Ancients

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In another Time the Allmother was tristful and alone, her eyes young and eager for love. Among the tall trees of her Place she wandered, ever yearning for a glimpse of her beloved. The breezes of the eventide whispered to her of his virtues, of his many deeds of bravery, the greatness of his Name… but her heart grew empty and cold with unfulfilled longings. Then there slipped in a shadow among the trees, another form, who moved in silent sympathy to listen to her lament, and in so doing bring her a small measure of comfort.

So soon her eager glance was for this shape that strayed only on the edge of vision, present at first in the subtle moving of ferns and the deepened shade of brush. Her words composed in morning meditation were meant for him to hear… her secret longings found an echo in his lingering presence. Closer he drew to her, and she would lure him, draw him out from where he was hiding. She played her emptiness away and was distracted from her grief till she looked only for the form of her friend among the sweet flowers and the silent lanes. At last, when he touched her, she did not shy away... and her love fell from its lofty perch of virtue, twisting her dreams of old into a stark regret and present guilt.

When finally the radiance of her husband strode into the garden, her smile was false as the open arms and perfumed bower, fabricated to hide her shame...

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