Beannaithe Makes a New Friend
This evenin' I began me storytellin' straight away after supper...
'The next mornin' began as usual for Beannaithe. After a fine breakfast she spent some time gardenin' with her granda. When he weren't lookin' the lass slipped away. She went to the barn, retrieved a large sack containin' her snail-inspried armour, placed it on a small cart, then wheeled it into the village pretendin' to be on an errand. While in the village she gathered provisions for her journey as it would take a few days to reach her destination.
The villagers were always friendly to Beannaithe. Over the years they'd grown accustomed to the strange lass who were unable to speak. They knew just what things her grandfather the farmer needed from them. They placed the items in her cart. Beannaithe smiled and waved her thanks them then went on her way.
One particularly curious merchant noticed the large sack in her cart. He could not help askin', "What's in the sack?"
Pretendin' not to know, Beannaithe shrugged.
"Sorry, lass, I keep forgettin' that ye cannot speak. May I have a peak?"
Beannaithe's eyes widened. She extended her hands and arms, fingers up and palms forward, and shook her head. "Hoo!" she said.
"Oh, all right, it's somethin' secret is it?" the merchant teasingly said to her.
Beannaithe smiled and giggled.
"Good day to ye, lass!" the merchant said with a wave.
Beannaithe breathed a big sigh of relief after she'd put some distance between her and the nosey merchant.
When she reached the edge of the village she hid behind some bushes, donned her armour, then strolled down the path that led in the direction of the Long River. She crossed the ford when she came to it then, makin' sure there were no dangerous beasts about, examined the maps that Fikta had left her. Although she could not read the captions, she could see the silhouette of a horse drawn on the northeastern side of the vale.
It were an arduous journey to White Horse Hill. The path were steep enough, but eventually she'd need to leave the path to reach her destination. It were rocky, and in some places the footin' could be treacherous. She climbed to a high point to gain a vantage point of the hill.
She saw that she would need to cross a rushin' stream that lay between her and the white horse depicted on the hillside. She carefully made her way down to the stream, then tossed a rope with a grapplin' hook that anchored itself onto a small tree. With a firm grasp on the rope she crossed the stream. Without the rope the rushin' water would likely have washed her down the hill with disastrous results.
She crept up the hill on the other side of the stream to where at last she could see the white horse design. She gasped when she saw what, or should I say who, she found lurkin' about.
"What were goblins doin' here?" she thought with alarm. "No, they'll kill the steed of great worth that Áine spoke of!"
She reached for Claíomh Solais only to find that, despite Áine's warning, she'd forgotten it.
"What shall I do now?" she wondered. It were all she could do not to cry in frustration.
Knowin' that without her sword she hadn't a chance against so many goblins, Beannaithe sadly crossed the stream, gathered the rope and hook, packed it in her bag, then begin to make her way back to Lyndelby to retrieve Claíomh Solais.
Suddenly Beannaithe heard a neigh and saw a flash of white out of the corner of her eye. "The goblins hadn't killed the steed of great worth!" she gleefully thought.
She started walkin' in the direction that the steed had gone, but it had vanished from sight. Beannaithe examined the ground where she found hoof prints in the sod. Quickenin' her pace she followed the tracks where they ended without further sign of the steed.
Disappointed, frustrated, and more than a wee bit peckish, Beannaithe found a shady tree to sit beneath while she ate some of the provisions she had brought. There were cold meats, bread with butter, and a ripe red apple. She hungrily took a bite of the crisp apple. It crunched as her teeth sunk into it. Just then she heard a whinny. It were the steed of great worth!
Beannaithe stood then extended her arm with the apple restin' in the palm of her hand. She nodded to the steed as if to say, "Go ahead, take it." The steed accepted her invitation. Beannaithe stroked the steed's flank while it crunched the apple. Not able to speak, Beannaithe made cooin' sounds to calm the beast. It nuzzled her hand. Beannaithe had made a friend.'
It were then that me daughters appeared to take their wee ones to bed. There were complaints, of course, particularly from Darowva who like most lasses adored horses and ponies.
'Tis late, Darowva,' her mother Ériu said. 'You'll be cranky all day tomorrow if ye don't get your proper sleep.'
'All right,' Darowva relented.
'Oíche mhaith!' I said after me grandkids as their mothers led them to their beds.
'Good night, Granda,' they wearily mumbled.
