. . . .
The Morrigan means, ‘Phantom Queen.’ Viewed as one of the destructive aspects of the Triple Goddess. Her other forms are Badhbh, which means ‘Frenzy,’ and Nemhain, which means ‘Crow or Raven.’ The Morrigan appears as a singular being as both a war goddess and enchantress with prophetic powers,
comparable to Circe, Kali or a female version of Loki.
She would act charming to heroes when in fact she was intent upon their undoing.
. . . .
"Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy,
Lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!”
Shakespeare's: Merry Wives of Windsor
* * * *
Emlyn found herself still catching up on her birthday, weeks later, like. One thing had led to another and it was the 30th suddenly, and again, she was with friends celebrating All Hallows Season, their mutual birthdays, and Celtic New Year's.
Tomorrow being All Hallow's Ev'en. Hallowe'en. Samhain.
--At Last...!
Emlyn couldn't help her wee self. It had been quite the solar return...this past year had been a year of changes and passages, in many ways. It took long and long to catch up with oneself, she was discovering.
Howsomever, in the midst of all this activity, she would suddenly, at times, find herself standing quite still.
It was most strange...she'd always either been on the old work schedule/routine, or...? She couldn't recall any other. But lately...it was rather incredible; to find a moment without duty or demands of work. Yes, most odd, indeed.
She rather liked it. She sighed. Closest she'd been to la Villa Encantada.
And, she was actually becoming excited.
This year's Samhain she felt inclined toward honoring Dia de los Muertos and bringing the remembrances of ancestors.
She'd also heard from Jeanne and Shannon; they were en route, and: Allyn's Merrie Band o'Bards were hired on by the Leeks for the evening's entertainment and dancing.
(Perhaps Em had put in a word, true). So, for the Cornish, 'Allantide' would abide with the Leeks, indeed.
She'd recently received a letter from Jack however, wherein he'd hoped that she would 'make it out here to Jethro's Danish Welsh Greek Amphitheatre, for their Halloween Hoedown!' Well!
Em thought about that. No mention of, 'I'll gladly meet you at the station and we'll away to the most magical night of the year...!'
No.
Just: she could 'make it out there'.
Hm. She may have been born after 1860, but she wasn't born yesterday...
And so, as custom did dance trippingly, so did Em follow the tune, and find herself meeting up with some old druid pals at a well-known eatery in midtown; where, all agreed, the best cornmeal crust pies were to be found, and well worth the wait.
It was warm, crowded, dark and delicious. The company found a corner booth and ordered libations.
'...I'd like to, I truly would, Emlyn fach, but, the City, is a long road. If, however, the druids back home decide to make the trip, I may show yet, we'll see...' Clare took the conversation inside with them as they settled in to the companionable clamor.
'Yes, San Francisco is becoming home now.' Em allowed. 'Well, for time being, at least...I have to make a choice sometime. Too much work otherwise, trying to live in two places! But, the amphitheatre was a great success, you know!'
She had to give the lads that. Not that she hadn't helped as well!
'I'd head on, but, I've already made plans in the City with the Leeks. It's the Welsh in me, can't pass up the Leeks!' This gave them a larf all round.
'You're always welcome at Nob Hill House! Now or any other time,' she told her friends.
'So, Thomas the Rhymer, what be your plans this Nos Galan Gaeaf?'
'Avoiding crossroads at midnight, stiles, cutty black sows, graveyards and mausoleums,' was Tom's cryptic reply.
Emlyn recited:
'"A cutty black sow
On every stile
Spinning and carding
Every Allhallows' Eve"'
'That's the one.' Thomas nodded, unfolding a parchment wrapped about a square of chocolate, and broke it into three pieces. Each took a piece and let it melt smoothly upon the tongue.
'Your tongue will dance trippingly now.' Tom informed them.
