Chapter 1 The story teller

It was a brisk early winters night on the shore of Connemara. A bright full moon glistened over the dark churning waves as a group of Travelers sat around a dinner fire. The threat of winters first snow permeated the air with its crisp scent and eerie stillness, demanding that its presence be known. The Traveler people are of Irish blood and more hated than the Romanian gypsies for their thievery and begging ways. Especially in this, the year 1918.

 

  Three families conversed in low murmurs, their gayly painted wagons in the background and the sound of the waves lapping at the shore in the distance.Children ran between the fires and wagons with ceaseless energy as their parents watched over soup bowls and coffee mugs.They were away from settled people in this place and everyone was breathing a sigh of relief for it, a bit more relaxed. The war between the British and the IRA had made their lives tumultuous and there seemed to be no end to the suffering in some parts of Ireland. But here, at least for now, there was peace.

 

   Two young boys with dark hair and bright green eyes sat flanking an old man nursing a pipe. His own emerald eyes gazed into the fire, swimming in thought and a lifetime of knowledge. "Boys!" He exclaimed in a thick borough without warning, giving everyone around him a start. "Le' me tell ye o' the fairest lass in all the emerald isles. Fairer even than your grandmam in her younger days." The man looked to each boy with a wink and a coffee stained grin, earning himself a thump on the head from a black shawled old woman as she came to sit beside him.

 

   "Not that tale again Jimmy, I swear on me life i shall die on t'is very spot should I be hearin' it once more." She protested as she settled in like an old crow.

 

  He motioned away her griping and rubbed his smarting skull. A crowd had begun to form to hear his tale, faces young and old alike curious about the fairest in the land. The old man took another puff of his pipe and then he began:

 

  "Long ago there lived a people that wore the skin of seals. They not so much wore the skin as became the creatures and resided in the sea. T'was a rare and beautiful t'ing to catch a glimpse of a sealkin, or selkie, shed its skin and if a man could capture the skin of a selkie maid, he could take her for his bride."

 

  The old man took a moment to look at every male face around the fire before he spoke his next words. "It is against our ways to seek a wife in this way, for the wrath of the sealkin is nothin' any traveler man will be wantin' ta deal wit'." The old man chuckled whimsically. "Although in me younger days I'd of given a go at it once or twice." He shrugged and sighed. "But back to the tale at hand."

 

   "There lived among the selkies a lass smitten with a Traveler man. Whene're a caravan would pass along the shore she would emerge in her sealskin and plod along the sand in search of her secret love. It is said that he'd eyes blue as the waters themselves and hair the color a coal, with skid ruddy from summers sun. His family would pass once every season, when the time was right for the fishing, but the daft girl would search every traveler band in search of a glimpse of him nonetheless, as smitten lasses oft times do.

 

  Once a lad of the girls kind saw her searching the shore and heard her bark, as seals do, with glee at his return. The seakin man glared at the lass in her folly, for the male selkie is a ruthless thing to be sure. It was that day that he hatched a plan to make the lasses beauty the downfall of the traveling man.

 

  In his human form the selkie man was like any other of his kind. Brawny of build when in human form, with hair slick like seaweed and eyes of a black hue as a seal has. He belonged to the Kilkanam, the elite of his kind. Their job was ta protect the womenfolk from humans. They are a ruthless sort, determined to kill any man they cross for the way they treat the seals with such carelessness and take the womenfolk the way they do. T'is an understandable hatred to be sure.

 

  Woe come to any man who try and best them, and anguish to any lass who shed seven lonesome tears into the sea and take one ta her bed. Legend has it that should a lass do such a fool thing, he'll return to her seven years past and take any babe who be his. It's said that on a clear night, if the winds be in yer favor, ya can hear the half breeds awailin' and tis a sound so pitiful t'would break yer heart. But on with the tale at hand.

 

  One fine fall day not fifty mile from this very beach, the traveling man and his family were settin' down ta supper. The womenfolk had only just begun ta serve when a strange pale thing washed up upon the shore. The whole family took a grand start when they realized t'was a pale girl with wild black hair had washed up and a murmurin' began. "what do we do?" they wondered. "should we see if she's alive?"

 

  Well, the traveling man took it upon hisself ta find out. He walked up to the lass and bent low, clearing the sodden hair from her face. Hope left him then, for he saw that her pretty face were linen white, with lips the pale blue a the dead. He feared ta look at her chest to see if there were any signs of breathin', for she were naked as the day she were born. There was great doubt that one so fragile looking could survive the ruthless sea anyhow, so it was decided to lay her low. The traveling man reached out and touched her face with a work worn hand, and it were as if he were touchin' ice. So it was that he simply bowed his head, prayin' for her safe passage into the afterlife." It was at this point that a few of the girls sniffled, muttering that they thought this was going to be a love story.

 

 The old man glared at the girls in question, puffing at his pipe in agitation." Well if ya wouldn't be interuptin' me I could get ta that part." and silence fell again.

 

  "The lads grandmother covered the stranger in a sheet and the rest of the group payed their respects. It was decided that a pyre was to be built for the girls body. The womenfolk sniffled and cried at the tragedy that must've befallen her before she died, for what other explanation could there be for a lass with no clothing, wurshed up in the sea like that. The menfolk kept to themselves, building the pyre in stony silence. It was the traveling mans job to carry the lass to be washed by the womenfolk before she was to be lain low. He picked her up gently to carry her to a copper tub that the womenfolk had set up in a nearby field for the washing, close to the pyre to make things easier as it were.

