..::As Arianrhod and Gwydion passed beneath a tree, still gold-decked despite the waxing of winter; Gwydion raised his arm and shook down a shower of leaves upong them. But, as he did so, he murmured a charm and made a small wonder. So what fell about them was not a shower of golden leaves but of golden stars...the little stars we know, the tiny shining sky-jewels that men think they see, gleaming as no true gold ever gleamed, far off above the fields of earth.
Arianrhod laughed with delight at that little miracle and dropped to her knees to gather up stars in her cupped hands.
'They are beautiful, Gwydion. They are like beads of light! I wish that I had a necklace of them.'
'That is like a woman,' said her brother, 'Must you be hanging even the stars about your neck?...but you shall have your necklace, for as long as it shall last...'
He plucked a blade of grass, tossed it upon the stars she held and muttered a charm under his breath. It became a chain of fine gold, upon which the stars strung themselves in her hand; and she laughed to watch them doing it, and then hung them round her neck.
She gave him three kisses for that, and he gave them back again.
'You are generous, sister,' he said, 'for that gaud will not outlast the hour...'
'Nor did the kisses last that long,' said she...::..
--The Mabinogion - Evangeline Walton
. . . .
..::We seem to see so many things
The ships that never were
The fairies at their ebat...
Once upon a midnight we danced in circles
beneath a waning moon
the blood-red moon of the Mediterreanean
We flew when we danced--
we danced a long time ago...::
--Whitley Strieber
* * * *
Flyers across the valley...What could it all mean?
Emlyn asked herself; trying to match up puzzle bits...
She and Jack returned from a long day's ride into the sunset, and then, sometime after dinner, she felt she had suddenly hit a brick wall.
She realized that, given half a second; she'd not had time for a single, solid, solitary thought betwixt the time Daryl had abducted her, and now; and that had been years ago, or nearly thus.
And now, it seems, it had been; another New Year come again.
Emlyn found herself, frankly...exhausted.
Now that Jack seemed to be...if not: himself again, at least out of danger, physically; she had come to realize, she'd quite overdone things physically as well, whilst away in the land o'fay...her humanity was catching up to her. Ungh. She was nearly 30...and felt twice that.
She needed to catch up with herself.
Em hadn't ridden in some time, but even so, she'd now muscle aches in muscles she'd no idea she had. Her mind was tired. She craved sleep...dreamless, bear-like hibernation rejuvenation... Oh to be free of all stimuli awhile!
And so, murmuring to Aleister that she was planning to sleep for a week, she headed upstairs to her Indigo Room, and decided to remain there for as long as it took...
. . . .
Thus, evening found the men on their own. Even Aleister
assumed his bachelor's mantle once more; Diana out of town visiting her sister...
Daryl coaxed forth a fire; not blue of hue, but amber true.
Jack kept his guitar with him as all gathered in the parlor; it was unseasonably cold at night, and oddly warm, for January, in the daytime.
'High desert weather,' Daryl remarked. Jack was thinking the same thing. He'd noticed this before; he and Daryl would think of something and then the other would remark upon it... It unsettled Jack on one level, but, on another more immediate plane, he found it fascinating and wished to explore it further.
Aleister, meanwhile had poured cognac all round; a very small token for Jack to be sure...
'To your safe return, Jack!' Al handed snifters to Jack and Daryl. 'And to a new, and improved year!'
'Hear, hear!' Daryl clinked glasses with the 'lads' and drank, as did Jack, gingerly..he'd found hard spirits rather...jarring, since his return. He sipped slightly, stuck his tongue out and waved it around, to cool it, seemingly...
'Haahh...! You say I used to like this?' Jack found that hard to believe at the moment.
'Al...who knows what sort of cellular changes our lad has been though? We aren't...taking him behind the barn now to macho him up!' Daryl shook his head and took a seat. 'Jack needs to heal, you old rogue. Besides, you're wasting good Corvousier...'
'I think my cells will, ah, live, uncle. Most of them.' Jack also sat, and as Dylan fell at his feet, Jack began to tune his old, long loved Guild. His fingers fell into a fandango and it fit the mood of the high desert day as the last fleeting lavender of sunset splashed somewhere west into the Pacific...
