Walking the path despite the Brambles.

The doorbell rang. 

It's a noise I don't often hear in the house. If I'm expecting company then I would know by previous agreement and usually be waiting for the car to pull up outside or at the very least, my faithful hound to set a woof upon anyone approaching our territory. 

Usually an unforeseen bell ring would indicate a door to door sales person or some missionary out doing their service.

I confess that I don't answer the door to either and they invariably leave after the first attempt. 

The doorbell rang. 

Odd for it's repetition, curiosity peaked I moved from my distracted stupor, my grump becoming a grumble on the off chance that it's just a persistent sales person. 

With mind all set to provide a minimally polite refusal I opened the door, and lost my words and most of my thoughts all in one moment of recognition.

My hound bounded past my legs, but instead of a break out to chase up and down the street, he jumped to welcome the visitor with as much energetic vigor as that which he reserved for my own home comings. 

"Come on. Get your coat."

The rumble of that voice rolled in through my ears and echoed in the sudden silence of my mind. To go from a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions to stillness shocked me to near insensibility.

As I scrambled to gather my shattered thoughts he crouched down to greet the hound affectionately, big strong hands gently ruffling the back of the dogs neck.

The hound seemed completely relaxed in his presence then rolled on his back baring his throat and stomach, something he never does to strangers. 

It was this incongruity that managed to snap some semblance of Self back into my shell.  

"Hound! Go to bed."

As ever my tone was more than enough for him and with a lick at the Big mans hands he trotted off to his cushioned spot in the hall way. 

"Listen, thanks for the visit but it's not a good time right now."

Those dark eyes of His fell upon me, reading through me as he let the silence roll on. 

"Look, I'm not in a good head space at the minute. Things are on my mind and bothering me." 

His eyes remained fixed and unblinking upon me as his arms came up to fold across this broad chest. Still that silence rolled on.

"My brain is not right at the moment, I would be no use to you."

One of his bushy eyebrows raised into an arch as he held his position. When the words came, there was no give in them.

"Lucky, I'm not after your brain, I just need the strength of your arms. Now get your coat."

With the words spoken he turned to walk down the garden. 

I turned to reach for my coat where it hung by the door.

"Oh, and bring the hound."

                                                         *********************

So it that was that. I found myself out in some field someplace down in a ditch, hands torn and stung from the nettles and brambles, swearing and straining to clear the area, my hound running amock around the space chasing the scents and sounds only he could perceive, and looking up to a broad pair of shoulders doing the same job in stoic silence. 

In my blackness I had followed and said not a word. 

In my blackness I had looked upon the task asked of me and said not a word.

In my blackness I had set to work and said not a word.

...but now with work near finished the pains had brought anger to my mind and the words would not be stayed.

"What the hell am I doing here? Why did you need me to do this? I have enough troubles of my own without getting caught up in some meaningless task in some no place!"

He turned slowly, tossing the last of the brambles aside and came about to face me, moving so that no more than a few inches separated us and my eyes were locked to his. 

The anger in me writhed atop the deep blackness  which had dominated my thoughts of late, and imaginings of me jerking my head forward to break his nose, then raising my knee into his groin, lashing out with all that anger and frustration, danced before my eyes. 

He must have seen it. How could he not. Yet no backward step did he take, nor shift of posture to defend against me.

When his voice came it was naught but a whisper, breath hot against my face, the scent of sweat and earth filling my nostrils. 

"Listen, you said to me. Yet you have been deaf to the land and the call this last while.

Look, you said to me, yet you have turned your eyes away from the world around you to escape into fiction.

There is nothing wrong with your brain but your thoughts deny you rest and your body suffers for it." 

His words stole into me soft and subtle, gentle despite their power. 

"You're over doing the thinking and not doing the acting, you amadan." 

The small smile that accompanied the insult stole its sting, and with it my anger.  

I slumped to the edge of the ditch, body worn weary and thoughts too tired to feel anger any more, the tears came then. Rolling quietly down my cheeks and into my beard. 

At that time a scuffling noise brought my gaze across the field to the gate, an elderly man was opening the way to allow some cows to enter. 

As he moved back to the herd they began to turn about and wander, milling about in confused circles, but the farmer gave a call and adjusted his position to block the wandering. With much huffing and maneuvering he eventually got the herd on the move and into the field.

"Inaction can on occasion be worse than  incorrect action. Adjustments can be made whilst your moving, activity can be steered, course adjusted based in the needs of the moment, but only if you are going forward. 

True it's good to think before you act, but when thinking becomes the only act, when your thoughts wander around and around, then you are not moving forward, you're circling the same decision.

