loch henge


A glittering silvery skate crossed the Running over a spare span, gathering speed to leave Kin Dails and the dappled hills of West meads behind. From its cool, breezy lair Gormglaith and the banshees gazed upon trundling leas. Some were harvested, more were fallow gwaens filled with white and yellow gowans in tall grasses gone to seed, others had crops yet overflowing, soon to be scythed, their wavy rows of wheat, flax, soy, barley and rye strobing by atop frothy black soils. This grew most of the talk and whilst Bairrfhionn was thrallishly sly, Gwenhwyfer steered elsewhere.

Farms gave way to steep and thickly wooded dales. After winding and climbing into the Running alps the skate made a short stop by the wide eaved, grey granite houses and fluttering dark blue, yellow-slashed banners of Fetchingkeep, clinging steadfastly to the mountainside by an ever more tumbling Running river. Then they skirted upstream to slip through the Wealden fold, its sheer layered stone close at either side before dropping away as the skate whisked onto the high green Glioon meads set in a ring of snow topped peaks and sped by garden houses, some five levels high with sundry shops on shaded walks beneath yawning branches of elm and yew, linden and pine, at last darting among the skeinishly wafered high rises and high shift eight upon reels of Fen Glioon.

Near the thick of town the skate glid into a maze of halls betwixt puzzled stonecraft walls, water sprays and laser beams. Gormglaith and the banshees clopped a short way with a sparse flock to a tram of rubbed titanium which slid through a bustling shop lane, then a boughsome byway, halting at three tidy stops called,

Here they got off on a leafy, shoreside garden walk not far north of where the Running poured forth from misty blue loch Glioon. Gormglaith drew her breath at the sight of Loch henge set in green ash groves, its flat roof of skeinishly braided metals, clunches and colourful corundums floating inside a ring thirty-three yards across, twenty-eight slabs of starry, white flecked bluestone each almost seven feet wide, half as much deep and more than four yards high with cunningly latticed windows a yard's breadth set back between them.

Coming to the henge lios with its inns and flurt lairs, Bairrfhionn and Gormglaith went through brightly paned doors as Gwenhwyfer walked on towards the henge.

They took a sleek nest looking on the henge under rundling clouds as the snowy pike of Galad bane lurked in the Alps far to the south. Gormglaith sprawled on the staddle, leaning back against an inlaid headboard, sunken eyes glimmering behind thatch askew, lankily sheathed in rumpled and rimpled white longstockings, left leg folded to flat chest, the other thrown flush across the bolster. The nest smelled of apples and vinegar and nearby was a bowl of whole dried northern spies and scones, tokens of Harvest home. The grey cloth bound Eachdraidh was open on her thigh when Bairrfhionn greeted Gwenhwyfer and the others with a lopsided grin.

"Gormglaith, meet Tegan Nichneven!" said Gwenhwyfer.

"...I'm thrilled," said a tall girl with frosty grey eyes and long, geal yellow hair, the sides and back of her head shaved close like some scollag witch of yore. Stepping up in black linens she cast a racking gaze whilst putting forth a gangling and blue veined hand.

Gormglaith smiled, clambered across the staddle on all fours and stood to take it.

"How spooks! Geileis says she knew thee at KD!"

"We shared some boards!"

Gwenhwyfer warded at a wispy maegden with deep set green eyes and wan hair tumbling to her hips.

"Creiddyladl Trendel Sparkenbane..."

This scollagyn seemed shy, nose ring glittering in the afternoon gleam.

"Hey Gormglaith," she said, arms at her sides.

"Hi Creiddyladl!"

Gwenhwyfer next swept her right hand towards a girl with chin length flaxen hair freaked with red, a maegden about Gormglaith's height and alikely in white longstockings. Periwinkle blue eyes lit up above a glowing platinum nose ring which topped off a brattish smile.

"...and Raoghnailt Raine-Blairie Sparkenbane..." said Gwenhwyfer, grinning wide.

"Hi," said Raoghnailt, staring.

"Hi!" answered Gormglaith, staring back.

Nudging gab followed, mostly about Glas knoll, the trip to Fen Glioon and so on. Tegan, Gwenhwyfer, Raoghnailt and Creiddyladl soon left to meet Morigan who was said to be waiting in a flurt lair nearby. As they crossed through the doorway Gormglaith watched the two scollagyn's neachly linen sheathed, maedchen bottoms sway below short cutty sarks.

One spun her head to glance back for the fleeting glimpse of a shrewd blue lake eye peering from behind straw thatch. Raoghnailt Sparkenbane flashed a witchy grin.

