A Winter's Day (Open- 1333)

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

In the family from Aberdeenshire, two threads ran a common course through the blood. One would either find the striking golden heads of the Norse conquerors or the dark, rich Auburns of either indigenous Celts or an occasional dark haired relation. Given that it had been some time since a longship sailed down the Isle coast with intention to dominant, maybe origin mattered little. What counted now was a person who wore the head, and the immediate person before them.

The day was as good as any in a Scottish winter. Snow fell in light, dancing swirls from fat clouds to already think embankments. If they had melted yesterday in the sun, the night made them fat again. Skye and Spring were strange. At times differing in months but always early, one could could tell it began in the middle month of the New Year. Winter wasn't bested so easily that it gave up the chill in the air. If the little party riding in the crisp, brown fields thought that the sun had triumphed than a little bit of snowflake would tap their cheek like a loving mother's hand.


Brom rode for once on the rear of the Lady instead of her immediate right or left. He did this because it was good to forfeit his stance for observing the men who were there instead. He hummed in the Norse an old song, while the auburn headed man at the left did the same. The pair laughed among themselves before he goaded the gold-headed woman at the center of the formation. "Won't ye sing, Beatha? Ye know the words better than us I hear. Asides, we'll stop the grass from growin' in spring, for killin it."

Beathag turned the large clydesdale about from the front to face them at a quartered angle. Tempted by the shoots he found in the snow, he began to nibble, ceasing the men with his body. She grinned, proud of herself. "Wot will ye give me iffn Ah sing for ye? Ye can't take back the time spent offended.." The young man whom rode to the right of her was now intent to also bar the path. His head was as golden as his aunt's, his voice held the same sort of timbre that could be beautiful or terrible. He was told his father had sounded the same way, and should he ever listen long to another man whom lived on the Isle, he would see why some things pass in the throat as well as on the face. " *Tante, leave them. They are too slow, too slow! Come and show me your forests, and I will guard you. Your Brom favors Uncle, anyhow. See?" Brom lifted his head, gasping at the audacity of the young man to insinuate that he and his uncle, Caldean, were lovers! For his own part Caldean brought a gloved hand to the bridge of his nose, flicking off a piece of snow, "Too many drinks n' too many taverns. You will become a man in church,if you tempt meh lad." Bryce, you're Tante shares the sediment. Come." The pair evaded Brom and Caldean, as they all trotted or cantered about the other. In time Brom fell back, watching as the three effortlessly put together lost years in this future.

Bryce, the silent one, had grown to become in his early twenties while Caldean was near the center of his thirties. Still, they all played, no better than children. They all spoke, though as secret would have it some forgot whom Bryce and Caldean were, which allowed them to fade into the fabric of life easily enough.

*Tante-Aunt, Norwegian

[Rhiannon MacBride]

Weather was never what one expected. Just yesterday afternoon Rhiannon had commented on the melting snow, how perhaps it meant the approach of a bit more warmth to the days, only to awake to find it thickly covering the land again. It blanketed the landscape in a beautiful way that made sun sparkle upon it as if diamonds hid in its depths. Though in other parts where horse hooves, wagon wheels, and more sloshed through it it could be found tainted by mud. Made to look gray and almost sludge-like. Most unpleasant.

This was why Rhiannon preferred to focus on that of the diamonds, pointing them out to children who walked with her this day in Fieldren Fields, while voice spun tales to make lips round and eyes widen.

"Ye tell 'n a fib!" Said one small lass, head the color of wheat turning to look up at her. The little one had only been upon the soil for four years and therefore was short in comparison to Rhiannon.

Lifting one brow, a shake of head setting short auburn curls to swaying, she gave a look of being offended,"Och, wee one, you think I'd tell you tall tales? There do be diamonds in the snow! Look they even glitter 'pon red cheeks."

