a fettle nest


Gormglaith shoved back her thatch and sucked in crisp air as they came out onto the back garden close through a sliding window. When it shut, any sound from inside was hushed, leaving only rushes of wind from across the moors and far off surf pounding below the cliffs.

She glanced, then stared stonily at Rhedyn Apple's hard white clunch carving called Frolic, of two girls, so lifelike, reeling in front of colourful laser beams soaring into the clouds. One stood in reeling klompen, gazing off towards the Minch and waning moon, arms outstretched, hands open in a ranting throe and looking rather like Morigan or Morfyd. Facing her knelt another with long braids, arms held out as if to yodels, head thrown back and lips afar, tongue thrust in a wicked swoon. Gormglaith whirled about to Raoghnailt, wide eyed.

"That," said Raoghnailt, "is a twenty-third shenn of mine, Dairine Ban Grendel Sparkenbane, first braid of the cracking 3245bn tide and thy close kin about a hundred sundry ways but that's no trick."

"Try a million," put Gormglaith with a wraithen smirk.

They sat in moonlight among boards haunted by shees, scollagyn and some clanniners. The chill of a brisk westerly breeze was stayed by glowing red heat lights on tall slender poles as a slouchy robot ticked off ginger crushes, fizz and coffee.

Morigan leaned forward affably, chin in hands.

"So little sister, how's thy flurt been then?"

"A scream," Gormglaith answered from behind a stray lock of thatch as she pulled on the dimly fluorescing cutty sark a robot had brought her.

"We didn't see y'all...!" said Raoghnailt, wagging a finger.

"You were lashed thou little hash! So Gormglaith," Morigan said magpie, "I'd have thought it was thy first...!"

"Rather."

"Clannin girl," put Morigan, nodding and sitting back.

"Hey..." said Gormglaith, rapping fingers on the board, chin length thatch sweeping forward.

"...I'd have done anyway and frickin' soon."

"Clannin girl," echoed Morfyd, shrugging as everyone laughed.

"Findabair?" asked Morigan, eyebrows raised and hair swishing. "With a glain, uhm, 'borrowed' from someone's kynn?"

Gormglaith gazed back, tossed a framey shoulder and took up a ginger crush.

"...Dank," said Morigan.

The robot brought glion groudle pye. Heaping, cheesey wedges of leaf, root and berry were tugged, pulled and shoved into hungry mouths.

"This is dish..." Gormglaith mumbled, mouth full.

"Speaking of which," said Morfyd, "thy shenn Grainne haunted us this evening."

Gormglaith stopped mid-chew.

"Yeah," Morfyd carried on, deftly plying a sagging slice. "Grainne knows everybody."

She waved her hand and took a sunken cheeked bite.

"How long have you known her?"

"Oh, since we were little. If kin Grendel have something to say, Grainne's the one!"

"So what," asked Gormglaith, taking another sip of ginger crush, "did kin Grendel have to say tonight?"

"We'd been back from the henge but for a tick. 'Sparkenbanes,' she said and thou knowst how she is, 'Sparkenbanes I only wanted to say you're all in our thoughts and Gormglaith's kynn, who weep for her, wouldn't mind if she called!'"

"We told her thou wast likely to, that it's flurt and thou hadst thy first thing. She said she was thrilled, then brought up durham grian. She'd already heard!"

"Uh oh."

"Her take on thy helpful wyrd was rather keen," said Morigan. "She barely kept a grip."

"Fuck!" said Gormglaith, burying head in hands. "This is ladgeful! I henge banshee on Sunaneve and Monandaeg shee bannee mee Grainne blurt to quicken one of the leegest farm plaits ever. Weepin' wombats! What'll Enid say?! Fy! Flann! Morigan thou fingering hag how in the bloody bound couldst thou let me do such a thing?!"

"I told thee to shirk off!" said Morigan, wagging cheekbones.

"No worries, Gormglaith," put Blodwen, head bobbing.

"They'll grok soon enough..." said Morfyd.

"...and the ruck who don't can suck snow," put Morigan, waving a hand.

Gormglaith looked up at the twins.

"The air witch found this, like, tiding in my thread yesterday."

Njorthrbiartr froze, slice of pye before her mouth.

"We heard!" answered Morfyd.