Once the choice is made, you need to step bravely forward. Yes there will be lots of changes or variables or risks. Yes not everything will go your way, but if you do not move then you stay stuck in that moment, caught up in your fears, and life becomes just a clock of ticking breaths waiting to end." 

At this point my tears had run dry and the catch of my breath had eased to a slow rhythm. I was so tired, but my mind at least was at its ease.

I glanced up to to see the old man looking towards us with a smile on his wrinkled face, waving and beckoning us over. 

"So this was about getting me out of myself so I would take some perspective then." 

"Huh?" 

He looked away for a moment to wave to the old man.

When he looked back there again was that smile of mischief on his broad face.

"Nope! Paddy cooks a mean steak and he needed that ditch cleared. It would have taken me twice as long on my own. Hard as I know it is, sometimes all you have to do is get over yourself."

Dagda softened the sting with a broad wink then turned to stroll off and with a whistle my dog came bouncing along to his call.

"Be sides not everything is about you ya know."

As him rumbling chuckle reached the now calm stillness of my spirit, I couldn't help but feel a smile grown on my face. 

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Westward Wings

 Blue.

Part of my brain knows it's caused by the diffusion of light entering our atmosphere. The molecules which make up our planet's air slightly inhibit the passage of one particular wave length of light as it moves through.
This slows it enough so the human eye can register the wavelength as a distinct input known as colour and defined as blue.

That part is useful for the knowing of things, but it can't measure, quantify or completely express the beauty of the sky's azure mantle as I gaze up at it.

Eire is known for its greenery, the emerald isle and such. What they don't tell you is that all that green is well watered by the regular rolling presence of cloud and rain. Thing is, no plant can grow without light.

At times the clouds are peeled back and reveal the open expanse of the heavens in all their blue swathed glory, the bright sun streams down upon the land and every time I'm compelled to stop, and take a moment to appreciate the sky.

I shared this quiet moment with one other, away from the city and its bustle, its people moving to and fro, eyes set on the destination and missing the beauty of the scenery on the journey.

"I will be up there again soon."

It was the first words spoken in this meeting. I had arrived with a request to his Rath and found him atop the mound stretched out on the green grass, arms folded up and behind, with big hands cradling his head. I had watched the rise and fall of his broad chest, slow and steady, his eyes open and gazing without focus at the sky.

I did what anyone should, I joined him for a while.

Simple relaxed unfocused, breathing slowly and deeply. Synchronized breath, sharing the space and not needing to fill it with anything more than the ever present beauty which surrounded us.

I can't say how long we lay on the green grass, beneath the blue sky, warmed by the yellow sun, but I had purpose here and so came the words.

"I don't think I'm built for the sky. Too much of the heavy footed land stomping to me."

I had no need to shift my gaze, I knew I had his attention, though he gave no outward indication. Trust me, when Dagda's attention is upon you, you Will Know.

"America. near enough the other side of the world. My Love is going to do the work there and I'm her roadie, tech support, and coffin full of dirt."

The basso rumbling chuckle was the first noise he had made, knowing the joke for what it was.

How does one connect to your land when far from home after all. No Bram Stoker in this one, no tale of vampire, more a need to be buried in your own land, feel its touch beneath hand or foot, even if you could never make it back. Such is the prized possession of Land to the Irish heart. Such as I am, I'm humbled to be so for Her.

A few more slow breaths to settle the moment, blue of the sky above me, warmth of the sun upon my face, cool of the grass beneath my form, the scent of green life filling my nose.

"Will you come with me?"

There it was. The Ask.

His big chest rose and fell, steady and paced, relaxed yet somehow still powerfully implacable.

"I have been to this place before and its full of amazing, passionate people. They gather around this time of year to share knowledge, stories, food and drink. There is hospitality in abundance and community in all its range of colour and flavour."

The moment stretched out, and I found myself counting the breaths.

"I'm pretty sure you will like it there. There are some folk you would definitely get on very well with."

 The vast expanse of the blue sky filled my vision, my mind slipping into it, beginning to lose itself in its wide open emptiness. The knowing part of the brain started to volunteer more interesting yet irrelevant factoids, stuff about sub zero temperatures, explosive decompression, terminal velocity. I lost my focus and the synchronicity of the moment went with it.

"Ease yourself lad."

The words were but a soft whisper, but the willl behind that rumble stilled my mind.

"I have been asked to invite you. Not just for me but for them. They know you and call to you. Now I have been asked to help in their space and call you and frankly I'm perplexed as much as I'm honored. I don't know what to say or if you would even hear me over there."

The anxiety in my voice was grating to my own ears, yet it brought a compassionate chuckle from my companion. His words rolled out softly, chiding me gently for my apprehension.

