The mists garb the world in shadow and mystery. Where light can be seen it is the silvery glow of the full moon.
The light does nothing to dispel illusion. Instead it creates a land of fantasy.
The mists part to reveal a female of incomparable beauty. Long golden hair cascades down her back, slanted eyes are emerald green, her body is sensually rounded and her presence cannot be denied.
She smiles and it is an arrow to the heart. She raises one hand gracefully and crooks her finger to beckon.
He is lost and follows.
He is never seen again.
Tuatha dé Dannan were ‘peoples of the Danu’ and are often referred to simply as ‘the Fae’. Across Ireland they are still respected, often revered and usually feared.
In their chosen glades they sing and dance in the moonlight and their parties are unmatched.
They are alternately guardians of the forests and punishers of the wicked. In olden times it was not unusual for them to grant aid and knowledge to those they chose. It was also not unusual for them to bewitch and abduct hapless mortals who crossed their paths.
What became of those mortals?
Some were never seen again…
Some returned after years later believing only days had passed, while some returned the next day in the belief years had passed.
Tales are told of females held in thrall to their Fae lovers and of those who were bound only to be wet-nurses to mortal babies stolen from their parents (and replaced by changelings). Human males were not exempt - for they were equally likely to strike the fancy of a female Fae. (Since mortals do not have as much stamina as the Fae this may not have been as much of a pleasure as it sounds…)
They were more than humans could hope to be yet less than we are.
They have the gift of immortality and the centuries have taught them wisdom. They understand harmony and balance in a way that we have only begun to grasp. Yet they are cold and uncaring in most tales for they have not learned compassion. They cheat and plot and scheme with a capacity for deceit that exceeds ours. Their ability for spiting an enemy who has insulted them is stunning both in its strength and the length of their memory.
They appear in poetry; in Shakespeare; in old stories and modern fantasy…
They questions remain: Are they real? Or are they myth?
Are they still there lurking in the hidden places or in a reality we cannot see or enter?
Do you think you would like to meet one?
Were the mists to part and you to face the grace and beauty that is a Tuatha dé Danann – what would you do?
Would you wish to be taken to their realm? Would you cast mortal care aside for music such as human ears have never heard; for beauty and laughter and the endless dream?
If you were offered food that smelled as though it would satisfy every hunger you had ever known – would you eat, knowing you could never return?
Or would you turn and run, flinging salt over your shoulder and gasping the words to the first prayer you think of?
No comments:
Post a Comment