"So... what happens now?" asked Gormglaith, wheeling to Bairrfhionn.

The banshee tilted her head and without a word went to a low bench, opened a trip bag, took out black wooden keened klompen and sat on the staddle's edge.

"Hey Bairrfhionn?" she asked, crawling back to the headboard.

"Yes Gormglaith?" Bairrfhionn sang out, steering her right foot into the steep opening.

"Thou remind'st me of Findabair."

"So too..." said Bairrfhionn, grinning as she leaned to put on the left.

"I mean this may be a fixation."

"Gasping! I don't mind!"

Bairrfhionn stood tall, sheeish and twig, as if she were somehow mostly legs with heels raised yearning utmost on keened klompen, black longstockings soaring high to scammeled flat feldstone chest whilst slender braids and locks dove to scaanish thighs.

"Anyway I hear rather craven snog gets kindled by fixations now and then!" she said.

Gormglaith brooded at her own outstretched legs in rumpled linens.

"Gormglaith?!" called Bairrfhionn, shaking her head.

"Truth be told I can ask Morigan anything I please."

"...Yeah, but it's dodgy. Thou knowst... Short 'n sweet's the call that's meed!"

"I know. A quick 'yes' and I've got you, spot on where you want me. Morigan won't flee," she put with a flippy shrug.

"No, she won't."

Leaning against the headboard, legs splayed, Gormglaith watched Loch henge under a blue sky spackled with scuttering, puffy clouds and spotted a black pond where white swans circled lazily, now and then beating their wings near tall grasses billowing in the wind.

"...I cast these open arms to ply with thee by meads and hills and lochs, in ancheisht walk these haunted strings..."

Bairrfhionn kneeled lankily on the staddle, maple red hair sweeping forward across shining popinjay eyes and a wraithen smile, then ruffled Gormglaith's straw thatch to tangles.

"Thorpe cabbage!"

Giggling, they gazed out the window and grew hush as the swans slowly cast their rings, nodding beaks, nudging wind ripples on the pond.

Leaving the lios Bairrfhionn and Gormglaith went among light flocks down a treesome path to the henge, rambling by a life sized, gold clad carving of Erin Sparkenbane, an early Celtic freayll witch.

Erin

As they crossed into the henge's deep and chilling afternoon shadow Gormglaith's thatch was caught by a gust of wind and she didn't try to tame it. With Eachdraidh under arm she looked up through strawsome hair blowing across her face at the bluestone cutting of gweeping girls, hex roie ec snotra, their warning lasered in runes on white granite,

Inside an echoing low lobby they stopped at a new cast of Caoilfhionn and Rathnait, crafted with many-hued layers of blended glass leaf floated between two sheer ash ice wafers, giving a bewitchingly strong notion of depth. Otherwise this was a widely known clannin rune, showing ginger haired Caoilfhionn from the back wearing an early kind of dark bluish grey longstockings as she stood between the white clad thighs of helpful, red thatched and swollen bellied Rathnait, the Running river's high banks north of Kin Dails behind them.

Caoilfhionn and Rathnait

Gormglaith peered out onto the nearly empty henge's sweeping floor with its knotty Celtic inlays. A plighting was underway with three naked maegden calling back and forth from the Oardagh of Caoilfhionn and Rathnait.

After going down a short and narrow flight of blue slate steps followed by an alikened hallway they found a door with the name Hafgan Halsen fluoresced in turquoise above. The snowy plight lair within had a latticed window looking across the black pool with its white swans. To one side was a lasered granite bench by an inset ledge with platinum water taps and an ash split basket of dried fruit. Nearby on this wall was a small red heart set in flakes of crimson corundum and crosswise was a gore, an upended, three cornered slice of feldstone lightly veined in blue green.

Gormglaith gave Bairrfhionn a wan smile, stepped from alder wood klompen, hooked thumbs under the wide, pleated wrap, shimmied out of her longstockings and put them aside. She sat stark on the bench, book close by, knees together, feet afar, leaning forward and looked up at Bairrfhionn from behind a fallen lock of thatch.

"This being a henge with no looking glass in sight," said the banshee, "I can comb thy hair..."

Gormglaith cast a maedchen grin.

"Not!"

Bairrfhionn lit down beside her, put limbs likewise and together they looked out the window, watching the swans.

Seven minutes later the clannin girl from Elmthorpe stood at the runed western opening into Loch henge. She glanced back at Bairrfhionn who made a lopsided smile and staring fixedly ahead Gormglaith strode naked into the Eachdraidh nan fylgjic.

