“Oh, where are you my darlin’ love?
The moon that veils my sun from above,
But if I wake to find you here,
I’ll kiss the lips of you my dear.
There was a time when lovers sailed,
Beyond the stars which heaven had made,
And if you come to me my love,
‘Twill be you, my moon and my sun.
Oh, come to me my sweet young one,
When darkness dies and shadow has gone,
There I’ll be with hope in hand,
With you and I in this Celtic land.
Take my heart and rouse my soul,
Kiss my lips and let me know,
That you are here my darlin’ love,
For it is you, my star, my glow…”
Bewitched by her voice, William stood back from himself. It was so immaculate, so perfect, so gentle. That was amazing, he thought. Never would he have expected her to be the type to be singing to herself, and with such a beautiful voice at that. She had the voice of an angel. Quieting his footsteps more, he moved a fraction closer and, leaning against a tree, he waited and watched her as she hummed it over and over to herself.
Her sweet voice transported him back to a time when he was on Ballycongraggon on a warm summer’s eve; out amongst the fields, and Mr. O’Connell had the gramophone playing out his window. One song in particular came to him, Schubert’s Ave Maria. For some reason, Wren’s song reminded him of it. William adored that piece the most, and he could listen to it for hours upon hours, and often he did just that. After a spell of dwelling on those so beloved memories, he came to notice that Wren wasn’t just singing to herself, but to the water, too. For there were glowing fish in there, whose mouths bobbed at the surface. And in whichever direction Wren chose to sing, they would follow. This made her smile, and so William smiled too, without realising.
After a few more minutes of listening, William moved an inch closer, but his boot got entangled in a ground vine and he stumbled out into the open. Up he sprang, hoping she didn’t notice, but she did. Not that it mattered. She’d actually been aware of his presence for some time. All she did was smile, then went back to brushing her hair.
Cringing, William said, “Look, sorry about that.”
“No need to apologise.” She said, ever watching the water. “All is well?”
Swaying his arms nervously, the lad gabbled, “Fine, thanks—out for a stroll—heard you singing…”
Wren kept her silence. She had also stopped singing, yet she continued to comb her hair in the peace of that sparkling lake. When she didn’t say anything in return, William felt a little out of place, so he took it upon himself to break the silence.
“You have a really nice voice, you know,” he complimented. “In key and everything!”
Still, she didn’t talk. On the brink of asking if she was going to miss her friend, William reconsidered, as he already knew the answer, and he didn’t wish to upset her any more than she was by reminding her for discussion’s sake.
He was about to walk away, when she said, “They’re a breed of musical fish.”
“Hmmm?” the lad asked, turning back around.
Vacant was the girl’s look, when she said again, “Some of the fish in our lakes, they are of a musical kind. They respond to calm music. Amazing creatures, really. Some of them can fly, too. The blue ones I think. They nest in the willows come night-time.”
“Musical fish, eh?” William noted.
Being very intrigued by such curious things, he came a little closer to watch. But, William being William, he scared them away into the caves beneath the lake.
“Oh, I didn’t mean…”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “They’ll be back again. It’s nearly their nesting time anyway. So…join me?”
Clearing his throat, William rubbed his palms off his kilt, and sat down beside Wren, but not too close.
“I’m not a witch you know,” she said with a smile, her dark hair turning to silk between the comb’s teeth. “I won’t cast a spell on you if you sit a little closer.”
Clearing his throat a second time, he moved in a smidgen closer.
You see, if the circumstances hadn’t been so glum, he probably wouldn’t have been so bashful. But Wren’s dragon was gone now, and he wasn’t really sure as how to behave as a result. All he could think of, was that, perhaps, she might need some company.
Peering off into her thoughts again, the girl said, “This country is filled with such magnificent things, William. There’s nothing about it I don’t love. The birds, the trees, the beasts. Well…maybe not him so much! We can all do without his deeds! Oh, I will do what I can to help the goodness endure within Lythiann. I love it so much. But I’m afraid that what feeble effort I might have won’t be enough. In fact, I know it won’t. But I can still try my best to help those who have the power of salvation.”
Facing him, she then uttered, “You have your music too, William. I’ve never heard it myself…not that I could remember it if I had. But I know of the prophecy. They say it’s a melody like no other. So strong. So full of promise. A magnificent composition! A theme with a Celtic phrase so fragile that it would simply pass you by had you not caught ear of it. Perfectly beautiful.”
She spoke of the Banádh as if she could actually hear its elegance in her mind, and when it was over, she too ceased her combing.
“How come you didn’t tell me about the Symphogram either?” William asked, not wanting to sound too pushy.
“I thought you knew,” Wren answered. “But then I decided it was not my place to mention it, just in case. It is the greatest-kept secret on Lythiann, after all. All the more so after we’d learnt of your forthcoming arrival. Nobody in their right mind would dare dream of jeopardising that. It’s a fantastic thing, this prophecy, for all of us…yet I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel, being the other of one who was so depended upon in their time. It must have a great bearing over you.”
