I really just liked the idea of burning your problems away. I'm such a pyromaniac.
“Words have power,” Carradoc said.
Him being a Druid, I believed him.
“With words, you can do anything. You
can control a man's heart, tame a beast, even change your form. A
skill with words will get you what you want, but the most noble use
of the silver tongue is to praise the gods and goddesses. That is why
Druids use their skills to worship, and why the best speakers are
Druids.”
He then proceeded to tell the tale of
the children of Lir. In testament to his silver tongue, the fire
through shadows on the ground to help with the telling of the story.
The silhouettes of the four children writhed as they were turned into
swans and when Carradoc talked of their beautiful voices the fire
didn't crackle but sang sweeter than any bird. I would look back and
forth between the fire and the shadow actors, trying to see the
shapes in the flames, but the fire looked the same as it always did.
If anyone could help me, he could.
As the rest of the village slipped away
to their homes, I crept closer to him. While several families had
offered their home to him, Carradoc had refused. He said he wanted to
sleep under the stars with a bed of earth.
He was stirring the embers of the fire
before I spoke up. “Um, hello Druid Carradoc.”
“Hello dear.” He didn't look up,
and I took the extra seconds to make sure my bruises were covered and
try to tame my hair.
I shuffled closer to the fire. “I
was wondering if you could help me with something.”
Carradoc looked up then, and I expected
the same look in his eyes as the rest of the villagers as they look
at my dirty body and ratty clothes. But his face held no such emotion
and I felt as if he was seeing the me from five years ago, healthy
and well taken care of.
“What do you need help with?”
“The story you told, about Lir's
children from Aeb...I have a similar problem.”
“You and your twin are going to be
cursed into swans by your aunt.”
“Not exactly...” How could I
explain to a stranger that I was the village orphan, taken in my
uncle who did all he could to see that I died without actually doing
the deed? That I only ate when other families were kind enough to
give me scraps, and only slept warm when nestled next to fully wooled
sheep?
But maybe I didn't have to, because
Carradoc seemed to understand.
“Come closer child.”
I moved into the weak light. The
Druid's eyes roved over my bruises, my stringy hair, the dress
straining against the seems of previously fixed holes.
“What exactly do you want to do?”
“I want to make my problems
disappear.” And if that involved getting rid of my uncle, all the
better.
Carradoc frowned, no doubt his power of
words letting him know what I was thinking under the surface. “I
will not help a young lady commit murder, but I can help you with
your problems.”
He dug into the small pack he had
brought with him and took out a scroll. Carradoc unrolled it, keeping
it in place with small stones and then coaxed the fire to come alive
again. He then stuck the end of a stick in the flames and when it was
charred handed it to me.
“Write your problems. Very specific
ones, but not people.”
I frowned, but then started to mark the
runes on the scroll, Carradoc watching over my shoulder to make sure
I followed his rules.
Hunger. Old clothes. No bed. People
ignoring me. Being touched when not wanted. Lice. Being dirty all the
time. Bruises.
Nodding, the Druid took the parchment
and held it over the small fire which was now dying down again.
“Fire, element of rebirth and destruction, gift of the life
bringing Sun, destroy this past and bring a new future.” With that,
he dropped it in the fire.
I watched as the flames licked at the
edges of my list, and then it all lit up at once in a burst of heat.
I watched my charcoal written runes return to the ashes. It was
quicker than any other burning I had seen. Ten seconds and only ash
was left.
“Not what?” I asked.
Carradoc smiled. “Look at your
dress.”
I did. It was no longer dirty, and all
my patched holes had disappeared. While I had long gotten used to the
feeling of lice on my head, I could no longer feel the crawling
sensation. Forgetting Carradoc was so close, I pulled up my dress to
look at my thighs. No bruises. Same for my arms.
Carradoc laughed at my wonder. “I'm
pretty sure that when you walk home, you'll discover a bed and a meal
waiting for you.”
I took his hand in gratitude. “Thank
you, thank you so much Druid Carradoc.”
He smiled down at me. “No problem.
And maybe in a year or two, you can think of joining my order.”
Maybe I would. I just became a loyal
follower of Bridgit.
--------------------
I have quite a fondness for Celtic culture, if you couldn't tell. But the ideas behind it are so fun to play with.
0 comments:
Post a Comment