"So we asked," said Morigan. "The blood witch who tided thee grows new limbs in Fen Glioon these moons. Branwen told Mab... thy kynn asked for the tag and when she hexed it Grainne Grendel was there, at her shoulder. She says her flash on it's likely spot on since that's how she first met the wicked witch."

The banshee looked off towards moon and Minch.

"Uhm... Gormglaith, this never was about Geileis," said Morigan, "nor Grainne by the bye."

"Tell me when I swoon, 'k?"

Gormglaith cast a bladed look, straw thatch swinging by her face.

"Whatever for?" Morigan whispered, shaking her head, glancing about the close as she rose from the board, pursed her lips in a blown kiss and walked off whilst Gormglaith gaped.

"...and this nest ...is incest," Njorthrbiartr sang under her breath, words from Shela Telyn's Fifth braid.

Gormglaith twirled to the reedy scollagyn as the twin stopped still at the far end of the close to stare into starry sky, daisies fluorescing in stormy, wind tossed hair.

"It's ok," Morfyd said airily, tackling another slice of pye. "She'll be back!"

"I'm gonna talk to her," said Raoghnailt, getting up and lurching away in short quick steps over the hard echoing bonk of reeling klompen.

Gormglaith gazed at Raoghnailt's dwindling bottom, cast her eyes down and wept, muttering,

"Botch botch botch botch botch..."

"We grew up in Glas knoll!" Morfyd put cheerfully. "Spoiled rotten, I should think! Morigan and I even spoke in our own tongue 'till we were five."

Gormglaith looked up with wet cheeks.

"Nobody understood a word of it! Our drift to please stirred us to gab English like anyone else and the other slipped away. I rather miss it sometimes. When we were maedchen the three of us (we've known Rathyen since we were bairn) tore through Kin Dails learning to be bats and spooks. That's how we first met thy Giorsal and Geileis by the way. Hanalin too! We wontedly hung out at rinks and feishes, stuff like that. Morigan and I were maegden in Weodmonath of '67 with a reeling birthday flurt at Glas knoll... the whole knot came! I won't forget that summer. Late afternoons were hazy and moody with lochshore swims 'n dreamy walks by mead 'n wood, the short nights cool and breezy with hearts 'n haunts. That's how I recall it anyway and it was one midnight in the gather lair when Morigan said something we've both since forgotten. I looked at her and asked, 'dost thou have a clue?'"

A gaggle of giggles took flight.

"'I don't know,' Morigan said, gawking at me like I'd done her hello lizzy which indeed I had."

"So I got up, stamped my foot and said, 'Morigan Sparkenbane don't be so dull. I know thou'st got a clever mind, I've the same kind. Why thou dostn't spin it sometimes amazes me.'"

"She still says that!" said Njorthrbiartr, bringing laughter.

Morigan, wiping tears and sniffling, came back with Raoghnailt (who slid next to Gormglaith with a trusty nod).

"Hey chick," said Morfyd, taking her twin's hand as she sat down. "I've been dishing about us!"

"Ok, so Morigan's zombied and I heap it on thick. 'Thou worry'st me,'" Morfyd carried on, hands on hips, spoofing her maegden self.

"'It's a drag! Meanwhile if thou thinkst I'm gonna like, swoon out over bein' the flippin' henge twin, th'art daft!'"

Gormglaith squished her eyes shut and mouthed, Bumpkin!

Morigan smiled wanly.

"I burst into tears and ran off! I wept and bled in a corner of the bath, got bored, came out, plopped down next to Morigan and sat sullen, watching ghosts."

"Thou stuckst thy tongue out at me," Morigan said softly.

More snickers flitted among them.

"I did! I still do! Rather like thee!"

"Anyway, a minute later, Morigan's weeping too. 'What!' I said and Morigan said, 'I'm sorry,' so I said, 'If th'art not sorry thou bloody wilt be...'"

Morfyd grinned at Gormglaith, a skinny arm wrapped close about her squirming plighted twin whom she then pogged with a breathless, damp eyed latch.

"...'k," said Gormglaith. "I'm gonna puzzle. I mean, what if... "

"...Thou'dst nixed?" asked Morigan (after steadying herself with a quick gasp for air).

"Yeah."

"...and plighted Pane Aghadreen of the Greens?"

Gormglaith nodded.