 

  Well it so happens that as the traveling man was carrying the lass that'd come from the sea, something magical happened. The girls lashes began to quiver, and then they began to flutter, and her body stiffened as she began ta wake. Feeling the lass stir the traveling man stopped dead in his tracks and stared down at the girl he'd thought dead just moments ago. His gaze was met by one dark as the stormy sea when her eyes opened, and then she began to sputter and cough, hackin' up a mess o' sea water and clinging to the traveling man for dear life. Aft the whole mess o' sea water were out her lungs their eyes met, and somewhere the fates had ta be a' cacklin' at what they'd set ta goin'.Ya see boys, there comes a time, a moment rather, when a mans world stops turnin', and that's a frightful mess, for in that moment a man finds himself fallin' in love. For the traveling man this moment came when the lass began to breath. Her breaths came slow at first, and then she got ta panicing and heaved great breaths, her eyes goin' wide as saucers as she realized where she was and who was holdin' her.

    At the sight of the fire and all the humans about she lept from his arms in fear, stuttering out a few words in the old Irish tounge before disappearin' behind an outcrop o' rock, ne'er to be seen again. The whole scene was a frightful mess and the traveling man stood for some time in the very spot he'd stopped in, lookin' out at the waves for some sign of the mysterious and beautiful lass. As the hour were growin' late the lads bride ta be shook him from his stupor and sent him off ta bed. The whole of the family looked on at the frightful mess, wondering what had transpired. An eerie silence lay heavy as a woolen blanket over the group as they doused the pyre with sea water. Each clung to their family inside their cheery, colorful wagons on this queer queer night."

    The old man began coughing then, a bone wracking fit that snapped everyone to attention and out of their own thoughts. As a solution he began packing down his pipe with shaking hands in between coughs, lighting it and breathing in, exhaling with great relief before taking up his tale again. "Now then, I bet yer wonderin' what became a the lass. Well, she returned to the sea, goin' to the secret cove where she'd stashed her sealskin. Her human form made her weak as a wee babe, and the beating she'd taken in the currents hadn't helped matters either. Ya see, she'd gotten ill advice from the selkie man. He'd told her that by swimmin' sunward for tree days she'd be granted a way ta be wit the sea and her love all at the same time, instead it had nearly been the lasses death.

    The directions that the selkie man had given her had led the girl clean into merfolk lands, which was a sad place ta be. The merfolk are a dodgey people with pointed teeth and a tricky way about them. The beauty of their home is a decietful thing to be sure and it scared the seakin lass more than any human ever had. They have this guardian, the Kraken, that nearly tore the poor wee lass apart with its eight long tentacles. It has a great beak like a sailors parrot as well, and she'd nearly been dragged down into it before she bit the beastie and got herself away. The only saving grace to her ordeal had been waking up on a firmiliar beach in the arms of her human. Of course that had been a tainted thing as well, for when she'd awoken he'd been carrying her to certain death in a fire of all things! "Does he even know what I am?" The girl thought. "Does he find me desireable?" These were the things she pondered as she searched for her skin. She thought of how strong and warm he'd been, cursing herself for running from her greatest desire.

    Oh what was she to do, this seakin lass who had love for one not of her kind. Shame made her hang her head low, for this amarantha, this love, was a thing so forbidden that she dare speak of it to no one. Despite that here she was, followin' him from the water like a newborn pup. But then she thought of his difference from other humans, how his family live in wagons, they left for a time unknown and returned whene'er they pleased. These people dressed differently, ate differently, had different rules, and even spoke a different language than the others she'd seen on the mainland.

    So wrapped up in her thoughts was she that she nearly tripped over her own skin when she happened upon it. She wrapped it 'round herself like a cloak and then the transformation happened. The girls body shrunk and bent, her fingers fusing to fit snug into her flippers. Her legs twisted, growin' ta be one and she wriggled herself into her true form. Aft she were whole again she began watching her human as she always had. There was something very strange now though, a female who clung to her love as a mate did.

    This made the seakin lass sad, for he was hers. She'd seen no sign that he was mated, so she began searchin' for them. Swimmin' up ta the boats as he was fishing was no new thing for the lass, for she did it often when he came 'round her territory. The traveling man even took to callin' her his seal friend and stroked her belly as she rolled and twirled in the surf beside him.

    The selkie lass smelled him, and his scent hadn't changed. She saw no marks of mating upon his body either, so the presance of the human girl puzzled her more and more. "Perhaps humans mate differently." she thought. The thought angered her, making her want to challenge the human lass, which was a dangerous thing indeed.The risk to her people was far too great, foor their discovery would be the death of them all as it had almost been many times before. So the decision was made to return to the deep before pride got the better of her, back to the beauty of the selkie lands."

    He broke off then, took one last toke of his pipe, and looked up at the sky. "Time for the wee ones ta be gettin' off to bed lasses, and I as well."

    The women nodded, ushering the children off to their wagons with heads hung low, singing them a song as old as the tides themselves. The men watched the women and children go in a silence heavily laden with thought. Some of the unwed men watched the young girls coming into bloom with calculating eyes, others were fathers and husbands, keeping watch over their wives and daughters, lastly there was a group of about five old men, beaming with pride at their large families. The boys of about thirteen stayed up with the men, as was their right, until the hour grew late and the fires were outed and they scattered to tents and wagons, drifting off after a very long day.