Seolta's Stories: The Sgaith

     The Great Seolta plunges his bare feet into the cold water and lays back upon the grass. The summer heat is a little more bearable here by the river, and the gypsy children are taking full advantage. He laughs as he witnesses two of the little girls teetering nervously at the edge. Splash! He knew they wouldn't stay dry long. Closing his eyes, he lets the sound of the water and the children wash over him. The women nearby are doing the laundry and singing. Here, in this moment, he can almost forget anything that is not happiness and peace.
     Lost in his reverie, he does not hear the pattering of a small pair of very wet feet until it is too late. Elhannan, his grandson, flops onto his lap and wraps his soaking wet arms around his neck. 

     "Papan? Are you sleepy?" The boy asks.

     "Oh, no, El. I was just thinking of how nice it would be to get wet and cool off. It seems you have granted my wish!" The old man winks as the boy leans back to study his face. 

     "I didn't know you were wishing... I just wanted to hear a story!" 

     "Well, let me see. Do you recall the story of the Gaidheal and the first Sgaith?"

The little boy shakes his head and pulls himself off of his grandfather's lap to settle comfortably on the ground beside him. Seolta lifts himself onto his elbow and points a gnarled finger toward the northwestern sky just over the boy's shoulder. 

     "Long, long ago... but not very long after the first dragon's eggs hatched, a beautiful, magical creature came to the holy city of Rhuidean. It arrived on the clearest night of the fullest moon on the middle-most day of Uanfast... which everyone knows is the coldest day of the year, and the only day that it can snow in the Wastelands. 

     On this night, there was no snow, and no clans camping near to herald the creature's arrival. It soared in on large wings of constantly shifting color, and landed near the fountain in the courtyard. The creature, not much larger than a Hamarean horse, settled down upon the grass like an overgrown kitten. And a cat of sorts it was... for it had the body of a cat, but one grown lithe, strong, and fierce. It's white tail swished about like that of a well-pleased cat, too. However, this was not a tail you would wish to grab, for at it's tip sat a hard, golden bulb with a long and wicked looking stinger. It's golden paws kneaded at the ground as it began to fall asleep, and its claws left long trenches in their wake. A thick, flowing mane settled around the creature's huge, cat-like head, giving it a most regal appearance as it dozed.  The sound of it's breathing was like distant thunder. 

     Just as the sun was thrusting itself over the edge of the world, Maera, one of the Gaidheal, awoke from a dream and could not seem to return to sleeping. After several tosses and turns, she finally decided to go for a walk in the courtyard. Can you imagine her surprise at seeing this amazing animal sleeping by the fountain there? What should she do? Should she run and wake the others? No, it may leave and then they might say she were dream walking. Should she try to frighten it away? No... there was something kind and gentle about its face that made her feel that it was no threat. So she spoke to it. 

     Gathering up her courage, she leaned in a little closer and, in her most calm and soothing voice, she greeted the animal. It raised its head and blinked its many-hued eyes.
     'Yes. You will do nicely.' It said. This was a very odd thing to say after just having met someone, and Maera was not sure that she felt at all comfortable with whatever it meant. She froze.

'Do not be afraid now. You have been brave enough to greet me, and I have traveled a very long distance to find aid. Will you be brave enough to help me?" The creature's voice rumbled lower than the thunder of its breath, but it sounded intelligent and kind. Maera nodded and, trembling, stepped closer.

     'Tell me, dear creature, what can I do to help you? I will do what I can.'

The beast smiled, if you can call it that, and lowered his head. 'I have something terribly sharp and irritating under my mane upon the back of my neck. I have no way of reaching it, and I have found no one willing to help me do so. Are you willing to climb upon my back and remove this thing?'

     Meara nodded. The thought that he could be tricking her into coming closer just to eat her or carry her off threatened to surface as she laid her hand on his neck, but she pushed it away. She had to help. Using his bent front leg as a step stool, she climbed onto his back. His mane was even more dense than she had thought. At once, the task of finding some small burr within that mass seemed quite daunting. But, Meara did not give up. She plunged her hands under the hair and immediately found the thing that had been hurting the creature, a thickly wound blackberry bramble branch.

'Here it is! Oh, and you are bleeding... Let me take care of that. I will be right back.' She dismounted and ran to the house of apothecary, returning with salve and bandages. Gone now was any thought of fear or timidity.  She was helping a friend. 

     She finished her work and stepped back to the ground. The creature thanked her graciously and swore that he and any of his kind that came after would always stand with her kind in friendship. He had no name and knew of none other like himself, so she gave his kind the name Sgaith, a word that means "wing" in the ancient language. His own name became Spion, or Thorn, as we would say today, to remind them of the day they met and the bond that was forged."