by S Lawrence
There, to his dismay, was the most beautiful halfling he had ever seen, chained with a long length to the side of the house. She had beautiful red hair, emerald green eyes and she was weeping. He then saw a huge brute of a man come out, grab the chain and pull her to him. She began to cry more as he grabbed her hair, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Roughly, he pushed her hand down the front of his pants before shoving her through the door of the house. The druid cried, listening to her screams as the man raped her over and over again. When it was finally over, the man drug her back outside naked and forced her to do magic for him. All the while, the druid watching, cast a spell, calling for the first druid and Danu to come help him free the girl.
Suddenly, clouds began to swirl high in the sky, and the girl glanced up with a glimmer of hope. The druid could also feel the magic in the air. In an instant, Danu herself was beside him. The anger, etched in her face, caused the druid to shrink back. As she turned her head toward him, she said, "Fear not, druid. I can see you have done all that you could to rescue my child."
The druid suddenly understood the anger flowing about the Goddess; this halfling was her daughter, the first daughter she had borne to the Earth. Her name was Beathag, which meant offspring of life. She was Danu's beloved, her gift to all mankind.
In an instant, the wards fell as if they had never been woven and the Goddess flowed down the hill to the house. She was a dark queen, and an inky black mist flowed along with her. At once, the chain disappeared from Beathag, and she cried out "MOTHER!" while falling into Danu's arms. The human was held by magic, as a cage of Rowan branches grew all around him. Danu held Beathag to her, as a gown, as green as her eyes, appeared on her bruised and broken body. The druid had walked closer, and Danu turned to him, trying to rein in her anger. She asked him to take her daughter, to her father on the Isle, while she dealt with the pitiful human.
Beathag clung to her mother, crying about blackthorn tea until her mother whispered a spell that sent her into a dreamless slumber and placed her into the druid's arms. As he cradled his revered package to him, he felt himself shift to the realm of the gods. He appeared in a garden, where Beathag's father was waiting to care for his daughter.
Danu's voice rang out across the earth and the realm of the gods calling The Morrigan to her. The Morrigan appeared abruptly. Taking in the scene before her, she could feel Danu's distress.
“Danu, my Queen, tell me how to ease your pain.”
"That monster you see encased in the Rowan branches, has violated my Beathag. He had her trapped and diminished her magic. She could barely send out a whisper on the wind. I want you to find out how he knew that the blackthorn tree could be used as a weapon against her. When you are done, I want him punished. I must go to my daughter, for she needs me. I am entrusting this to you for we must know, so we can protect our children."
Danu faded from the Morrigan's sight, shifting to the Vanishing Isle.
The Morrigan is a fierce Goddess. She is known as the Queen of the night and often shifted into a crow, although she has many other forms as well. She is known for her ability to incite warriors to her causes, promising to grant them glory, either in winning the battle or in their death. She is often seen on the battlefield, helping her warriors with magic and terrorizing the enemy. Her true form is as beautiful as Danu, but where Danu is fair, the Morrigan is dark. Her hair is like a raven's wing, and her eyes are such a dark green, they often look black as night.
The human, in his Rowan cage, began to tremble when he saw the dark goddess gliding towards him. Her dress was made of raven feathers, and the sunlight reflected off of them. Her skin also shimmered in the light, so pale it reminded him of moonlight, a stark contrast to the black of her hair and clothes. Her beauty only heightened his terror because he had heard tales of The Morrigan and how she often lulled her enemies, with her beauty, before bringing their nightmares to life. As she reached him, he began to sob. She circled his cage, without speaking. Her head tilted, watching him, deciding how she should proceed. She was sure that it would not take much to break this human, he was no warrior.
“Shall I show you what I am going to do to you?”
He fell to his knees, crying out “MERCY, my Goddess!”
“Mercy? Like you showed my Queen’s daughter? It was you who drugged, chained, and repeatedly violated her, was it not?”
He began to weep louder.
“Maybe, I will kill you quickly but only if you tell me how you learned of the Blackthorn and how it could be used against the halflings. MAYBE.”
The human began to tell her the story of watching Beathag his whole life. Seeing her beauty stay the same, he began to covet her, but because he wasn't attractive or talented, she never noticed him. It made him angry, and his fury continued to grow and grow. Finally, one day, he saw a druid alone. He found out the druid had just finished his training and was sent to the area to live among the people and help them. Becan, for that, was the human's name, told of how he set out to befriend the druid, hoping the friendship would allow him to gain knowledge of how to make Beathag his. He eventually learned that the young Druid could not hold his drink and that when he drank, he talked of things he shouldn't have. A year went by, and after a long night of drinking, the druid told his friend of how the Blackthorn spines were like a poison to the halflings. Depending on how they were used, the spines could even kill them.
Becan began to make a plan the very next day. He searched for the perfect spot, far away from any farms. He found the perfect meadow and built his house out of Blackthorn trees. He gathered blackthorn spines and boiled them, making them into a tea. He then went into a village she often visited, one where he was not known and approached Beathag, asking her to weave a spell on the fields at his farm so he would have a bountiful harvest. She happily followed him to help.