William found that moment to be really nice; for them to be spending some time alone together. Yet, as it turns out, he didn’t really want to be talking about himself, or what he was supposed to be doing on Lythiann. So rather than participating he just sat there with his arms about his knees, smiling politely to nothingness; somewhat regretful for even mentioning the Symphogram in the first place. For at night such things, as you already know, were stressful to him. Even now his stress was all the more evident, as with some nights before that, steadily worsening with each dawning of the stars.
Even in Wren’s company, he seemed to have abandoned himself. He looked alone; pining for the return of normality, simplicity, familiarity. It was like he was imprisoned within a mental cage, fighting for a way out. And all he could do in the meantime was remain strong and continue on this private struggle without completely losing his grip on whatever he could deem a legitimate reality. He was exhausted, and yet he wouldn’t make his emotions known. He believed it selfish when, minutes prior, she had to forgo the friendship of her eldest companion.
As both succumbed to their thoughts, he began toying with his amulet, probably without even noticing.
“What’s this?” Wren asked.
Emerging from his trance, William said, “What’s what?”
“This,” she said, taking the amulet in her fingers.
Suddenly, he was quite pleased to talk. Maybe because it involved something other than Mysun Margyle.
“Oh, this? Well, it’s a Celtic amulet, you see.”
“Does it mean anything?”
“It means…”
(He paused.)
“…Yes?” she smiled.
“W-Well, it means…l-love.”
He felt embarrassed to admit this. He was only a thirteen-year-old-boy, after all, and no child his age should ever have to discuss such things. Particularly in front of a girl, and one whom he so deeply adored at that. But he needn’t have been fretful, because young Wren neither judged him n
or teased him.
Gently, she replied, “Love…” and from the corner of his eye, William could see her looking directly at him, which made him a tad self-conscious, yes, but he kept talking anyway.
“Yeah…love. It was given to me by my mother when I was very young,” he uttered, gazing at the medallion long and hard. “She told me once—Ma, I mean—that if I ever felt alone, all I’d have to do is hold this medal tightly to my heart, and the fear would just go away. Because it’s a symbol of her love, you see. And as long as I remember that, then there will always be hope for happiness.”
“And does it work?”
“Never really thought about it, to be honest,” he replied. “And ever since I came here, the only thing I can think about is getting home.”
“That’s understandable. I’d be the same.” Wren said, and returning to the charms of the trinket’s tale, she pondered, “So it means love…I never would’ve guessed.”
“Yep, but all that probably sounds a bit girly to you I’d say?”
“No…it doesn’t,” she answered softly. “Everyone wants to be loved, William. I don’t care who you are. It’s a necessity in all walks of life. And, actually, when you think about it, this medallion isn’t all that different from my silhouette.”
When she put it like that, William smiled.
“I suppose it’s the same principle,” said he, considering his pendant in a new light.
“She sounds like a wonderful person, your mother,” Wren suspected, only to have William reply with a strange air, so tenderly she asked, “What’s the matter?”
“You know,” said he, “it’s funny. Here I am, in this magical world. Surrounded by strange creatures and all sorts of amazing beings. But…no matter how far I choose to go…or how many different people I meet…she’ll always be the most amazing person I’ve ever known. The things she went through. Her strength.”
Leaving the pendant alone, he peered across the blue, moonlit hills, every now and again spying a sentry’s wandering crown from behind the hills of beyond.
“And…what of your father?” the girl asked, but she wasn’t sure if she should.
William didn’t mind, so he replied, “My father? Well, he passed away when I was very young. All I can remember is that I loved him very much. My mother was never really the same since. It’s strange.” He smiled, though it faded to a lonesome shift of his brow. “When I try and think o’ him, I can never see his face properly. I mean…he’s there…in my mind…all the time. But no matter how hard I try…I just can’t picture him; his face. It’s just, blank. It’s odd.”
It was in that very second that he came to realise something. Something he never would’ve thought to imagine.
Never once did he say any of these things aloud to anyone, nor did he expect he would ever have to. At that point in time, he simply wanted to.
Sweetly she gazed at him. She didn’t talk, or smile, or stir. She just stared…plain and simple. She knew she was doing it, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t intentionally trying to make him feel uncomfortable, either, not that he felt so. She just couldn’t take her eyes off him that very minute, because William had captivated her with his compassion; his true self.
He returned a glance, without feeling scared or shy. In fact, he felt like this was due to happen, and so he didn’t hold back. He found it pleasant. Her presence alone managed to alleviate the pressures that were troubling him those nights of late. Like one very simple answer had soared from the blizzard and rescued him from those horrible burdens which seemed to pile themselves on top of him, eve after eve, like a ton of jagged rocks. She was so pure. So sympathetic. Her eyes smiled at his, and his eyes at hers. Time slowed as they shared in some style of connection. An eloquent understanding.
“You’re all I have now…” she whispered.
“He really won’t be back? Ever?” William asked, and Wren shook her head. “You can count on me then. I promise.”
At that sweet moment, the glowing fish returned. Out of the waters they fluttered. Hovering over the surface like dragonflies, they made it sparkle to a refreshing neon blue. Lifting William’s arm, Wren slipped her arm through and rested her head on his shoulder. Arm in arm, they looked on as the fish took turns nesting in the willow above. And there they remained, glowing, until they fell asleep.
