The hour was late, and tired though he was, Aedon found himself unable to sleep. Sitting on the floor in his offices, with boxes and crates stacked around him, he struggled to make sense if the mess he called a filing system. What was important had become tossed into piles of what was mostly junk filling up his life. And where in the past, he might be able to quickly sift through the stacks, and put things in order, he now felt lost and confused. It would be easy to call to John or Liam and ask their aid in this task, but pride or perhaps Irish pigheadedness stood between him, and his better senses. And so, the hours of the night drug on, the piles grew larger, and he was no closer to finishing the job than he had been when he first sat down. When at last frustration got the best of him, he grabbed a rather large box of papers and flung it across the room, knocking over half the things on his desk, before it came to rest against the wall.
“Did that make you feel better Aedon?” A familiar voice asked from behind him.
He did not turn towards the sound, but kept his eyes on the disheveled box against the wall, watching as pages slid out and onto the floor in a somewhat accordion fashion.
“In all truth, no it did not. And yet, there is a small amount of satisfaction to be gained from the death of that box.”
He did not rise from where he sat, but turned slowly and looked up into the face of she who raised him.
“Did you come to scoff at me mother, or lend a hand?” He asked jokingly.
He could not help but notice the soft smile which traced her lips and the laughter which filled her eyes. Always it was in this way she looked at him when he was frustrated. She never laughed aloud, and yet her entire demeanor spoke of quiet amusement as she took in the sight of Aedon surrounded by a mess of his own making. Moving closer, she lowered herself down, till she was sitting on the floor looking at him. Her quiet amusement quickly gave way to concern as she studied his face. Reaching out a hand, white as snow and as soft as goose town, she placed her slender fingers under his chin, and lifted his head until their eyes met.
“You have lost your shine Aedon. There seems to be little joy left in your eyes this night. What troubles you my son?”
Pausing for but a moment, he replied softly;
“I do not know mother. There is an oddness in the air, a trouble on the wind. The ground my feet seems to shudder with confusion and dread. And I cannot figure what can be the cause. The fire which burns beneath this part of yew has become wild and erratic. Perhaps a portent of some upheaval to come. And there are whispers that come from all corners of Yew which speak to me of….”
Pausing, he pulled his face away from her touch, and looked back to the boxes and stacks around him.
“I really need to get this done soon. I cannot leave such a mess….”
“Aedon, look at me now.”
Slowly and with the apprehension of one facing something they wished not to, he brought his gaze to meet hers again.
“My son, what do the voices tell you?”
“It is but a feeling brought about by too many sleepless nights mother, nothing to cause you any concern”
“But Aedon, what concerns you, is my concern. Has it not always been so? I who have you from fire and death, stood with you against the storm, and wept with you at the loss of too many children. Tell me what troubles you, and if I can aid you, I will gladly do so.”
Smiling, he reached out and touched her cheek, and for a moment, his cares teetered on vanishing before her radiant smile. Her face was the one he remembered looking down at him as he lay in his crib. No years, no toils no strife had touched her. She was as young as ever, as though around her, time stood still.
“I am not certain anyone can help me this time mother. I am lost, floundering as a fish on dry land. Perhaps it is the wakefulness, I suppose only time will tell.”
“Perhaps”
Standing, she reached her hands down to him, and taking his hands, pulled him up until he was standing before her. She slowly led him over to the large chair that set before the hearth, and urged him to be seated. He did as she bid without thinking, it seemed as natural a thing to him as breathing. Leaning over, she kissed him softly on his cheeks, and then brought herself back to her full height.
“This at least I can do for you my son.”
With a soft wave of her hand before him, Aedon’s eyelids closed, and he drifted off into a deep sleep. Taking a coverlet from the other chair, she spread it over the sleeping man, and then stepped softly towards the door.
“Dream well Aedon of Aethrvald, Child of Connemara and Yew. Let thy concerns give thee respite this night. I wish only peace and happiness for you my son, but know that I watch your steps with care, and await your time to walk on greener shores.”
With a slight gust of wind, she shifted into the shape of a large swallow-tailed kite. And flapping her wings, caused the papers strewn and stacked about the room, to rise and swirl in the air around her, before they settled down into neatly organized stacks on the tables and floors around the chair in which Aedon slept. She smiled, perhaps a bit pleased with her handiwork and then flew out the open window, and into the western skies.