"If's a small word with a big tale, tha knowst? Nonetheless, maybe we'd have gotten to know thee anyway in Kin Dails or Fen Glioon as the lekker tongue witch. In the meantime Blodwen here was ready to pli..."

"Oh Blodwen...!"

"Such fuss," sighed Blodwen, shrugging a chalky pillywiggin shoulder. "Gormglaith was born to plight Sparkenbanes..."

"...and Blodwen does a wicked crawl."

She reached across and took the last slice of glion groudle pye.

Sometime later the four scollagyn huddled at a board towards the rear of yn Bleihder bowling, a sleek coffee den and snug bowling gwli half buried in the peat, its inner blond wood walls swathed low with light from red orange neon. Three dozen girls flocked about six lanes and at boards, on stools at the tulipwood fare shelf, or milled. Here again was Gwenhwyfer, now unshod in ash longstockinged feet, slipping two long, sturdy, black nailed fingers and thumb into a bowling ball deeply inner lit by swirls of fluorescent blue, green and white which she lifted slowly to a steadfast and strongly carved chin. Her nose ring glittered in platinum gleam as from the dark shadows of sunken sky blue eyes Gwenhwyfer fixed a wicked gaze over glowing ball and beyond to a shining, hard, utterly smooth yew and pine lane. The banshee strode forward to let fly and rundle the trundling rumble, left leg thrust out then held straight in the air far behind as nimble fingers runed an open sided gore over her heart, palm inward, deft stereo stare thrown so keenly forward. To the clatter and tumble of white ten pins she kicked a quick shawn trews in a shower of screeches, squeals and clapping.

"What?!" shouted Gormglaith, spinning heads as she put hand to mouth. With her eyes darting about, she pulled forward in a whisper.

"She said that?"

Raoghnailt shrugged, taking a sip of hot chocolate.

"Raoghnailt?! I'm barely a scollagyn!"

"Barely's kinda lean as shades go, 'glaithen," said Raoghnailt, lowering her mug. "Tha knowst?"

"We take care of our own," sang Blodwen.

Gormglaith stared at Blodwen as Njorthrbiartr giggled.

"Scollies spin, 'glaithikins," Njorthrbiartr put with a witchy grin, rapping close clipped white nails on wood, "a fettle nest of fylgja."

"I am such a slacker," sighed Raoghnailt, chin in hands. "I mean, even if she is a ranting scrike hag, at seventeen Njorthrbiartr was already witch of Eachdrai- uh oh..."

A scollagyn wearing the Wrath teach's white longstockings along with black reeling klompen, yellow braids twining a wreath about her forehead over a face perhaps more thewish than wonted, had snared everyone's heed. She stood stiff between boards and shelf, tears slipping down her cheeks, facing a taller maegden garbed alike and whose rust hair fell in dozens of short, way thin braids.

"Thou'st gone lass? Gearan this is so fricking leeg."

Rusty Gearan met this tearful bait with the taut stare of bright brecken eyes. The yellow braided scollagyn answered by putting hands behind her neck, shoulders back, hips thrown forward in a hard fylgjic flower, which brought more than a few gasps.

"Get a grip, Tryffin," said Gearan. "Look, I'll see thee... later, 'k?"

She walked out, stringy braids flying, leaving Tryffin throwing at air. The scollagyn dropped her arms and watched forlorn as the glassy door slid shut.

"Thou bloody hag!" she screamed, bent over.

Her answer was a shower of shushes.

"Tryffin!" someone called in a chiding whisper.

Tryffin spun about, glanced at Gormglaith and looked away in tears. Climbing onto a stool she raised a coffee mug, smacked it on the tulipwood, put braided head in hands and sobbed.

"Who is she?" whispered Gormglaith.

"...Hurtleberry nest, clannin girl from Fen Glioon... sly at spells," said Raoghnailt, nodding.

"She looks racked."

"Rather. Someone'll scoop her up. Crush tears, tha knowst? I think she gets homesick, too."

Three minutes later a scollagyn with blue black and ash striped hair falling straight to her bottom came in and made for Tryffin, clambering onto a stool beside her.

Raoghnailt lifted her chin to the hollow, clacking peal of scattering ten pins with more squeals and cheers.

"Kewl... Goewin's here. They're nesties."

As they left Gormglaith grinned and tapped Tryffin's shoulder. The red eyed scollagyn twirled her head, jaw dropping as Gormglaith held out a hand.