'Diloch!' Em thanked him for sharing of the sacrament, the sacred herb-infused chocolate used for skrying this time of year, or simply for merry-making and celebration. Em did use it for all. But she had hoped for a special connection this year, either with her Triad or, perhaps, as Daryl had foretold, if the Sidhe did indeed ride out upon a rade again...and if Gwydion were there, she might just save him a dance...or twa.
She fell into recitation once more--
(She blamed her tripping tongue:)
'"But as it fell out on last Hallowe'en
When the Seely Court was ridin' by
The queen lighted down on a gowan bank
Not far from the tree where I wont to lye..."'
Clare looked up at her then, 'Are you expecting a visit from the Gentry this year, Em?'
'More hoping than expecting let us say. I may...you know, just make a space of welcoming...just in case they do Ride...' Em was becoming flushed, she felt. Goodness, it was warm in here...
Thomas and Clare exchanged glances. Tom spoke up, 'Well, I wouldn't doubt then, that they do show...and, you may as well now know, that however prepared you are, you surmise, you may find yourself still quite taken by surprise...'
. . . .
Emlyn was still thinking on this the next day when she was preparing her pumpkin breads for the feast that night at the Leek's...let's see...some with nutmeats and some without, (she hoped that Clare would show), and added just a bit of vanilla, molasses and ginger, nutmeg and cloves...that did the trick. And, popping the loaves into the oven, she washed up and removed her apron. Now, what was next on her to-do list for the evening's preparation prior to celebration?
'You know I don't mind cooking with the calabasitas...' Rosa stood, hands on hips, surveying 'her' kitchen. Em smiled; she and Daryl had sworn to her that they would deal with the
pumpkins, fearing she might flee...but Rosa actually loved them. And there weren't so many of them this year...(so far).
'I know, Rosita...' Em put an arm about her shoulders. 'We just wanted to make sure we wouldn't scare you off!' She squeezed her friend in a quick hug. 'You are coming tonight, aren't you?'
'Oh, you bet your boots!' Rosa grinned, taking a seat upon a counter stool. 'I may even dress up!'
'Wonderful! I'd love to help you, if you like!' Em was always thrilled with costuming.
'I am going as Senorita Calavera. You may help paint my face, if you like. And, come November, we'll make sugar skulls.' She regarded Em, 'Are you going in costume as well?'
Em wasn't sure...perhaps she would mix things up abit, not having anything particular in mind. 'I don't know. I think I shall just play about and see what I come up with. If you have any suggestions, let me know...'
Rosa nodded. 'We'll search the closets,' her eyes traveled upstairs, 'and see what we can unearth later, si?'
. . . .
Later found them both upstairs with all about them nearly completely covered by clothing; dresses, skirts, petticoats, scarves, shawls, shoes, hats, everything everywhere on anything not moving...
'This lace shawl would complement that dress, thus...' Em held it up to Rosa who turned about before the mirror, frowning....
'I don't know, Em...it is quite enough, already, don't you think?'
Em draped the black lace over Rosa's shoulders and ran her finger along the fringe. 'It suits you so well, though, see? And how beautifully it flows...you know you love to dance, Rosa!'
Rosa just smiled. 'We'll see. Alright then! I'm done! And just look at this place! Oh, Em...and what have you decided upon?' She shook her head, gathering up scarves and hats.
'Anything?'
'Oh, leave it, Rosa...I'll put this all back. I'm still...deciding. Just come get me when you're ready for your makeup!' Em ushered Rosa out the door, making sure she took the shawl, and that she would spend more time just getting ready for tonight, and not working.
Well, what would she decide upon? Em rarely bought clothes...she hadn't time or inclination. Her money went upon books, sheet music, travel... She gazed about at the women's wear here offered, wondering how or why Daryl had so much in the way of ladies clothing. She smiled slightly; none of it looked likely to fit him...so that wee idiosyncrasy was out. She supposed it had all just been here at the house...along with her mother's cameo...
