The Couple's Ford

The morning sunshine warmed him as he lay upon the grass.

Arriving in the moments before the dawn as he always had, the Dagda stripped off his clothes and waded out, waist deep, into the river's depth.

As the first rays of the sun's light were captured by the water, he raised it in the bowl of his cupped hands and poured it over his head and face.

Breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly with every movement, he repeated the process again and again.

The Dagda cleansed his body, and with it his spirit. 

Standing in the shallows of the river's bank he gazed across to its opposite side. Assessing where the earth met the water, he marked his spot and with a large inhalation, dove below the river's shimmering surface.

Beneath the water's boundary the world was a different place.

A quieter, more fluid space. An area where one thing moved toward the next in a constant, never ending push and pull, measured in the space of a held breath.

Kicking his strong legs the Dagda reached for the bottom and dug his thick fingers into the earth beneath the water. Anchored there, he took his mark to the earth above the water and with a bend of his body, and a plant of his feet, he pulled.

As the near noon sun beat down upon the water, the Dagda rose with a gasp to fill his lungs again. 

It was done.

Clambering forward, he heaved his form up on to the shallows that now forded the river from one point to the other.

Lying on the earth with the water running over his body, air filling his lungs, skin drying in the warmth of the sun's fire... the Dagda rested. Eyes closing and breathing deepening, sleep took him.

With a snort and a shudder he sat upright, mind returning from dream to his body.

Squinting, he looked to the sun’s position. An hour had past at the most. Noon.

Still, she would be here soon.

Looking about for a suitable place, his eyes fell upon some heavy brush not far up the opposite bank.

Returning to his discarded Léine and other clothes, he gathered them up, scuffed his feet through the flattened grass to make it stand, and crossed the river using its new ford.

Moving to the brush he circled around it and finding a suitable spot, crawled beneath its cover.

Wriggling forward on his gut, the Dagda gained a view of the ford, and settled to wait.

She would be here soon.

The heat of the sun at its highest was a need to warm her.

The flow of the water, clean and clear to wash her.

Her eye, which always sees the ways of change in every glance, will be drawn to this place where the land itself was changed.

The Dagda knew all of these things when he chose a space for their coupling.  

It was not long before a shadow flickered by above and the crows' call announced her approaching presence.

The Dagda relaxed his body and made his mind still, imagining himself as small as he could.

Letting go of his intent he allowed his eyes to see all that was there, foregoing thought, judgement or decision for the sake of the moment.

A difficult skill to master, being omnipresent, with no thought of self nor worry for the cares of tomorrow, with no part of the mind returning to the vaults of memory.

Dissipating his Will, the Dagda ceased to be, and became only a pair of eyes observing a moment.

Into that moment she came.

The Morrigan, cloaked in the colours of Autumn. The hues of orange, yellow and red. Her hair falling from her head in a crimson cascade. Skin with the clean healthy pallor of a fresh snowfall. Lips as red as heart's blood. Eyes of the deepest blue skies, surveying all around her.

Stepping lightly to the water's edge she stopped and cast her gaze about. Her Will rolled out across the space - seeking, searching. Only one who knew her well would have seen the slightest of frowns move her brows a fraction.

The land was changed. His hand had made it so. This she knew. Their meeting and coupling here, where earth meets water, in the surroundings of air and fire, was more than mating. 

This was their personal moment of balance. Service offered and given. The exchange that would speak to the next years course.

Every year this ritual was met and the requirements satisfied, and yet every year she could not find him before the right moment. As if he did not exist until the ritual needed him to. Never would she say, but it annoyed and vexed her to so lose track of him.

Slipping her arms from her garment she let it fall to the green of the grass. Time approached and though she could not find him, she did not doubt his presence.

Her face took on a smile at her surety. He always liked to watch.

Stepping lightly, she moved forward upon the balls of her feet, her strong legs taking her naked body out into the waters of the ford. She moved her warrior's physique with a dancer's grace. Lithe muscles moving sinuously, alluring and yet deadly.

 As the sun reached its highest, giving its warmth to her flesh, she stopped in the middle of the river. There she bent to raise water with her hands. Lifting it to her face she sipped of it, and then poured it down her head and body. Turning about she repeated this in the four directions.

The Morrigan cleansed her body, and with it her spirit.