The late afternoon sun sent hundreds of many hued beams through the roof's corundum panes as she padded across granite and underlit quartz. Bairrfhionn's keened klompen echoed loudly behind her. More than three hundred girls stirred two or three deep beside the latticed windows and when she reached the middle every gaze had tumbled upon her. Bairrfhionn staggered to the side as Gormglaith looked into gnawsome stares of first sight. A gaggle of five moppets giggled and waved which got them a shy wave from the hip along with a flashed grin and these cast their own spells about the ring.

Gwenhwyfer breezed in crossways from the henge's eastern opening, Frisian klompen clopping. Standing by Bairrfhionn she leaned forward to look beholdingly at Gormglaith. Then Tegan came through the same way drawing eager shrieks which seemed to startle Gormglaith as the witch walked noisily and lankily towards them, a hint of smirk on her face.

Applause and screams came anew when Morigan followed at last, walking stark in a smooth and dashing gait, glancing to and fro, throwing smiles at sundry onlookers. Bringing up the rear with the look of sly maedchen fylgjic reelers were Raoghnailt and Creiddyladl in white longstockings reaching over ribs clutching like clarsachs up to bare chests. Each held four leafy green-stemmed, ruddy orange tulips which they tossed all at once before Gormglaith's bare feet. The scollagyn dashed off to the side as Morigan stopped two yards from the maegden to face her in a bewitching light. Gormglaith gaped down at the tulips then sharply lifted her chin, eyes gone wild.

Whilst sharing the telling kinship with Erin's stern carving, Morigan stood in a waggish slouch, taut thews across arms, legs and tummy glowing chalkenly and shot through with blue green veins, her raw honey blond hair falling in rantish, twining plaits to beetling clavicles. She bore broadly put, sparkling minch blue eyes on a face cast by soaring cheekbones over sunken hollows and a slabbish jaw, her long nose bearing a platinum ring looped above dark and harshly blooded lips.

To oohs and ahs, boosted by the henge's light echo, Gwenhwyfer called in a canny and eager tongue,

"Gormglaith Grendel Hafgan Halsen of Elmthorpe, West meads, meets Morigan Sparkenbane of Haethwyck by Grasp, Wrath ness!"

The henge fell into a whopping hush. Gwenhwyfer cast a battish nod at Gormglaith as Morigan gazed at this tall girl with bony limbs, lean thighs, slackenly folded hood peeking from claspen cleft, flat belly with a hint of womb, puffed brims set afar below abiding clavicles and framey shoulders. Morigan's stare settled on an evenly put face with wide mouth and big teeth gleaming bright behind deeply ashened red lips under a straight nose, rather too much but handy on her as brow shadowed blue lake eyes shone from behind a wind blown straw blond thatch which she wasn't shoving back.

"Can I ask thee something, Morigan?"

Her words shivered through the ring.

"Bear with me Gormglaith," came the answer like silver. "Meeting thee like this leaves me a little speechless."

"I know the feeling."

Morigan tilted her head and asked, "Aw, does this mean we don't get to do Caoilfhionn and Rathnait?"

Laughter and applause rang across the henge.

"So why me?" asked Gormglaith.

"I don't know."

"Did you think of asking someone else?"

"In loops."

"Wouldst thou run thy scams on me, Morigan?"

"Rather...!?"

"So is it to teach... or what?"

"Yes! ...or whatever," Morigan put with a quick nod.

Tegan grinned down at the granite as Gormglaith glanced off right with a start to find Raoghnailt staring at her, bright eyed and open mouthed.

Gormglaith swung her head back.

"Do I remind thee of my twin Geileis Grendel from whose womb I tumbled by the bye?"

"Kind of."

"Then this is kind of like a fixation."

"I guess so."

"I've got a grip on mine own life, Morigan."

"I know. Elowen Ynseyder and Findabair Pane Aghadreen of the Greens. I mean, I've gotta tell thee Gormglaith, gettin' henged with those two'd be like spin in Kin Dails."

A hundred whispers fluttered and bounced.

"They know I'm here."

"Yeah, Devon told them an hour ago."

"What's Devon Rand doin' hangin' out with the Fayrbirns in Elmthorpe?"

"Asking's knowing."

"How's Findabair?"

"Devon said..."

Morigan's lasered stare was met by the quiver of a hovering blond eyebrow.

"...She ate a blue daisy."

