Awaken The Lord Of The Dance
Celtic Dream
"Shhhhh! Don't wake
him with such idle chatter!" Said the Little Spirit angrily as she waved the
children away with her hand, as if she were brushing away flies. The children
resumed their giggling but turned to their heels to run as the Little Spirit,
a mere slip of a child bathed in gold, dug her hands into the pouch that hung
around her hip, her hands gathering some of her magical dust. Today was not
a day to be idle and silly in the town of Ailleel for the First of May celebration
was in two days. Already the town was abuzz with activity as the farmers counted
the ears of corn, representing the bountiful harvest of the past year, and
the herders were making sure all heads of cattle were accounted for.
The Little Spirit
had appeared today by the ailim tree after disappearing from the town for
almost a year, weathering the seasons elsewhere in middle earth. With her
appearance, she had brought a guest with her, now asleep on the soft ground,
his body covered by the tree's leaves, its branches having lowered itself
down to be the man's blanket and guardian. The last time she had appeared
to the townspeople was almost the exact same time as last year's First of
May celebration, or the Beltane festival. She graced the town with her presence
and even sprinkled the youth with her magical dust which, to the elders' dismay,
drove the youngsters into the forests for flowers and the inevitable 'handfasting',
a Greenwood marriage common during that time of year.
The golden child sat
cross-legged on the ground next to the sleeping figure and watched the townspeople
go about their business for the coming celebration. Her eyes were almost like
slits in the morning light and as she scanned the landscape, she saw the druid's
daughter running between vendors and friends, a massive dog following right
behind her. The child's eyes widened at the sight and a smile slowly crept
to her lips and even her pointed ears seemed to twitch with anticipation.
"Ah," she thought
to herself. "The queen of May herself, Saoirse." Suddenly she was on her feet
and as the druid's daughter was almost running past, the Little Spirit brought
a flute to her lips and played a quick note, attracting the girl's attention.
The druid's daughter
gasped at the sight of the Little Spirit and the dog almost crashed into her
as it vainly attempted to halt itself, its front legs straight out in front
of him, and its hind legs in a sitting position. Yet he didn't seem to be
stopping. Saoirse felt the lumbering dog against her leg, almost throwing
her out of balance, but her attention was riveted towards the return of the
Little Spirit.
Saoirse, a girl born
with soft blond curls and an arresting set of blue eyes laughed and bounded
towards the ailim tree although the dog, Luis, remained where he was, whining
softly.
"Little Spirit," she
breathed excitedly, trying to catch her breath. "You've returned to Ailleel."
She walked up towards the golden child and stopped when she caught a glimpse
of the sleeping figure partially covered by a blanket of leaves. She could
see that a curious rabbit, its white fur spotted with brown, had also found
the figure pretty interesting as it sniffed about. Suddenly a cluster of leaves
shook, its leaves rustling noisily, and in a flash, the rabbit was gone.
"Beautiful Saoirse,
are you ready for the dance?" Asked the Little Spirit and Saoirse nodded,
her face turning crimson. "I am sure you will do well with your role this
year, my child."
"If Morrighan, the
gypsy, had been here in time for the choosing, Little Spirit, it would have
been her, I suppose." She said, craning her neck to see past the Little Spirit's
head to see more of the guest still asleep.
The Little Spirit
smiled and touched the young girl, her hand cool against the Saoirse's own
warm skin, still flushed from her romp with Luis, who now was lying on his
belly, his head between his paws. "The Queen of May is chosen, and that is
what matters, dear Saoirse."
The sleeping figure
moved, and Saoirse almost jumped back, as she saw a glimpse of light blond
hair, and tanned skin, almost golden in comparison. The Little Spirit watched,
amused, at Saoirse's expressions and as she watched the druid's daughter crane
her neck even further to look, the golden child snapped her fingers. The branches
of the ailim tree that had served as the man's blanket of leaves suddenly
lifted itself from the man's body and Saoirse could see that the man was indeed
handsome with golden hair that matched his sun golden skin. Slowly, the man
opened his eyes and Saoirse could see that his eyes were like the blue sky
above her, a shade so warm and friendly she could not help but smile.