With this done, she came about again, offering the four points of the land the four elements, filling each movement with her Will. Water of the river. Earth of the ford. Air of the winds. Fire of the sun.

Her will gathered in across the land and from that moment, all was in readiness. She cast her gaze about in one last effort to find him, but knew that he would only exist once the call was placed upon him.

Come you then, O Chieftain of the people.
Come you hither in service and in seeking.  

fís agus eolas
I call you and by your name be made present.
Dagda!

Her voice rang out its clarion call, taking her Will with it in all directions at once.

The eyes that had watched blinked.

The word had been spoken and settled upon him like a mantle - full of power, purpose and responsibility.

Muscles in the body twitched, as that which had until that moment been just part of the land became separate again. Big callused hands placed down upon the earth supported the push of strong arms connected to broad shoulders.

The body moved as a Will filled it once again and the Dagda rose up from the brush to face her.

In the moment his name had left her lips she had felt him. So named, his Will could not be hidden. She was facing the brush as she heard the first rustling of his movement. Seeing his broad shouldered body lift up, as if out of the earth itself, always gave her pause, yet no sign of it did show upon her face.

He moved with a steady grace for one of his size, unhurried and patient. His big naked full frame, covered in ruddy bronzed skin from a life of labour outdoors. Slab like muscles defined on his shoulders, arms, legs and chest with a heaviness about his waist which spoke of wealth and comfort.

His hair hung down about his broad face, features lined and careworn where they ran down to his close cropped beard. The eyes that met her gaze were the rich dark of the fresh turned earth, deep and steady.

“I am here Lady, on behalf of the people I answer the call.
fís agus eolas

I seek so best to offer them service.”

“And what, Chieftain, do you offer in exchange? 
All know that with knowledge comes power, and with power comes responsibility.”

The deepest blue of her eyes locked to his brown as their Wills met in full at that moment. Push and pull in the water's course. Shift and steady in the earth beneath. To and fro in the gusts of air. Hot and cold in the fire's heart. They challenged. Each testing the other's worth. Pushing their full power and focused Will against their opposite.

As the challenge reached its apex, match for match, equal to equal, he let go, allowing her Will to surround and take him. Sinking to a knee in the ford he lowered his gaze from her and hung his head in submission.

“In this moment and upon this ford, I offer all that I have, 
which is all that I am. 
For the vision and knowledge to best serve my people 
from this moment on until next we meet upon the boundaries between all things. "

Moving forward through the water, she approached. Stepping in front of him, standing above his big kneeling form, she placed her hand upon his head resting it there for a moment, allowing time for this act to settle within him.

In a sudden movement, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and painfully yanked his head back, face meeting hers, eyes locking again as she sought any resistance within his gaze. Deep in the brown of his eyes she saw the pain she caused him register, but no resistance came.

Using her other hand she gripped his throat, fingers tight and claw like, ready to rip the life from him, nails biting deep enough to draw a trickle of his blood. In those eyes she saw his willingness. His life was hers to take should she wish it, and he would not resist.

Total and complete submission. His perfect sacrifice.

Pushing him over upon his back in the cool waters of the ford she loosed her grip on his throat. Pressing her body down upon his big frame she brought her lips close to his ear and whispered in a husky tone.

“Tell me you want this.”

His reply was calm and filled with deep rumbling truth.

“I want this, Lady.”

Her smile was triumphant as she clamped her lips around the wound in his throat, sucking to draw a bruise to his flesh and the taste of his blood to her mouth. With her hand she took the tumescent girth of him, and with firm grip pressed him deep within her, filling her completely and stretching her with a pleasant pain.

She owned him. Fully consenting to her whims and wants he was hers to take, and take him she did. As the afternoon wore on she used him. Taking gratification in body, satisfaction in his strength and stamina. Feeding her wants again and again.

As the evening darkness began to exert itself, she was astride him again, facing the west. The water had continually washed the sweat from them and refreshed them. The earth supported and steadied them. The air filling their lungs and carrying their gasps and moans. The sun's fire keeping a chill from their naked flesh.

Just as the sun slipped to its set, its light disappearing into darkness, she impaled herself fully upon him, and with a shared deep moan, pleasure wracked them both as his life seed filled her.