"Hi!"

"Hi," said Tryffin, a feaze cast in yellow braided wreath.

"I'm Gormglaith. What's thy name?"

"I'm Tryffin..." she said, taking Gormglaith's hand.

"Anyway I'm so sorry to trample but I wanted to thank thee for coming to my flurt and also... I mean, we saw thee over at Frolic and I flip for thy braids. They're eggy!"

Tryffin glanced to the side and cast a shy smile (with a sniffle), nose ring glittering.

"Ta! I like thy thatch, too."

"Ta... but I know it's rather a mess, huh?"

"Aye, it's cool."

"Yah!" she sighed, then blurted out, "Tryffin Sparkenbane someday I'm gonna grow my hair and have swank brat braids like thine."

"Gormglaith Sparkenbane," said Raoghnailt as they clopped noisily across the flatstones towards Frolic and a sled with orange lights blinking, "thou wast like, born for this clannin."

Gormglaith looked straight ahead with a wry smile, straw thatch blowing in the sea breeze as they broke out giggling and bunched into the waiting sled.

Haethwyck was hushed and dimmed when at two hours before sunrise they walked into birch nest which was empty but for Morfyd and Morigan fast asleep on their sides, unshod in rumpled and rimpled black longstockings. Their facial sways were alike but not at all the same. Gormglaith, Raoghnailt, Blodwen and Njorthrbiartr crawled onto the sprawling staddle, cuddled up in a warm clump limbs askew and fell into gathered slumber.

Shining moonlight beamed through the tall windows when a wailing, warping shriek echoed in the hall and Gormglaith's eyes flew open, ribs heaving beneath Snotrian wrap as spots of light popped on.

Morigan was crawling wildly on all fours, screaming.

"It's nothing," Blodwen said evenly. "...Nothing."

Gormglaith rose to her knees in full heed, quickly glanced about, then looked at Raoghnailt open mouthed.

"She does that," said Raoghnailt as she lay on her side watching Morigan grope and screech under a tangle of honey blond hair.

"Bloody flurt..." whispered Gormglaith when the twin came full stop, stared up at her aghast, then fell and buried her face in gaunt, veined hands.

"Morigan!"

Njorthrbiartr rocked back and forth in an upright wombish throe, dish eyed.

"I flip when she does that! Ripping show, Morigan!"

The twin lay still on blue black cotton.

"Sorry Gormglaith," she said at last, trundling onto her back, looking up at the boxed and woven wood craft overhead. "I won't do it again."

"Codswallop," said Morfyd, rising up on elbows and rubbing her eyes.

"What was it? What happened?" asked Gormglaith, shaking her head and catching breaths.

"Nothing..." Morigan sighed wearily, still gazing at the inlays far above.

"Tell her," Morfyd said flatly.

Drumming clucks with her tongue to cut the lights she plopped back onto the throw pillows.

On her knees, Gormglaith scooted across to Morigan and hovered in the moonlight.

"Was it a dream?"

"I was dreaming," said Morigan, "something. I opened mine eyes and the light was casting shapes on the wall, there," she nodded.

Gormglaith glanced at the granite, tapestried wall with moonlit shadows from the skeinishly paned window and looked back ungrasping.

"I didn't know what they were, ok?" Morigan answered with an uncanny gaze. "I didn't know who I was."

Morfyd burrowed deeper into the pillows.

"Yeah," Morigan sighed. "She doesn't do it nearly as often but they say we've all done it, each and every one of us back to bloody Erin herself if thou mustest know and it means aught. It's some kind of offbeat snap in the awakening cabbage or whatever and it weaves with nothing. 'k?"

"I knew that," said Gormglaith. "I mean, not about you two but... I knew she did that."

"Thou'rt still rather green, artn't thou?" said Morigan, flopping over and folding up. "Go back to sleep, Gormglaith."

Raoghnailt and Blodwen tugged her wordlessly away.

"Her first time asleep with thee," Raoghnailt barely whispered upon a breath, mouth close by Gormglaith's ear, "and she pulls that. Thou canst only guess how she feels."

Njorthrbiartr giggled, leaping on all fours over Morigan, straddling and rubbing a keen beat against her hip.

Raoghnailt nuzzled into Gormglaith's neck as Blodwen wet kissed her and dropped like a leaf on the two of them.