He was dressed in
a white cotton shirt that laced in the front, its sleeves wide and cuffed
at the wrists. Over his shirt was a dark leather jerkin, also laced in the
front, and he wore a pair of dark trousers and black boots, with silver-capped
heels. At that, she frowned slightly, having never seen anything like it.
But she thought he looked very dashing, just the same.
When he looked up
at her, Saoirse gasped in surprise for his features were breathtaking, and
when he finally rose to his feet, she took a step backwards and felt her heel
hit a wayward root of the ailim tree. She felt herself falling as she tried
to suppress a scream but fall she did, and on a soft bed of daisies that happened
to be right behind her.
"My lady," the man
spoke, a worried look creeping over his face. He reached out his hand to assist
her and she took it, allowing him to pull her up from the ground and as he
did, she found herself staring at his eyes, their faces barely inches from
each other. Saoirse held her breath.
"Are you all right,
my lady?" he asked. "You seem as if you've lost something." He said with a
mischievous glint in his eyes.
Saoirse looked around
her and found that the Little Spirit was gone, nowhere to be found. "I think
I must have lost my mind." She stammered. "I thought this was smooth ground
and yet I tripped over a root, and…the Little Spirit was just here."
"Ah," said the man.
"The Little Spirit, the elf of the ailim tree of Ailleel. I have heard of
her indeed." He looked away and heaved a sigh. "Now I know where I remembered
her from."
Saoirse smiled. "Her
reputation precedes her, my lord." She said, recalling tales by her own grandmother
regarding the naughty Little Spirit. Her grandmother, a great druidess, had
once said that the Little Spirit was an incarnation of Eire herself, in child
like form, nursing the dreams of the land around her.
"I am Michael du Cahiri,
my lady," he introduced himself, bowing before her and Saoirse could hear
Luis start to bark, yet not moving any closer to the tree. The poor dog had
always been afraid of the enchanted ailim tree, as did other pets in the village.
"Lord Michael of the
Stone Keep," she whispered under her breath and introduced herself, as he
took her hand and kissed it. "I am Saoirse, my lord Michael."
Michael raised an
eyebrow and smiled. "Ah, daughter of the druid Mil," he said and released
her hand gently, watching a crimson shade take over Saoirse's features.
Suddenly Saoirse remembered
her errand, and her eyes widened as she gasped. "Hawthorn branches! I was
supposed to get hawthorn branches!" She begun turning away from him and stopped,
looking at him. She did need some help gathering them, she thought to herself.
"I apologize for that outburst, Lord Michael. Would you care to join me, if
you have no pressing matters to attend to?"
The man shrugged his
shoulders and nodded. "It would be my pleasure, Saoirse. 'Tis something I
have never done before, mayday or not."
During the first day
of summer, or the First of May, people gathered branches of the hawthorn tree
to decorate their homes, Saoirse begun explaining as they both made their
way into the edge of the forest and this time, Luis walked obediently behind
them. Hawthorne branches symbolized hope, pleasure and protection for the
rest of the year. Although it was forbidden to break or take hawthorn branches
into the home during the year, this taboo was lifted especially on May eve.
As they continued
to walk, finally finding a tree of Saoirse's own choosing, they saw a group
of men hauling a large long trunk through the forest and into the village.
Michael could see it was a similar tree to the one Saoirse was stripping branches
from.
"And I presume that
is for the maypole, my lady?" he asked, cocking his head to the direction
of the men. He watched her reach up for a branch, barely touching it as she
now stood on her toes.