All colour fled her eyes in that second, filling with blackness. She felt her full power, in that moment, without fetter, without rival. Using him, using his consent, she took his power in to meet her own, filling her, rushing in to her being so that she became everything.

Everything that was, is, and will be was hers to see, hers to change, hers to control. Ownership of all of it within her grasp, to take as she saw fit, to create or destroy. 

Total. Unchallenged. Power.

What use had she for anything else? What was there of value to anything that was not of her? What was there in all creation that could stop or hinder her?

The answer came to her mind, of her own mind and without provocation. Memories of a pair of earth brown eyes. A big form kneeling before her. Fis agus eolas.

There was one thing, and one thing alone that could challenge her. 

Herself.

The words came. From her blood red lips they fell. Speaking of the vision she perceived, of the knowledge she held. There were no questions. There were just the words, spilling and tumbling from her to fall into his awaiting ears.

When the words had ceased and all was said she held there, that total unchallenged power. Creation and destruction. Life and Death. Light and Dark.

As the choice was his to start, the choice was hers to finish.

With a last deep breath she closed the blackness of her eyes, exhaled fully, and released him.

His power left her. Flowing back where it came from. Back to that big frame, filling those dark eyes. A shudder ran through her body as the full warm heat of him left her, and she slumped forward atop him, full now only of herself, and completely spent.

His arms when they encircled her were gentle and warm. One big hand moved slowly to her head, there to lightly stroke her hair.

“Thank you.”

The words were soft and sincere. Whispered just for her, with warm breath against her face, followed by the small peck of a kiss.

She allowed herself to be small. Wrapped in those big arms and warmed by his heat, a happy smile came to her rose pink lips.

“Did you get what you need?”

As the power had left her, so had the memory of what she had seen and said, carried back along the lines of energy to the universe.

“Yes. The people shall be prepared and endure because of your gift.”

As the night began to take hold, and the day lose its heat, she snuggled close to him, sharing in his heat and smiled again. They stayed like that until the last light of the day was well gone and the stars had begun to show themselves.

A deep shudder ran through him and a burr for the chill escaped his lips.

“Let's get out of this water now lass before the cold settles any deeper. 
I warm up pretty quick but we both know how long it takes for you, once the cold gets deep in.”

The Morrigan sat up off him and opened her storm grey eyes to meet his deep brown. The smile stayed put as she moved.

His big eyes blinked, seeing her so, and his words rumbled out softly to her.

"You slay me with those eyes of yours, Lass"

"Be glad that's not true, or you would have died many many years ago."

The smile on her reply showed her fondness, but the Dagda's lined face became sincere and his next words direct.

"Oh I did, and do. 
A little part of my resolve dies every time you look at me like this.

You will be the end of me some day. 
Of that I have no doubt."

His words were new to her, and struck something deep inside with a quivering of apprehension. Grasping hold of her Will, she met his sincerity with her own.

"May that day be a long, long way off."

His face softened to hear her reassurance, and a contented smile took on a mischievous tweak.

“Well, you would KNOW for sure,
 one way or the other.”

Rolling her eyes towards the sky, she punched him hard in his meaty arm, yet she couldn't contain her chuckle.

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The Thirst.

A long morning it had been. Warrior, hound and horse, were tired and a thirst was upon them as they approached the pool. 

One of the younger warriors sighed to see the sight of the clear still waters.

"At last a drink to freshen my mouth. The thirst is upon me fierce."

"Whisht! You fool. Else it will be your life that is drank from you!"

The voice was stern and cracked the youths attention back just as he were about to touch the cool waters. 

Old Aenagus glared at him, brows beetled and a look of both concern and disapproval on his features.

"Do you not know a spirit pool when you see one? Look at its surface again, a breeze here blows, but do you see a ripple?

A sup of that water would slake your thirst alright...but no other oisce after that would ever do so again."

Just as the youth staggered back in fright for the flat still lake, there came a mighty splash!

All the Warriors jumped and turned, some with weapons drawn.

Large ripples spread out, disrupting the water's surface, and as they stared in fear a figure arose from the water. 

Not a one in the Warrior band, male or female failed to recognize the broad naked form of their Chieftain. 

Rising up, waters streaming from his body and running in rivulets down his chest and arms, the Dagda cupped some of the cool water in his big hands and raised it to his lips.