Al lighted a cigarillo, as Daryl sprawled across the sofa; Alice curled in a ball on her Mexican blanket beside him, and the house posessed, for a change, an almost homey and familial air...
Aleister yawned like a Gorgon and flicked his ash into the fire. 'This is nice...it hasn't been often that we've all been here, just relaxing, eh?' He sipped assiduously. 'I admit I'm ready for a break myself. Altogether too much at once, of late!' He shook his head at the fire's steady glow.
'Umm...' Daryl also seemed to be glaring at the blaze before them. He sipped upon his snifter and sighed. 'I take it that Emlyn is...considering another move.'
Jack strummed softly. 'I, believe she did mention something...she wishes to get out of the city.'
'I see.' Daryl stood and poured another round for himself and Al. 'Well, it's probably...Time...'
Jack raised an eyebrow enquiringly, but said nothing. He put the guitar aside. 'I think...I'll just make some tea.'
Off into the kitchen then...
Aleister sat in one of the wing chairs and flicked his butt into the fire. 'Not sure what's going on with those two,' he murmured to Daryl. 'But, things have changed, that's sure.' He sat back, stretching legs out before him.
Daryl sighed. This was echoed by Dylan, brown eyes arching briefly his way, then the pup sneezed, shaking his head.
'Spring soon. Can feel it. And not only allergies...' Daryl took out a hanky and honked into it. 'Change is in the air, as well.'
Jack returned, teapot and mug in hand, and poured a tisane. 'Kava...catnip, camomile...' he sat on the other side of Alice. 'I didn't take all the catnip,' he assured her, as he sipped.
Things had changed, indeed, thought Daryl. Obviously, Jack, as he now was, and would be, for who knows how long?--could hardly handle his Massachusetts estate now. And, with Emlyn leaving the City...Daryl pondered, frowning.
'I may...just move operations back east. Close the shop in the city. Close up the house, as well. For awhile.' He toyed with his snifter, rolling the liquor about. 'I'm there rarely, only to deal with the odd antique sale. Otherwise, I'm still on duty south of the border.'
No one said anything at first. Aleister sipped, set his glass down. 'Well, that may be best at this juncture...things are rather, on hold for now. Have to just wait and see, I suppose! Emlyn still hasn't spoken with her friends, and as yet does not know where or when she'll be moving...'
'Does everyone know about this, but me?' Daryl sat up suddenly; aware, wary and rather bristling.
'Ah, we discussed it briefly, en route to town, recently, is all...' Al mumbled, '...certainly nothing seems decided, as yet.'
A holding pattern...Daryl didn't like it. It seemed not a time of pause and peace, but rather like something was stirring, building, readying itself to spring...he simply could not see it as yet. But he could feel it...growing.
At once, Dylan looked up and his tail began to wag. The men followed the pup's gaze to find Emlyn standing, a blanket wrapped about her, and a rather blank, confused look upon her face.
'I...I just had, a very odd dream. I think.' She frowned. 'I hope...it was, just a dream...'
* * * *
..::Thus, Arianrhod, unaware of the web the destinies were weaving and of what that day itself was to bring forth...went with her brothers into the chamber of Math the King, who greeted them where he lay in his ancient and vast repose...his grey eyes pierced her, and it seemed to her suddenly that they were not eyes but a grey sea that flowed through every crevice of her being, exploring all...
'Hah. Girl.' He said, ' are you a virgin?'
She lifted her head and the clear beauty of her sky-blue gaze met the grey depths of his.
'Lord, I know not otherwise than that I am.'
Math took up his wand. 'Come hither'
And, like one who walks in sleep, her tranced limbs no longer obeying her will but his, Arianrhod came and stood before him.
Math bent the wand into a strange shape. He laid it on the ground.
'Step over that,' said he, 'and I will know whether you are virgin.'
Her slender foot rose in air, hovered there above the white wand which lay sinister and enigmatic, seeming to wait like a sentient thing. Her foot fell...
...And according to the Mabinogi, extraordinary things befell...::..