Smiling to himself,
Michael reached for the branch, bringing himself closer to her body, as he
snapped the branch from the main trunk. He could smell the faint scent of
almond oil and roses as he moved away from her and it made him feel almost
giddy, as if the oils were engulfing his senses. As she continued to pick
out her branches, Michael noticed the eyes of sapphire and lips of rowanberries
against her face, and he felt an unfamiliar warmth invading his body. He could
see the outline of her body against her yellow dress, its straight cut design
accentuating every curve. The dress was a straight tunic-like garment that
had laces on both sides of her waist, which Saoirse tightened snugly about
her, and the skirts, long and full, fell in graceful folds by her feet, its
edges adorned with Celtic stitching.
Watching Saoirse,
her blond locks falling over her bare shoulders, and her blue eyes sparkling
behind thick lashes, Michael could feel tranquility overcome him, a feeling
that had long been so elusive to him the past season. He could not understand
why his heart was pounding inside his chest, like a herd of wild horses running
through his body, yearning to break free of the confines of his ribcage. He
could hear the thundering hooves hammering in his ears and even her beauty
seemed to threaten to take over his breathing.
What is going on?
Michael asked himself and looked away from her, his senses going haywire.
This was something he had never felt before, and it frightened him. He was
a man who was always in control of his own destiny, his subjects, and his
castle. This was reaction he was not expecting caused by a mere slip of a
girl. His heart continued hammering wildly inside his chest and Michael struggled
to breathe normally, noting the throbbing in his temples.
Was this love? He
questioned himself, knowing he did not know the answer. Yet he had never felt
such feelings overtake his entire being before, as if he was caught in an
avalanche of emotions long denied for fear of losing his composure before
the people he was raised to lead.
"Are you alright,
Lord Michael?" she asked him, a look of concern clouding her face as she brought
a slender hand against his arm. "You look pale. It must be the travelling."
Michael nodded faintly
and took a deep breath as he thanked Saoirse for her help. If this be love,
he said to himself, then so be it. I cannot fight such a force. I cannot deny
myself such a wonderful feeling, which sends one to the brink of insanity,,
yet allowing him only to teeter dangerously close, yet never completely losing
himself.
They continued walking
towards another tree she had spotted and Michael remained silent, caught in
his own thoughts of confused emotions.
"What brings you here,
lord Michael of the Stone Keep?" she asked him suddenly, bringing him back
to the present. Silently, he thanked her for breaking his reverie, unsure
of his ability to accept his newly discovered feelings. "You are a few days
away from your own manor, and I believe your brother and friends would not
be happy to have you here all alone, sleeping beneath the enchanted ailim
tree. If it were not for the Little Spirit, I would have thought you mad."
Michael offered to
carry the pile of branches she held in her hands and she passed it towards
him, their hands touching slightly. "I don't remember it too well at the moment,
Saoirse," he replied, unsure of the answer himself. "The Little Spirit appeared
in my great hall one night…I don't even remember how long I have been asleep."
They begun walking
back towards the village, and alongside them, Luis had now gathered the courage
to sniff Michael's boots, the heel hitting him occasionally in the nose each
time Michael took a step forward. Saoirse laughed and Michael smiled, as the
dog seemed oblivious to the impending movement of his heel as he took each
step. Finally when the dog had gone a bit too close to Michael's foot, his
heel hit the dog's nose and Luis yelped, although not too loudly.
"She came to you?"
Asked Saoirse incredulously. "I've never heard that one before. Although we
never hear too much about what the Little Spirit really does, except for the
naughty magic of her fairy dust."
"I have not the faintest
idea, my dear Saoirse." Countered Michael as he arranged the branches on the
crook of his right arm. "But she did come nevertheless, dug her hands into
her pockets and out I was like a blown out candle. And I don't remember exactly
how long it's been."
"I wonder why," whispered
Saoirse as they finally reached the hill of the ailim tree and she took the
branches from Michael's arms, balancing them on both her arms as she did.
From a distance, she could hear the druid calling out her name. Luis had now
stood in full attention and now begun barking again.
"I shall look forward
to seeing you again, my dear Saoirse." Michael said as she begun walking away
from him. Saoirse looked back and flashed him a shy smile before finally heading
home, wondering what on earth she would have to tell the druid on why she
was late once again.
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