Loch henge echoed in gasps. Gormglaith looked up and off to the side, tears running down her cheeks as the ring dwindled into a trough of sighs. Shaking, she said,

"When we braid the blood of our daughters, it's not as if we have much to do with who comes along for the ride, is it."

The hush came from drafts slamming into starry bluestone slabs.

"Whatever. So... as far as I can glark, the hope this afternoon at Wrath ness is to plight a fourth banshee snugly knotted to kin 'n clannin, maybe a thrallish moppet like me, who might even give a luzz about what's goin' on."

Scattered, sniffly giggles flew.

"5,447 years ago," shouted Gormglaith, "on a Midsummer's eve under the full moon of Esbat, Erin Sparkenbane stood here and spoke the words!"

Gormglaith held out her arms, took a deep breath and from beneath ruffled straw thatch said,

I cast these open arms
To ply with thee
By meads and hills and lochs
In ancheisht walk
These haunted strings

As she kisses
This is my pog
As she weeps
These are my tears
And thou unfoldst me

The scythe reaps
Slackening and wraithen
Together we bleed!
Make plight for what's meed!
We live in clannin!

Sheets of screams rained upon her as the sun fell and the light of Loch henge went to true blues, golds, greens and reds flooding across deeply inlaid floors. The two girls faced each other in wildly pitched beams like brightening moonlight.

"So yeah, ok," she said with a nettled shrug.

Gormglaith glanced sidelong at Morigan, then cast her eyes up with head thrown back, thatch flying and arms outstretched as balled fists burst to become open hands.

"Yes!" she screamed.

The echo rebounded, split and melted across the henge.

After startled whist came another storm of cheers, tears and ripping shrieks. Morigan cast her wry smile, took a few steps forward and stood among the eight fallen tulips to put dry hands on a waist sharply bladed by hip bones over buoyant thews as Gormglaith's chin rose. They kissed to skeins of ahs, then shyly pulled away, their mouths now smeared and smudged dark bloody red. Gormglaith swayed with a gobsmacked and swollen gaze, rather much like someone who has munched on more brownies than she ought whilst Gwenhwyfer called into a third gale but few heard her.

"On Sunaneve, 16 Halegmonath 5494 we beckon a faere banshee, Gormglaith Grendel Hafgan Halsen Sparkenbane! Come with to spill 'n sway at Grasp on Wrath ness!"

"Come on Gormglaith," Bairrfhionn urged, wrapping slender arms about her from behind, "We've got to get out of here... now!"

Bairrfhionn and Creiddyladl whisked her in a daze back to the plight lair. The nearby groves were in misty twilight, swans hovering close to shore in their black pond as the shivering banshee stared at Bairrfhionn in wide eyed shock.

"Bloody Monandaeg what have I done?"

"Findabair!" she screamed in a heart crushing wail, falling onto the bench naked and weeping, grasping at air.

Loch henge hurled rainbows of light into the evening fog. A shining harvest moon rose above loch Glioon and the high peak of Galad bane glowed ruddy pumpkin orange from afar as turmoil sprang from a waiting throng when Morigan, Tegan and Raoghnailt were spotted outside under the runes. Many mistook Raoghnailt for the new banshee and eager girls shrieked, wept and threw wanton throes and kisses with thrusting tongues, some bearing dabs in fluorescent glows, flashes and shifting hues. Their shouts and calls drew into a handsomely braided yodel as four thousand Fen Gliooners gathered upon the words, Forever Findabair!

"Chill, Raoghnailt," said Tegan, looking straight ahead and smiling as they made their way through swooning flocks and droves.

"Be thyself!" she put with a shrug.

Raoghnailt cast her a witchy grin, laughing.

Wraithen as fuck, the new banshee!

Gormglaith was weeping, laid out on the bench, face hidden when Gwenhwyfer rushed into the plight lair. Bairrfhionn stood shaking and tearful at the latticed window, Creiddyladl sitting steadfastly by Gormglaith's side as Gwenhwyfer fell to her knees, gaping in whist dismay.

Gormglaith sobbed in fits and grew still. Red eyed and wet behind a tangled thatch of straw blond, her mouth smudged as if by darkening blood, she sat up and glared at Bairrfhionn.

"Let's go see the swans," she said, wiping her eyes.

Wearily pulling on longstockings and cutty sark she ran fingers through her thatch, spied the Eachdraidh on the bench, sighed, then reached for it with both hands.

They left Loch henge through a side door unseen in the foggy dusk and by the pond swans came to gab and get pats on their heads as the Sparkenbanes scrunched, haunched, stood, bent and gabbed with swans and about swans and naught else in the twilight.