When the cold wind is a-calling
And the sky is clear and bright
Misty mountains sing and beckon
Lead me out into the light
I will ride, I will fly
Chase the wind and touch the sky
I will fly
Chase the wind and touch the sky
(Touch the Sky, Brave Soundtrack)
“Did that make you feel better Aedon?” A familiar voice asked from behind him.
He did not turn towards the sound, but kept his eyes on the disheveled box against the wall, watching as pages slid out and onto the floor in a somewhat accordion fashion.
“In all truth, no it did not. And yet, there is a small amount of satisfaction to be gained from the death of that box.”
He did not rise from where he sat, but turned slowly and looked up into the face of she who raised him.
“Did you come to scoff at me mother, or lend a hand?” He asked jokingly.
He could not help but notice the soft smile which traced her lips and the laughter which filled her eyes. Always it was in this way she looked at him when he was frustrated. She never laughed aloud, and yet her entire demeanor spoke of quiet amusement as she took in the sight of Aedon surrounded by a mess of his own making. Moving closer, she lowered herself down, till she was sitting on the floor looking at him. Her quiet amusement quickly gave way to concern as she studied his face. Reaching out a hand, white as snow and as soft as goose town, she placed her slender fingers under his chin, and lifted his head until their eyes met.
“You have lost your shine Aedon. There seems to be little joy left in your eyes this night. What troubles you my son?”
Pausing for but a moment, he replied softly;
“I do not know mother. There is an oddness in the air, a trouble on the wind. The ground my feet seems to shudder with confusion and dread. And I cannot figure what can be the cause. The fire which burns beneath this part of yew has become wild and erratic. Perhaps a portent of some upheaval to come. And there are whispers that come from all corners of Yew which speak to me of….”
Pausing, he pulled his face away from her touch, and looked back to the boxes and stacks around him.
“I really need to get this done soon. I cannot leave such a mess….”
“Aedon, look at me now.”
Slowly and with the apprehension of one facing something they wished not to, he brought his gaze to meet hers again.
“My son, what do the voices tell you?”
“It is but a feeling brought about by too many sleepless nights mother, nothing to cause you any concern”
“But Aedon, what concerns you, is my concern. Has it not always been so? I who have you from fire and death, stood with you against the storm, and wept with you at the loss of too many children. Tell me what troubles you, and if I can aid you, I will gladly do so.”
Smiling, he reached out and touched her cheek, and for a moment, his cares teetered on vanishing before her radiant smile. Her face was the one he remembered looking down at him as he lay in his crib. No years, no toils no strife had touched her. She was as young as ever, as though around her, time stood still.
“I am not certain anyone can help me this time mother. I am lost, floundering as a fish on dry land. Perhaps it is the wakefulness, I suppose only time will tell.”
“Perhaps”
Standing, she reached her hands down to him, and taking his hands, pulled him up until he was standing before her. She slowly led him over to the large chair that set before the hearth, and urged him to be seated. He did as she bid without thinking, it seemed as natural a thing to him as breathing. Leaning over, she kissed him softly on his cheeks, and then brought herself back to her full height.
“This at least I can do for you my son.”
With a soft wave of her hand before him, Aedon’s eyelids closed, and he drifted off into a deep sleep. Taking a coverlet from the other chair, she spread it over the sleeping man, and then stepped softly towards the door.
“Dream well Aedon of Aethrvald, Child of Connemara and Yew. Let thy concerns give thee respite this night. I wish only peace and happiness for you my son, but know that I watch your steps with care, and await your time to walk on greener shores.”
With a slight gust of wind, she shifted into the shape of a large swallow-tailed kite. And flapping her wings, caused the papers strewn and stacked about the room, to rise and swirl in the air around her, before they settled down into neatly organized stacks on the tables and floors around the chair in which Aedon slept. She smiled, perhaps a bit pleased with her handiwork and then flew out the open window, and into the western skies.
When the cold wind is a-calling
And the sky is clear and bright
Misty mountains sing and beckon
Lead me out into the light
I will ride, I will fly
Chase the wind and touch the sky
I will fly
Chase the wind and touch the sky
(Touch the Sky, Brave Soundtrack)