The old man sat easily on a small rise above the celebration going on
below. He was dressed in his finest kilt and tunic, as he always was on
the day of the celebration. Smoke from his gnarled pipe wreathed his
balding head as though meaning to hide him from view completely. Though
old, his eyes were sharp, and scanned the crowd below happily, watching
the townsfolk enjoy their merrymaking.
None of the faces were familiar to him this festival, but
the joy of the young was contagious. He smiled, causing his pipe to tip
dangerously and tapped his foot along with the jigs and reels of the
young. It was almost as though time melted away from his features with the
gesture, showing a glimpse of the man he was in his youth.
"Oy, Connor!" A voice said from behind him.
"Invited down this year, were ye?"
Another man, equally as aged, though a bit less
distinguished in demeanor, and infinitely less old, walked slowly down
from the top of the rise. His movements were a bit halting, but the look
of joy in his eyes was evident.
Connor kept at his foot tapping, but shook his head
slightly.
"No Seamus, not this year I wasn't." He said
lightly. "But I thought to meself I might just stop by an' take a bit
o' a peek around, if you get me meaning?"
"Aye, I do." Seamus said jovially. "'Tis a
grand party, it is."
Both men sat in silence for a bit, simply watching the
villagers enjoy the festivities. The teens and young adults in the group
had taken to dancing around the twin bonfires, young men and women alike
smiling longingly at their hopeful partners.
Seamus lit his pipe with a smile of contentment and leaned
back on the hillside. The smoke from his pipe dancing with Connor's in the
air above them much like the people below. He idly picked a clover from
nearby and twirled it between his thumb and index finger as he idled
alongside his old friend.
"Were ye invited this year then?" Connor said
finally.
"Me?" Seamus replied. "Aye, invited by Mary
McCullough was I, though for the life o' me I couldn't tell ye why."
"Is she kit or kin, then?" Connor said with a
raised brow, turning his head to look at his friend for the first time.
"I expect it might be tha' she is. The family has
gotten a wee bit larger these past few seasons."
"Aye, they do grow a bit over time, don't they?"
Connor said wistfully, the smile on his face growing a tad larger.
Below them, the townsfolk laughed uproariously as some
poor lad managed to fall into the barrel while bobbing for apples, then
burst into a round of applause when his head popped out, apple in teeth
and grinning like a fool.
"Isn't that the good Mary McCullough over
there?" Connor said with a raised brow. The impish grin on his face
spoke volumes. "Aye, I think it is, Seamus. But who's that with her
then?"
"Why… No! it canno' be!" Exclaimed Seamus.
"Tha's me grandson with good Mary, it is!"
"Why yes Seamus, I think yer right about tha."
Connor said with a chuckle. "And might I suggest tha' it seems the
right time for ye to go an' see 'em. Considerin' tha' ring on his finger'n
all."
"Why tha' good fer nothin'!" Cried Seamus,
climbing to his feet. "I'm for givin' him a piece o' my mind, I am.
Could hae at least told me last Samhain!"
Connor chuckled under his breath as he watched his friend
hobbled his way down the hill. He wondered idly when Seamus would let go
of that limp and simply walk, since he knew quite well there was nothing
that could cause it. Seamus hadn't been with the rest long, though, He'd
learn.
He stifled a laugh as he watched old Seamus dancing and
prattling away at his grandson. Young David was a fine lad, tall and broad
and strong, but a bit slow, apparently, as he seemed not to notice his
grandfather at all.
The more the lad ignored him, the madder Seamus got. It
could have turned into something quite enjoyable, Connor mused, until
young Mary McCullough, or should is be Mary McDougal, seemed to grow a bit
pale and drug the young lad into the circle in the center of the square.
All the while Seamus kept his up ranting at a fevered pitch.
"Ah, but life can be complicated, can't it now?"
Connor muttered mostly to himself and the wind, a brighter smile on his
face than he'd had throughout the evening.
He tapped his pipe and took a match to it again, watching
the little turnip lanterns of the children bobbing around in the thinning
crowd below. Here and there the older townsmen and women were drifting in
ones and twos back to their homes, leaving the celebration to those with
more stamina.