William and Wren stayed by the lake alone that night. They didn’t talk much. They simply gazed out at the world, contentedly, in peace. A short while later they got drowsy, then sleep found them and whisked them away into a night that was blessed with a rarity of pleasant dreams.
At the looming of a perfect dawn, William heard the placid swishing of water in his slumber. He felt the sunshine on his face. His left cheek was nestled in a hassock of warm grass. Wren was the same. She too stirred, only her right cheek was in the grass. William groaned with a sleepy stretch. Wren was beside him doing the very same. He began to open his eyes, and so did she. Then, just in front of their faces, they noticed how their noses were virtually touching. For an instant they stared, when William’s eyes gleamed and he leapt to attention. He was very giddy indeed. Rattled almost. I suppose it was his way of handling the situation, for their lips were on the brink of touching. And he didn’t wish to spoil any ‘moment’ they may have shared the previous night over some silly misunderstanding of him making a sly pass as she slept, because he’d never consider such a smarmy notion. All the same, if a kiss was on the table, he wouldn’t have said no, either.
He went pacing up and down, simmering with awkward vivacity. Oh, any bloody thing to take the tension out o’ this moment, he thought. Wren just sat up, still half-dozing, smiling up at him with one eye shut.
Swinging his arms to and fro, clicking his fingers, he said, “Gosh, that was some night’s sleep, wasn’t it? Not too many o’ them in a lifetime!”
When that ridiculous sentence inexorably slid from his belly to his lips, he felt like plunging his head into the lakebed like an ostrich with the embarrassment of it all. How silly it felt for him to have just blurted out the very first thing that came to mind. Aw, what kind o’ stupid impression was that supposed to make? he thought, mentally clobbering himself to a bloody pulp. Not many o’ them in a lifetime?! And ‘gosh’ of all things?! Good stuff, ya plike!
Thinking nothing of it, Wren smiled it off. She’d already seen William for himself; an honest, caring lad, who just happened to wake up in a position that was a little too close for comfort at this early stage. She wouldn’t have minded a quick peck at all.
All the same, no matter how they chose to react, they were still very aware of how their relationship had strayed onto another level. It had slipped from an otherwise mundane slope towards a normal, everyday friendship, onto a road far more thrilling.
So as William gabbled himself deeper into mortification, Wren got up, took his hand, and said, “C’mon, Blatherin’-Bill! Breakfast time.”
“Y-Yeah! Breakfast! Sounds good,” the lad burbled, and back to the camp they went, where they found Stell wide awake, skinning one of seven fresh rabbits.
“Sleep well?” He grinned, eyebrows bouncing. “Just about to get some breakfast started here. Hope you’re hungry?”
“Starved!” Wren replied.
“Where’s Khrum and Icrick?” William asked, noting their absence.
“Oh, Icrick had to take little Khrum out into the woods in search of some birch leaves for his bruise,” answered Stell, readying a stick for the spit. “Leaving me stuck with all this mess.”
“His bruise?!” William and Wren asked together.
“Turns out the leprechaun went for a little sleepwalk before dusk, down as far as the lake. To catch more fish, I’d expect. I’m afraid he didn’t bank on reprisals after his tussle with the salmon yesterday, and fish around these parts can be quite hostile when they want to be. The silly chap took a tail fin right across the left eye as he stood urinating in the shallows, mid-snooze. So now he has a first-class shiner, but the birch leaves shou
ld help the healing process along quite swiftly.”
“Rather amusing it was, actually,” said The Head, who was sitting against a felled trunk nearby, “to see him zigzagging his way over the hill, holding onto his eye, wailing with his piddle-stained leggings hanging about his ankles. Put him right in his place. It was only a small clout though, he’ll live.”
“Aw, poor Khrum! I’m glad it was nothing serious,” replied Wren, and with an escaping snigger, she added, “But…I kind of wish I’d seen it now.”
She and William had a little laugh at that before sitting around the campfire. Meanwhile, Stell went about roasting up some delicious rabbit with thick, tangy strawberry sauce.
That afternoon they decided to spend one more night in the meadows. It would allow them time to collect more food, as well as get another night of solid rest before embarking on the road again.
William felt a trifle glum after talking about his mother the night before, and was in no mood to go hunting or gathering. Besides, it was he who’d tidied up after last night’s meal, and it was he who helped Stell with breakfast. Hence it was only fair he should sit out those extra chores. Nor was he, in any way, fishing for their sympathy, because when Stell asked him if he wished to join him out hunting again, he put on a huge smile, and said that he just wanted to have a bit of time to himself. So, assuming all was fine, they sauntered off without a second thought to erect more traps.
Wren also stayed behind with William, insisting that she’d catch up with them shortly. William didn’t ask her to do this. She did so of her own accord. She knew that something was amiss with him, and she had a fair idea what. But it wasn’t until after dinner that evening that she actually approached him about it.
The Other of One: Book Two Page 15