Em had looked around for other jewelery and hadn't really found much. Daryl had saved that cameo for her then, somehow. She put such enigmas out of her mind for the nonce, and tried to find something suitable...something she could easily dance in, neither too hot or too cold...she sighed; she was starting to sound like Goldilocks.
A knock sounded at the door. 'Come!' Em called, expecting Rosa back again.
Daryl poked his head around the door frame. 'Hola!'
'Daryl!' Em was dressed, but she still was rather discomfited but his sudden appearance.
'You are expecting maybe Tam Lin?' Daryl sidled into the room. 'What happened here?' He surveyed the hurricane-tossed room. 'Looks like hobgoblins were tearing through the closet! Bit early still...'
Em bit her lip; she had to agree...'Well, Rosa found just the dress and shawl, and hat, she thought would do well for her, but I'm still rather, undecided...'
'Ah. Well, Yvonna did suggest that you might wish to look at a couple of things...just a moment...'
Daryl disappeared back round the door and was heard rustling up something. Soon enough, he was back, and holding
onto a couple of lengthy gowns; these he spread out on the pile already covering the bed, one silver and one a sort of blueish-black.
'Hmmm...' Emlyn approached tentatively...that's right, Yvonna was coming with Daryl tonight. Good of her to think of me, but oh, I'd have to take up the hemline on any of her things, on the off chance they may fit...
'These are not Yvonna's,' Daryl informed her, in answer to that thought.
Em cast a quick glance his way. Daryl shoved a pile over, making room for himself on the bed. Her eyes strayed back to the gowns...though the silver dress was lovely, she found herself drawn to the blue-black...it was a black satin, actually, but when it moved, one could detect a gorgeous electic blue rather under or alongside of it.
'This is beautiful material!' she breathed, as she held it up. 'It just may fit!'
'Well!' Daryl popped up like a jack-in-the-box, 'I'll just be off then. We're having a late supper first with the Leeks, and then staying on, helping with whatever needs doing before the festivities...so, be ready to leave here by 7ish, alright? Let Rosa know...' and closing the door, he took his leave.
Well! This just may do nicely, Em held the gown to her and decided that Uncle Daryl's sudden appearances weren't all to be feared. She put an ear to the door just the same, making sure of retreating footsteps, before she began to undress and to try on life in the blue-black gown...
. . . .
'"...She was a vision...in old Spanish lace...!"' Daryl sang, as Rosa swam into view, (no other words for it), in her dark lace confection... Diego took her in his arms and spun her about, as Rosa flicked open her lace fan, and lowered her lashes coquettishly, looking strangely seductive for a skeleton woman...they danced a round or two as they hummed a tune, '...south of the border...in old Mexico!'
'Emelyn fach!' Daryl called upstairs,'"I was nearly kept waiting!"' Daryl harumphed his best Sun-King, as he stood with Rosa on one arm, himself looking darkly dashing in black velvet; all very 1890's...in short, behind the times, yet quaintly genteel.
'Oh, do forgive me, 'Louie', mon cher!' Emlyn appeared at the top of the stairway, and fair to catch the eye of the fay,
in midnight blue, was she.
Her hair she had left to fly free in a tangle of braids mixed with scarlet curls and ribbands of purple and crimson; and as she moved down the stairs in the black dress which became electric blue with every step, like stormcloud lightning; Diego knew that she, and tonight, were both far beyond his control...
'La Belle Dame Sans Merci...'
Daryl took Emlyn's hand as she swept down the stairs.
'Not that bad, surely, Diego!' Em regarded him. He was looking exceptionally...non-avuncular, tonight. And when did he become so blond? His locks gleamed in the firelight against the absorbing velvet black. He seemed to be rather Hamlet Prince of Denmark tonight. Em was disconcerted momentarily; Daryl the shape-shifter. "Il a le diable au corps," indeed, she thought...