"Do you think I haven't been there before?  Do you think I have not heard my name called in all the years they have honoured it? Do you think I wouldn't respond where honest community gathers and hospitality offered?"

Slow and steady breath lead to another rumbled chuckle from his broad chest.

"I have always been where I am invited to be, and grateful I am to each of them who hold a place open for me."

"What do I say when they ask me to invite you in to the space they keep for you? How do I give honour to them who ask this of me and respect to you for the asking?"

His sigh was one of a patient teacher, taking a moment to explain what should already have been obvious.

"Answer me this, how comfortable was it to sit in the space they set aside for me last year? How did you know the drumming of the cauldron? How did you know the words to ease the lost who did visit? How did you have an answer for John when he asked of you the ways of a Dagda devotional?"

My memories of these activities arose and I was warmed by the fondness of them.

"You were there already anyway."

The realization came like weight dropping from my shoulders. I recalled again each moment and looked for that which had been there but I had overlooked. The voice that had spoken but had, at that time, been unheard. The big broad hand that had rested casually upon my shoulder.

Tears started to roll from my eyes and I did not wipe them away. I let them fall down my face and water the earth beneath me. The words didn't matter. What words could? The intent of one's heart was more significant than the noises used to shape it.

I understood, yet still a small part of me held its anxiousness.

"What if I'm just crazy and this is all in my head? Who am I to speak of or for deity?"

His words came and I could hear the broad smile of them without looking over. I knew the shape and lines of his face, the curl of his hair and beard, the creased curves around his deep compassionate eyes.

"If your crazy drives you to be a better person, more caring and compassionate, more giving of hospitality and support for community, more intent on bringing smiles and joy where you can, then I say more people should be as crazy as you."

The blue sky was scored by the trail of a plane as it slid its way westward, metal wings causing condensation clouds to stream out in its wake.

"Oh, and make sure your passport is still in date."

His chuckle followed me as I leapt up cursing myself and rushed off down the hill.

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The World from a Snug

The loose leaves hustled in passed the doorman without showing their ID.

Gambolling about gaily on the gusts of an autumn wind, they set to a spin in the open area of the pub's entrance, a riot of orange and yellow.

I gave a nod to the guy standing wrapped up against the oncoming winter chill and followed the leaves in. 

The pub was quite busy for the afternoon. Regulars propped up in spaces almost fit solely to them, families enjoying the social space and food menus, couples leaning in to one another ignoring the rest of the world about them. 

At the bar I called for two pints and once in hand began moving through the people in the place, looking for the seat I knew would be reserved for me. 

Stepping in and around any crowd you pass through a lot of conversations. I slipped in and around the people as I moved between the spaces in attention.

"Are they sure the numbers are right? I mean there was that thing a few years back..."

"That doesn't make sense though. Surely democracy is based on a majority ruling?...

"I just can believe it. Like, my brain can't process this..."

"I hope my family over there are doing ok. I'm sure there are a lot of people really upset right now..."

The emotions in the conversations were easily read for anyone to see. Uncertainty, Confusion, Incredulity, concern all there on the face or carried on the voice.

Under it all though was something deeper, something a lot more powerful and dangerous.

Fear. 

I came out of the crowd into the snug, that comfortable quiet space kept aside in some pubs. 

The empty seat was set beside its twin, a slope backed little tub chair, designed for easy comfort.

I placed one pint on the dark wood table in front of the filled seat beside one which was near its empty, took a sip from mine, then spilling out of my over coat, settled into my chair. 

The silence was the easy comfortable sort as I relaxed into the seat and he finished his pint. Placing the empty down his big hand closed around the fresh glass. Cold condensation running down the glass into the lines and over the work calluses, that hand raised the pint up to his bearded mouth for a first sip. 

A sigh followed as the pint returned to the table.

"You arrived just in time, I have a thirst on me today."

I glanced at the six empty glasses already in situ.

"Well you know me. I'm like a wizard. Neither early nor late and arriving exactly when I mean to." 

My smile matched his as our eyes meet for the first time in a few days. The deep brown of them showing the humour within, but to a familiar gaze such as mine, I noted a redness around that earthy colour. He looked tired and sore.

"Good story that. A long one for sure and leaning heavily upon tales of my people, but still, a good one.

The movies did it fair justice."

My concern did not shift but neither did my smile. 

"We're drinking then? Am I on catch up?"

So saying I downed the two thirds which remained in one long pull and placed the empty on the table.

"Your round old man."

Dagda's smile was warm and eyes a sparkle as he waved to the server and called for more pints. 

We sat in silent companionship sipping pints and watching the people as the existed within the space. It was busy in the pub.

"It's noisy in here."

His rumbling voice came out soft and sad, for my ears alone, and I understood the 'noise' he was referring to.  

