forest in the mists, on Beltaine of all days?”
She couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I didn’t mean to, honestly! I got lost searching for the camp.”
“Stop chastising her, Temuirr. She made it back safe, despite everything. Now, where did the other girl get off to? She was to be collecting mushrooms with Tam and Cam, no?”
The three in question tumbled into the clearing at the mention of their names, chasing and giggling. Eolande appeared considerably mussed, and her clothing stained with dirt, as were the boys’. Tawnith stood on Eolande’s head, his wings unfurled for balance. The twins’ faces grew red. All three carried empty baskets.
Yana surveyed the three of them with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. “And you’ve all wasted the morning, I presume? Here it’s nearly time for the ceremony, and you’re all a mess. Come now, time to get clean, pretty and pristine for the day. Well, as pristine as you can get after all that… activity.”
Eolande giggled and stood up straight. “The morning’s not wasted, Yana! Our activity was all essential activity. As you say, today is Beltaine. This area, in particular, could do with a lot of fertility rite. All this rock needs every bit of help we can give!”
Tam elbowed Cam in the ribs and the second boy shoved his brother back. Yana turned on them. “You two! You know better than all this. I’m surprised at you.”
They dropped their gazes, but their smiles didn’t fade. Cam glanced at Eolande, and his smile deepened when she winked at him.
Beltaine has always been a time for a-maying in the fields, sympathetic magic for encouraging crops. Tradition held a young woman who lay with a young man on May eve in the dirt of a freshly plowed field would result in fat crops and many babies. Eolande must have convinced the boys it was their duty to participate in such a ritual. They didn’t appear especially upset by this turn of events. In fact, they looked game for another round. Orlagh’s cheeks grew warm. Perhaps Temuirr would want to perform a similar rite this evening after they married.
Yana clapped her hands. “Time to stop this foolishness and get prepared! Eolande, you’re in charge of preparing the meal. Keep that raven of yours out of the berries. Finnegan, you’re to decorate the arch you built yesterday. Tam and Cam, help Eolande… no, on second thought, best if I keep you away from such temptation. You help me clear the dancing area. We’ll have some guests from the village to help our celebration. Orlagh, into my tent. You’re to stay away from Temuirr for the next few hours. Temuirr, get your glad rags on. You must be eminently presentable by dus
k. Get to work, everyone!”
With meek smiles and knowing glances, each person went to their assigned task. Orlagh felt useless sitting in Yana’s tent. Her wedding outfit hung on a peg near the door, and she examined the precious garment closely. The fine fabric weighed almost nothing. The silk was so delicate; surely the first drop of rain would dissolve the léine like cobwebs. Beside it hung a belt of braided vines, some still with ivy leaves clinging to the stalk. Orlagh had never seen the like. Perhaps the belt was something from Yana’s and Temuirr’s family tradition, or maybe something Eolande made. A simple, white chemise for under the léine hung next to that, with some soft leather slippers, dyed dark blue to match.
Suddenly she missed her grandfather terribly. He should be here, to witness her wedding. He was her only close family. She even missed his gruff discipline. Her throat closed and she swallowed hard. Despite her efforts, tears dripped freely. Barely two moons she’d left the ringfort in such an angry huff, but those two moons seemed like an age. Her entire life had changed in that two moons, and would change again, permanently, by the end of the day.
The ringfort had been her only home. What was home, truly? Wasn’t home where your family was? The physical location didn’t matter. The structure, the things you collected didn’t matter. The people you loved were your home, no matter where they might roam. Ancient heroes wandered all over the known world, and yet came home to their loved ones, even if they’d moved to a different place. By that logic, this was her new home. Her Temuirr loved her, Eolande loved her, Yana loved her. Even Finnegan occasionally threw a half-smile and a grunt in her general direction. For him, that half-smile was high praise indeed.
This was her home now.
Orlagh took a deep breath and peeled off her sweaty, soiled clothing. She’d best wash and dry well before she put that incredible fabric next to her skin. She prayed it didn’t dissolve.
Misfortune of Song: Druid's Brooch Series: #5 Page 15