Daryl rallied to. 'Well. We're away then! Manuel has the carriage ready, and Yvonna is expecting us soon. Shall we, ladies?' Daryl slung back his cape and offered an arm to each and they were away in sooth, upon that most magical of midnight blue satin evenings...
. . . .
Afternoon in the Sierra Foothills meanwhile, found Jack helping Homer fill the big bucket-tub with cider, as they poured it near enough to the top, but with enough room not to splash too much out whilst folk bobbed for apples within.
'There. That'll make 'em come a-runnin'...' Homer allowed as he plopped in several apples and set them floating about. 'No one will care whether they snag an apple or just a mouthfull of cider...'
Jack grinned, as he pushed his forelock out of his eyes, thinking that there were some about who would do just that, anyhow.
But, heck, it had been a long hot summer and the first Harvest Hoedown had gone off without a hitch, and the boys had even made a little cash off of their party, which was all to the good. Jack had been busy working on Crowley Place and was feeling ready for a little relaxation and celebration for a change.
As was Aleister, who was already making inroads upon the apple pie and jack, teasing Diana with his pitchfork...
(a small red one he'd made as a prop only for his Old Nick costume, who in Al's mind, wore a top hat and tails--the hat having red horns and the tails had a red pointy one thrusting out between them: 'May as well look like a banker, or politician if you want to play the devil,' he wisely noted.)
Local musicians only, made up the party tonight, and they were staying close by the house and barnyard where the bonfire was to be lighted after sunset; the amphitheatre too far away and too cold for after-dark celebrations this time of year.
And so it was a smallish hoedown tonight, by Equinox standards; about the size of their regular barn dances. Although it would no doubt become more popular as the evening wore on...
Jack whistled as he went about lighting the torches around the house and barn. Jethro and Homer had decided to keep these up year-round, or at least until the rains came in earnest.
Finished with this task, he heard the music commence and folks begin to shout and whoop and the stomping of many boots as they took to the floor and swung their partners...he grabbed his guitar from the porch and headed on into the barn. Orpheus, lyre in hand.
And it was a sight! He and Al and Jethro had rigged up some spooky decor' round about, with spiderwebs and gargantuan 'spiders', hanging from the loft. There was even a (stuffed) witch on a broom on high, and ghosts everywhere, of course.
Laughing little boys were chasing little squealing girls about with small toy 'spiders' hanging from a thread that Al had fixed up round about the tables for 'effect'...which seemed to be working, Jack smiled to himself.
Hayrigs and corn dollies and apple wreathes rounded out the festive furnishings for the evening and everyone had brought something for potluck. The tables were overflowing with casseroles, soups, breads, pies, cookies and cakes, fruit and naturally enough. everywhere the ubiquitous pumpkins like politicians scenting bribes...(hollow inside as well).
Speaking of: Sugar was overseeing some youngsters at work on hollowing out Jack-o-lanterns and Jack was glad she'd reprised her Peter Pan outfit...showed off her lovely legs a treat, he decided.
As he climbed up on the stage and made some last tunings on his strings, he wondered briefly why Emlyn hadn't answered his invitation, or even called. He hadn't heard from her since her birthday some weeks ago, which was great fun although he hadn't stayed the night...it just seemed rather awkward at Daryl's house. And somehow, different, from back in Mass, which Jack thought of more as 'his' place.
It wasn't like her to miss a chance to make music with friends...although, it was Halloween, of course, he knew all it meant to Em.
Still, he would miss her sweet clear voice...
Incredibly, he had hopes that Em would eventually come around --not only tonight, but to set up house with him...somewhere. But, until she did, he simply couldn't sleep with her under the watchful frown of Daryl in His House on Nob Hill. He knew Daryl felt that the two of them should marry.
He knew better than to bring that up with Em. Again.
Still...he wondered if perhaps he should have. Brought it up, again.
And, maybe he should have stayed the night, too.
Quesas...
. . . .
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