After she had aided him, he offered her some honeyed blackthorn tea, which she drank. While she was sick from the tea, he bound her with chains, coated in a mixture made from the spines. It kept her magic diminished. He forced her to drink the tea every day. With her unable to stop him, he took possession of her day after day.
“She was mine! She loved me! She wanted to stay with me forever!”
"You sad, sad man. She did not love you. She sent out what little magic she could, calling for someone to come to her aid. The Tuatha know only goodness, and you have tainted that with your evil actions." Morrigan stood pondering what to do with Becan. She wanted to gut him, slaughter him like she did the enemies on the battlefield, but he was a coward and didn't deserve that honor.
Becan eyes widened, as he saw the smile beginning to appear on Morrigan's beautiful face, for he knew that it was the beginning of his torture. A black mist began to swirl around the bottom of Morrigan's dress, and he could hear the screams and moans of her fallen enemies, their souls trapped in an endless nightmare. The mist crept over the ground, inching toward his cage. Soon enough, it was filling the cage, and the air was filled with his screams, as all his deeds came to torture him for eternity.
“I TOLD OTHERS!” he screamed in agony, hoping to stop everything that was happening to him. Morrigan pulled her mist back, holding it at bay while staring at Becan. As he stared back, she morphed into Badb Catha, the battle crow. He began to scream in terror, as her voice thundered across the land.
“WHO DID YOU TELL!?”
“Others, who felt as I did. Those who wanted a Tuatha for their own.”
She could not stop herself, nor did she wish to, when she used her enormous beak to tear him to pieces. Her battle cry rang out, and warriors all around the land heard her call. Others, who heard the call, shivered at the great outrage that rang from it.
The Morrigan quickly shifted to the Vanishing Isle, to tell Danu of what she had learned and of the danger she had unearthed to the Tuatha de Danaan. When she arrived, many of the other Gods and Goddess were present, having come to ease the distress of Danu and her child. Morrigan told them of what Becan had said; h
ow an unknown amount of humans now knew of the Blackthorn trees and their threat. After she had finished her tale, Cerridwen stepped forward, her eyes swirling silver, a sign that she was having a vision of the future.
In her quiet bell-like voice, she foretold of a great war between the Tuatha de Danaan and the humans. Of jealously and greed driving the humans to try and imprison all of their children. As she finished speaking, the anger of the others had grown. They wanted to attack the humans. To wipe them from the planet.
Danu raised her hand, and the room quieted.
"We came here to escape that kind of war. We cannot bring it here. We have lived peacefully, for hundreds of years, but if that is changing, we have the ability to leave and shift from this world that we created. We can forsake the humans and take our magic from the earth. For the moment, I suggest that we protect our children and prepare for what the future holds."
The Morrigan stepped forward and said, “You are right, Danu. For now, we will watch and see. The humans may not grow so jealous. Cerridwen’s visions have been known to change before. Until then, I will search out the greatest warriors and send them out to protect our children.”
Danu and the other gods nodded their heads, looks of anger and concern etched in their faces. Slowly, they each faded away, until only the Morrigan stood looking out at the beautiful landscape. This place was all they had to remind them of the home they had fled. It was the best of their world, the things that they missed and wished to remember. She loved it here, but she loved the Highlands and the fierce warriors that dwelled there even more. It would be those warriors that would protect the Tuatha.
Her child was among them, whose father was a fierce Viking that had come to raid along the coast but had chosen to stay after she appeared to him, in her most fearsome form. He later told her that he would only allow her to send him to Valhalla. She had taken him as her lover and soon bore a daughter that they named Ylva. She lived with her father in a small village along the coast, where many Vikings had settled and married women from the Highlands. It was, in this village, Morrigan decided to travel to first, on her search for her chosen warriors. Einar would be too old to fight for her now, but he would know, at least one warrior that she could call to her aid. She slowly began to shift over to the earth, savoring the last moments at the Isle.
While she could've shifted straight into the village, she didn't. She chose, instead, to materialize on the mountain, which overlooked the village. The wind blew through her raven hair and dress, the salt from the sea mix with the Sweet Gale of the Highlands filling her nose. She could feel the magic of her daughter below. Ylva had used wards to protect the village from storms as soon as she learned how to. She also protected the men when they hunted or sailed to other villages for trade. Morrigan gazed down lost in thought. It didn't take long for her daughter to come to the edge of the village and begin to climb the path, up to where she stood.
As Ylva drew near, she was filled with love for the woman her daughter had grown into, her fierce little wolf. Ylva was beautiful, like all Tuatha, but to Morrigan, she was more so. Ylva was unlike most of the other Tuatha; she had a fierceness that she got from both her mother and father. She was gentle but could fight as hard as any warrior, both her parents had made sure of that. When she reached Morrigan, she ran into her arms, hugging her like a child hugs a mother, both drift back through the years remembering cuddles and whispered secrets. Eventually, Ylva loosened her hold on her mother but didn't pull away. Instead, she laid her head on Morrigan's shoulder and began to walk down the path, leading her mother to the house she shared with her father.
“He will be so pleased to see you,” she said with a smile.