His warrior band gasped in dismay but none would move against him. 

With a mighty bellow he called.

" Come then Spirit, and see what you make of me!"

And so saying, the Dagda drank deep of the cupped water from his hands. 

All sound fled the world and in an instant all was stopped. 

The Warriors in the poolside, as if carved stone.

The ripples, where they had run across the pool, as if frozen atop the water. 

The breeze where it had bent the grass and trees, held firm and still. 

In the pool the Dagda lowered his hands from his face.

The spirit stood in the water not more than a few feet from him. 

It's form, though made of the pools water, clear and see through, was female.

When the voice came to him, it rippled and giggled like a brook babbling across stones.

"Brave and foolish you are to drink the essence of me, for all peoples know that this water is sacred and to taste it is death."

So saying, the spirit began to drift closer, slowly moving through the water.

The creatures hunger and intent washed over the Dagda, yet he remained still. 

"And what peoples will remain to honor you and these sacred waters if they die of thirst for lack of its taste?"

The Dagda's brow was set as he gathered his will to him.

The spirit did not reply and in but a moment she was upon him. 

With the power of a wave it crashed against his broad flesh, yet the Dagda made no step backwards.

With the cold of the grave it wrapped itself about him, yet the Dagda made no move to pull away. 

As its face moved close, lips hovering just a breath from his, it whispered. 

"Fool you are to think you can thwart the elements. Now tasty my hunger and die."

So saying it placed its lips to his, wrapped its form tight about him, and began to feed.

Hunger like the depths of the darkest oceans crashed against the Dagda's Will, as the grave chill began to seep into him.

Down and deep the spirit fed it's hunger, taking the life force of its victim.

In response his heart began to hammer, rushing blood through his veins.

Then the Dagda moved.

Big broad arms rose from the water and wrapped about the spirits form.

The strength of the Chieftain began to crush the water spirit to his chest.

As his grip locked the creature, he released his Will, into it, and placed his thirst upon it.

For a moment the two locked in place, then with a huge and mighty gulp, the Dagda swallowed.

In an instant the spirits will shattered as the Dagda consumed part of its life force. 

 It began to thrash wildly against the strength that bound it, but found no give in the vice like grip. 

Again the Dagda swallowed, and yet more of the creature was consumed by his thirst. 

Breaking, its face away it screamed.

"What are you? What manner of monster? I will not suffer this!"

So saying the spirit began to thrash all the harder, but froze when his Will full voice fell upon it.

" I am The Dagda, chief of the Danu, son of the Mother, and you will suffer me."

With this words the Dagda locked his mouth to the spirit of water and setting his thirst upon it again began to gulp and gulp. 

As the spirit diminished, it's struggles became weaker until all but the last mouthful remained, and there the Dagda stopped. 

Holding the spirit in his hand, he loosened his grip slightly. 

"I seek not your demise spirit, only your hospitality. From this day you will share the waters of this pool with the thirsty, and they in turn will honor you and the water you give with offerings.

So shall you be fed by this and no more take a life of the people.

This is the Will of the Dagda, and by it you will abide."

So saying the Dagda cast the spirit far out into the pool. 

The rush of the wind returned, as it sank below the surface, and with the wind came the cries of his warriors.

The Dagda strode from the waters to his company, and saw their gawping faces,  none more so than old Aenagus.

" The water is now safe to drink, but each must sacrifice an offering to feed the spirit that residues there. 

That is the agreement and set by my Will."

Each warrior took some treasured token to the water's edge, a broach, a coin, a torc, and casting it into the pool, took their fill of water. 

"And how, pray tell, did you negotiate these terms, oh mighty Chieftain?"

Dagda turned to look into the sharp green eyes of Clara who addressed him, the followed her gaze down his own form to the firmness of his erection, where it stood proud and stiff,
throbbing to the rush of his blood.

"Ahem...well, see it's not what you think.."

Her bawdy laughter followed him as he turned hastily to grab up his clothes. 


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A Grey Day

The rain fell in sheets as was its manner in the green isle.

 

The heavy clouds pressing themselves close to the land, speeding the waters' fall to the earth with their nearness. 

The storm had rolled in during the night and commenced its deluge.

It was a day for big coats, warm hats or hoods, and a sturdy umbrella.