All people generate a certain amount of energy or presence and at times this can be coloured by their emotions and felt by anyone one with an awareness to it.

The 'noise' he mentioned was how we referred to a dissonance in someone's state of mind or emotion when they are in pain or fear of some sort. When gathered and shared the individual may ease their own burden but it's spread further to those who share in the moment, which of course can improve the situation or, should many already share a similar state, be made many times worse in a collective.

"Is that why we're drinking? You doing ok?"

His eyes rolled up to the nearby tv screen which showed a country divided red against blue, peoples split asunder by fear turned to hate.

 "There's the cause. People the world over are uncertain of tomorrow, so they gather close with each other and try figure it out."

I glanced around the room and recalled the snippets of conversations I had over heard. I had to say it had triggered some questions and specific worries but less so for me given my own privileges than for friends and community.

"There will always be another Bres. Those who love of power, position or influence. They always  trumpet on about various policies or promises. Yet when it comes time to serving the needs of the entire community fairly and justly, you never see them with shovel in hand digging the drainage, or hands in the river scouring the pot."

I look down from the screen to see Dagda gazing at his callused worn hands. It looked to me that they had fresh marks and even small sections of torn skin recently scabbed over. Working hands. His knuckles popped as he made fists. 

"So, tell me how we fight."

His eyes came up to meet mine and darkened to see the angry frown upon my features.

"Not like that lad."

He exhaled slowly, unclenched his hands, and reached for his pint again.

"You can't fight hate with more hate. Aggression would only be read as a justification to those who have chosen to view their world from a position of divisiveness."

He took a long pull from the pint as I tried to wrangle with the problem.

"So I'm supposed to love those who hate me? Plead to their better nature or some such? That's very Christian alright, turn the other cheek so I can be slapped again and trust to hope that they will get bored of kicking me eventually?"

The words came out with an angry snarl. Dagda locked his earth brown eyes on mine and without a word I realised I had overstepped. The anger abated and I recognized my own fear, riding just below the surface of conscious thought. Still words said are hard to take back. 

"We are a brutal species, driven by base instinct. We think we have come so very far and achieved so much, but given any excuse we would still cave each other's heads in with rocks."

The anger was replaced by a deep heart aching sadness which seemed my constant companion, and though my gaze fell to my pint, I still felt his eyes locked on me, seeing through me. 

"I know you feel it Oakheart, it's what I have always felt since the start. Take it from me, don't let it harden you over much. We need to be tough enough to get on with the work despite the pain, but remain soft enough so that we can care enough for others. Not an easy challenge."

I raised my now wet eyes to his and saw there a deep compassion, not just for me but I knew for everyone of the people in the pub and even more then for those of this land and the others. 

"You know my ways lad. When I'm moved to fight, I Kill. No quarter, no restraint. That is not what's needed here. I Know that much."

"Then how do we fight this? How do we raise the change that's needed?"

He glanced again at the tv screen, seeing the victory of fear over love.

"I don't know."

My surprise must have been written plain on my face when he turned to look at me again.

"What? I'm known as the flame of all wisdom, not all knowledge. You of all should know the difference."

His single raised eyebrow on that stern broad face told me the joke for what it was and I could feel the smile stretch my cheeks. 

His answering smile arrived a split second later.

"If you want to know about change then go talk to Her."

His eyes became distant for a moment as if he gazed out through the pubs walls and into a place I could not see.

"I dare say She saw this coming. Mayhaps that's why She has been recruiting all this time. Gathering the strong, the smart, the wilful to Her. Those who are brave and willing to Stand and be seen. To drive the change right there upon the very edge of the challenge. That is her Way." 

His eyes came back to the room with a slight shake of his head, as if to clear it of distraction, and he lifted his glass for another drink.

"So what do we do? What's your Way?"

He glanced at me, then rolled his gaze about the room, taking in the regulars, the families and the couples. 

"Me? I do the work. I look out for what they need. Protect them, feed them. 

Help them feel their sadness and cry, remind them of joy and song, and when all that is done, help them find a restful sleep.

Maybe if our community comes together, supported in these things, sharing in love and kindness, we can set a better example of acceptance for everyone. 

Maybe that way love can defeat hate, community can overcome division, and the aching heart of our people can be healed."

 He looked back to me, those deep brown eyes meeting my now tear filled ones, and I could feel the warmth of his hope  for the future. 

His gaze fell to the near full pint in my hand, then across to the drained empty one in his. 

When his gaze came back up it was all a mischief as usual. 

"Drink up. Sure isn't it your round? I hope you were well paid recently for I have a thirst upon me." 

The smirk on his broad warm face brought a bellow of laughter from me in an instant and I waved to the server for their attention. 

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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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