* * * *
'Come, Em,' Daryl arose, and escorted her into the parlor and into his vacated seat on the sofa. 'Tea?' He enquired, as Jack handed him the pot for refilling. Em nodded, as Daryl frowned and reprised Jack's role in the kitchen.
Emlyn drew her legs under her and huddled into her blanket, looking rather lost. She reached a hand out and stroked Alice gently, who stretched, claws out, then sank back into slumber. Em sighed. 'Oh, for dreamless sleep...'
'Had you a nightmare, Em?' Jack asked softly.
She frowned, and stared off into the fire. 'I'm not sure...'
Daryl reappeared, and set down a tray with mugs and pot.
He poured for Emlyn and himself. 'This should help you rest...nothing more than mild herb tea, truly.' His gaze held hers a moment, willing her to believe him.
Em sipped awhile, then attempted to articulate the nebulous and fleeting images that had bedeviled her rest.
'I dreamed...I think,' she amended, 'that Gwydion came to me.' She recalled then, that Jack knew little of her brief history with the Sidhe Lord. 'He...he was...someone I had met, when Jethro and I were exploring up in the hills this past spring...with a group of fellow pagans, celebrating
Beltane...' she informed him, oddly amazed that that particular meeting had been nearly a year ago now, with spring once again knocking at their door so soon.
'...At least I think it was he, and he was not alone...'Em closed her eyes, as if to better hold the images in her mind... 'He had a young lad with him, and they were dressed as wandering bards, each carrying a harp. It definitely looked like Gwydion, but he seemed to have a sort of glamoury upon him, and his image would shift...as did the young boy's...' Em opened her eyes and took a sip of tea.
'Anyway...I bid them both welcome and asked them to play for me. And such music...!' Her eyes were alight, reflecting the flames dancing in the hearth, and she paused.
'Doesn't sound like a bad dream, Em.' Jack ventured.
She poured more tea, then drew her blanket close as she sat back into the sofa once more.
'No, not bad, exactly, but very peculiar. It was...' she flashed a glance Daryl's way, '...as though it was real, and I was just viewing it from somewhere else...' she took a long drink of the herbal brew. 'Gwydion would play a verse, then the lad would play, and back and forth it went, then... when the tune ended, and they bowed, I joked to Gwydion that he should beware: the Young Lion would one day rule in his stead, meaning to compliment the deft hand of the lad's upon the harpstrings...' Em sipped, then choked on her tea, coughing, as Jack patted her back. 'I'm okay,' she croaked, waving her hand.
At last, she cleared her throat and continued, 'Then it was that Gwydion ceased his shape-shifting, and appeared truly, wholly himself, and the boy seemed to sort of solidify as well so now I could view them both clearly. Gwydion was smiling, most satisfied, and he said, 'Thus shall it be then! His name is now Llew, the young Lion!' And he approached me closely then, leaned into my face and said, 'And you KNOW me, my Lady!' and began to laugh!' Em looked round at them, as though affronted.
Jack was leaning his chin on one hand, a half-smile on his face. 'I don't see anything too disturbing in this dream, Em, thus far.'
Emlyn set her tea down, and shook her head emphatically.
'That's just it, Jack, it wasn't a dream! I don't think,' her eyes sought Daryl's beseechingly.
'But, that isn't the oddest thing...'
Daryl had been silent all the while, standing by the fire with one arm leaning on the mantle, a finger tracing his lips, watching her carefully. 'What is it, then, Emlyn?' he asked, his voice flat.
Em swallowed, and seemed to huddle into herself once more, as if the blanket could hide her from the world without.
'I knew Gwydion, of course, but, it seems I also recognized the young boy...as if I knew him, intimately.' She shook her head once more. 'But I don't. He was a fine looking lad, long auburn hair, very young, 8 years, perhaps...much too young to have made such wondrous music!
'But something about him...the way the lad's eyes...such a deep, deep blue....delved into mine, as if we were falling into each other's gaze. It was almost like looking into a mirror...' Em trailed off, softly; 'I then awoke--or they vanished! Either way, I found myself alone, and altogether awake. But, most confused...'
. . . .
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