He enjoyed the rain.

As he donned his heavy long coat and turned the collar up around his thick neck he smiled ,remembering a line from a movie.  The character's mother had told her that “god was in the rain”.

This idea always tickled him, because on one level the mother was correct in that some people view the elements as a source of worship, but the smile always got that little bit wider when he stepped outside and felt the first drops hit his face.

Opening the broad golf umbrella, he set off down the road in his usual rolling gait, his trim frame leaning slightly forward into the rain. He’d had no need for big work of late, so a big appetite and big shape was not required.

The smile slipped to a thoughtful frown as he passed the election posters. Politicians. The elected leaders set to govern in the interests of the people. 

That same movie provided a new line from his memory, one which he could not help but feel saddened by : "People should not fear their government, governments should fear their people."

These elected officials seem most concerned with their status and personal benefits, with their back talk and 'policy' discussion. 

Where was the leadership?  Where the sacrifice to do what was best for the people?

The People, so caring and understanding and welcoming as a nation, but are they too understanding? Where is the anger and fight?

He has seen a lot of change in his time upon this island, and looked forward to a lot more.

It was needed.

His eyes moved back to the water falling abundantly from the sky. Water, given freely by the process of the world’s cycles. 

They expected the people to pay for that which falls freely from the sky? Sure, there are processes that are important to manage disease and health to make it consumable for people these days.

All of that science must have worked, as humans these days lived a lot longer, or should he say, their life extended a lot longer than some he could recall. 

The sadness began to settle upon him; so many gone who never had as many years as people these days. So many, who sang and fought ,who loved and lost. 

So many whose greatness echoed even onto this very day.

They may have had shorter lives back then, but they definitely lived them to the full. 

In an effort to wash away the sadness, he stopped in the street, and moving the umbrella aside he tilted his head back and set his face to the rain’s fall. 

The water was cold as it splashed on his skin. In seconds the rain had soaked his broad features and was running in little rivulets through the care worn lines of his forehead, and those around his eyes.

If there had been tears shed then they would fall with the rest of the water to wet the earth. 

Heaving a sigh he shook himself, and caused a cascade of water to shift off of him and hammer into the ground.

Looking down he saw the waters flow to the side of the concrete pathway and into the drains and away. 

Flowing, always flowing.

His face softened and a small smile returned as the umbrella once again covered him from the falling water. 

 

There will always be change, it cannot be stopped.

Like the waters which flow it will always find a way. There will be those that try fighting it but eventually they will be worn down or worked around. 

Change is a power that all people possess. From the small to the large, the change starts with each person, and it starts with a choice.

He recalled the news of communities coming together. Neighbour standing with neighbour in peaceful opposition to the government forcing its agenda against the will of the people.

His smile became that bit bigger as he considered the wider world impact his little island had when its people raised their voice and collectively declared that the union of two people, one to the other, should not be restricted based on their gender. 

Change, a power every person possesses, and it starts with a choice. 

 Putting one foot in front of the other, he moved on through the grey wet gloom until he reached his destination.

The pub was warm and dry, a fire crackled merrily over in the hearth. A few patrons sat about the space chatting and enjoying companionship.

Tapping off his umbrella he placed in the stand. Shirking off his big coat he hung it by the door and strolled up to his stool at the bar. 

Shaking out his paper he let his mind drift as his eyes moved, waiting for the barman to finish serving the woman down the way.

“What’ll it be Big D?”

“Pint of the usual, please Derek. Got any tips on the horses today?”

“No way D. I lost more than enough on that last run yesterday. I wouldn’t want to give you my bad luck.”

As the barman moved away to pull the pint, the woman he had just served slipped in to the seat beside him.

“Warmaiden in the fourth might suit. I hear she is feisty and likes to bite, but they say she is one amazing ride, if you like to gamble.” 

His eyes left the paper and roamed up her small frame to a face of fine sharp features and smiling pink lips.

It was always her eyes though. Every time, they seemed to stop his heart and steal his breath. Those eyes roamed about his shape in return, from his broad shoulders to his slim waist.

“If it’s not too improper to ask, I’m curious, why did he call you 'Big' D?”

The Dagda’s eyes took on a mischievous twinkle as his dimples came out to match his broad smile.

“Well….”


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