“I will be pleased to see him too. He is well?” she asked, hesitantly.
“Yes, even though he is angry with you for not sending him to Valhalla while he was strong and could still fight.”
"I am glad I chose what I did. I could not let him go, and now I have a great need from him."
When they reached the edge of the village, warriors began to come to the Morrigan for her blessing. They fell to their knees, once again, to swear their fealty in answering her call to battle.
“My warriors, today I am here to visit my daughter and my love. Soon, I will have a task for some of you. Your blood is the perfect mix of Berserker and Highlander. For now, I need time to catch up with my Einar.”
The warriors bowed their heads and slowly moved away, letting the Goddess make her way to Einar. He stood in his doorway, watching her approach. His hair was gray, and wrinkles lined his face, but the old warrior was still a force to be reckoned with. For even though he aged, both Morrigan and Ylva made certain that he stayed healthy and vigorous.
“I heard you were angry with me,” she stated, as she came up to greet him.
“I am. You should have let me die with honor, on the battlefield long ago, sending me to Valhalla.”
“I could not do that, for I love you too much. You should be glad of it for I have now come to you on a mission from Danu. Or...should I search out a younger warrior?” she asked with a teasing smile.
He opened his arms, and she walked into them, melting into him as she had since the first day she saw him in battle. She felt his beard along her cheek and his breath upon her ear as he whispered, "Come, and I will show you things a young warrior has never even imagined!"
She sighed and felt her body respond to him, so did he and he chuckled. Biting lightly on his chest, she smiled and whispered back, “It is in my arms that you find your beloved Valhalla.”
Einar threw his head back, laughing loudly. Ylva did not have to guess as to their whispers. With his arm around her shoulders, Einar ushered Morrigan into the house. Ylva wandered off, giving them time alone. Her mother tried to come often, but she knew her duties kept her busy. Ylva knew her father grew restless, having no battle to fight. Time in her mother's arms could soothe him like nothing else could. It was almost dark when she made her way to the house. Inside, she found her parents sitting before the fire, discussing whatever had brought her mother to them today. The both turned and smiled at her, her mother waving her over.
“Sit, daughter. I have things I must ask of you and things to discuss. Something horrible has happened to Beathag. I have told Danu that I have a way to prevent it from ever happening again.”
Morrigan told them of Becan. She told of his treachery, his violation of Beathag and his words stating that there were others that knew of the poison. While Ylva wept for her gentle friend, her heart began to build a terrible anger. Morrigan looked closely at her daughter, as she felt the swell of her magic. She saw Einar looking carefully, as Ylva's eyes began to glow berserker blue.
Einar took his daughter’s hand and forced her eyes to his, “You must calm yourself, daughter, your magic is pressing into me.” He was forced to look away from her eyes as the brightness flared, but he heard her begin to breathe deeply and the terrible pressure lessened.
Morrigan moved to stand in front of them. “I have told Danu that I would find fierce warriors to protect our children, humans that would not betray us and who cannot be harmed by the Blackthorn poison. That is why I am here. I know of no better man to help me with this search than my own warrior.” She smiled at them both.
"I know many strong warriors, but if these cowards band together, one warrior might not be enough. Even if they do have the strong Viking berserker blood, none of the warriors whose blood is mixed with our Highland blood have turned berserker. Though there are a few with eyes almost as bright as our girl's." He smiled at his daughter, pride resonating in his voice and shown in his eyes.
"You, Ylva, are a Valkyrie in every sense of the word, a true Shieldmaiden! Because of your gentle nature always being in control, I have never pushed you to train, but now, with this new threat, I think when we find these warriors and I start training with them, you will train with them."
“Yes, I agree. You have more power than you know, my daughter.” Morriga
n smiled, looking into the eyes of her berserker, her warrior, her heart.
Einar stood and declared, "Ach, I have a warrior in mind. He is strong, and berserker blood is flowing through him. I will send for him at once. We will tell him of our need, and if he agrees, we can start to train him in the magic, as we look for others."
And so they brought Asger to the village to meet with them. The Morrigan was very pleased when he stood before her. He was a mountain of a man with long deep auburn hair and the dominant blue eyes of the berserker. He looked to be a direct descendant of Odin himself if it had not been for the golden hue of his skin that came from his mother. When he spoke, a thick highland brogue came out of his mouth. He was beautiful and brawn and, as Einar cleared his throat, Morrigan realized she had been staring at him. She moved to Einar's side, as he stood a little taller, pulling her close, eye narrowed on the man before them.
“You chose him,” the Morrigan reminded gently.
“Do not remind me,” Einar reluctantly stated.
Asger chuckled, for he often had that effect on women and their men. "Doona worry Einar; I have no desire to steal your Goddess from you. I only came because you called."
“I’m sorry Asger, while you may be a handsome man, you could never be my Einar,” the Morrigan replied, for she felt that in her heart. Just like that, the older warrior seemed to grow years younger, smiling at Asger with a smug look on his face. The look said that he knew his goddess thought of him as a god.
The Morrigan took control and said, "Enough! We have important issues to discuss, and our vanity is not one of them. Please, Asger, come in and sit, this is not something we wish the whole village to know."