Connor watched as the Elder Taggart limped slowly back to
his small lonely house. For the first time this evening, the shadow of a
frown crossed his face. He'd have to visit with him before he left. The
old man might not be here for another Samhain, and Connor wanted to wish
him luck before he went. He shook his head slightly, as if to shake
something loose, and went back to watching the children dancing around
with their lanterns.
His smile returned soon enough. The little ones were the
reason he sat here on the rise. He enjoyed nothing more than watching them
dance and sing, darting around in their little black dresses and tunics.
Some wore masks and some did not, but each was just as likely as the next
to steal a pastry from the baker's stall, and each time he saw it, he
chuckled again.
Connor lay back against the clover, watching the stars
sparkle in the heavens as he'd done when he was a child. He remembered
wondering what secrets they might hold, what great mysteries the
constellations could reveal if he only knew how to hear them. It was the
one thing he had never in his many years tired of doing.
He'd lain like that for a while when he heard a shuffling
noise coming from the bottom of the rise. He sat, staring in disbelief at
what he saw coming up the hill.
A small girl dressed all in black was walking very
carefully toward him. In her arms she carried a large platter of food from
the banquet, complete with a tankard of ale that he knew she was most
likely not supposed to have.
She walked slowly up the rise, stopping directly in front
of Connor. She set the tray on the ground to his left, and then sat on the
other side of it from him. She took a honey cake from it and started
chewing thoughtfully.
He sat silently and watched her. She was obviously trying
to decide something, and he didn't want to interrupt. She stared at a spot
in the clover inches from her feet, yet her huge green eyes seemed to gaze
at nothing at all.
"You've been up here a long time." She said
finally. "You dinna come down with the others. I thought you might
like a bit to eat."
"Ah, for tha' I thank ye Lassie." Connor said
honestly. "It has been a while since I've had a bite."
"I thought as much." She said, still staring at
the spot before her toes.
Connor looked over the little girl carefully. She was just
a wisp of a thing. Her red hair flowed over her pale skin in a rush of
unruly waves. She couldn't have been more than 8
years, if a day. Her shadow flowed across the hillside like a veil in the
moonlight, accentuating her fine features even more. It seemed to flicker
and move ever so slightly in the faint firelight from below.
She took a deep breath before continuing.
"Collin Riley says that Samhain is for the old folks.
He says that spirits don't walk, and that the wee people aren't real, but
I know he's wrong."
"I see the wee people all the time and then tonight…
Well there's been a LOT of spitits walkin' the square, talkin' to their
kin. I see them! They say that makes me daft!" She turned and looked
at him for the first time, cheeks flushed, green eyes brimming with tears.
"Am I daft? Am I?"
Connor laughed openly, his pipe falling forgotten by his
side. "No lassie, I wouldna' call ye daft. That's somethin' I of all
could never do!"
"Ye tell this Collin Riley from me tha' you've got
somethin' they call the sight. It's a gift child, an' not one te be taken
lightly. And after tha' ye tell yer mam. Ye hear?"
She nodded feverishly, tears rolling down her fine face.
"Good!" Said Connor fiercely. "Go now,
Lassie. I need te be goin' soon, an' ye should be off te' sleep."
The last was said with a smile, and the little girl jumped
up and sped down the rise. She stopped halfway down and turned to face
him.
"If ye're interested," She said in a voice loud
enough to carry to everyone in the square. "Ye're invited te next
years festival, and any that I'm at!" With that, she nodded and ran
back into the crowd, trailing her shadow behind her.
"Ye might as well wait." He said to her shadow
softly. "My blessings are on that lassie, and I intend to visit her
again."
Her shadow quivered on the ground, stretching thinner with
each step she took. It finally slithered away, rapidly shooting from the
rise toward the darker parts of the village.
Connor nodded. The Elder Taggart would have to hope
someone else found time to wish him luck. He only had this one night, and
one gift to give. The girl would live a happy life, and next year he would
walk in the square with her, and he'd had enough for one year.
He stood, wandering up over the crest of the hill, fading
from sight as he did so.