One fair hand reached out to touch the little girl's cheek to point out a flake to the others that made them gasp and whisper. Aila let out a giggle. The four-year-old was the oldest of the handful of children that roamed with Rhiannon this day. Generally it took some convincing from those in the villages outside Turas Lan to let her inspect their children- to keep up on their health you see for wee ones tended to get sickier easier than adults- and then afterward she'd suggest methods to help those who were feeling poorly improve while handing out new little bundles.

Mostly cloaks, gloves, and shoes- things that were always needed. It allowed those at her side to be warm as they walked through the field, tossing snow at each other and laughing about Sprites who left diamonds hidden in the white depths. As odd as it some might find it for one who resided in a town house on Bryante Row- this is what she lived for. These days.

Hearing the sound of children's laughter filling the air and seeing only smiles of happiness upon wee faces. It made her heart swell with warmth and love. Little Aila was her favorite though. Picking the little girl up and swinging her around gently a few times she then did the same with the others. "Look at tha'! Guess those Sprites left a wee bit of dust to make you fly!"

This set another bout of laughter into motion. None took notice yet of the riders not far from them.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The riders weren't aware of those on foot yet, only one another. Bryce teased his aunt by poking at one shoulder before darting off just out of her reach. She didn't see this as a metaphor in the physical of the years of his life that had slipped out of her grasp. His childhood, the time between, and now him as a man was what she enjoyed now. Snowflakes stuck in thick, fat globs against their faces. A gray sky had begun to churn. "Look at tha', " Beathag told the elusive sir who gave chase, "Storm's a'comin in. Mayhap we should gae in." Caldean broke apart the sensible idea with a snow ball he'd packed while the two were playing. It slapped Bryce against the shoulder, causing his uncle to break out in gales of laughter. Beathag followed next, dismounting from Caldonhan. She intended to take revenge on behalf of the wronged. She intended to take revenge for the simple fact she was elder, and she could. How becoming of the Mo'r Oukselo! How fitting, how enobled! Gray skirts coursed upward as she went down, jumping about Caldean like the hound she was once namd for, the guise under which so many had met her. Here she was neither hound, nor banshee, nor the embodiment of a conqueror's Valkaryie. She was Beathag in a lively match with her brother for superiority. By the time Brycean joined in, he couldn't decide if it was for his uncle's assistance or his aunt's honor. He only knew that it was Caldean he took onto while being now under Beathag. They rolled, threw snow, broke apart only to reunite.


Rhiannon walked with children in her company while the adults ahead became them, at least in spirit. A good, rare snowfall was promised to stick to Skye!

Bryce would rise at last, passing Rhiannon's group as he canted his head, running in the opposite direction from his uncle, who'd suddenly joined ranks with his sister wherein the truce included is capture! "Pardon, m'lady! Good day, m'lady!" He bellowed. For her part, his aunt arched a brow in utter amazement at how humor loosened up her nephew's tongue. For the better part of these years since he was brought up from bondage in the King's Way Passages, it was only Caldean who spoke free at least in their pirvate company. Bryce held on to his thoughts as if he were afraid in giving them away, they'd never be his again.

"Come Beatha, we end our game. Folk approach. Tis nay fittin to see the High Lady sullied, n' bestin her brother despite her advanced age.." Caldean was not without his sense, though the game ended with a jab in his arm from a closed fist that promised it would go on later.

[Rhiannon MacBride]

Were they not all children? Perhaps not in the physical sense once adult, but to parents they would always be. And deep down inside lurked that eternal child always anxious to show itself at one time or another. Snow, it seemed, always inspired it to come to fore. Even Rhiannon was not afraid to admit that every so often the child came out. Like today! She romped with children, made Angel's in snow, and told entertaining tales just to hear her company's sweet laughter. It was the little moppet with hair spun from gold that she sought to make smile and laugh often.

Aila had lost her Mother and Father many months ago. She now resided with a distant Aunt, crotchety old spinster the woman was!, who did not understand how to care for a child. Some days Aila would go without food if not for the others in the little community. Rarely did she smile or laugh often which to Rhiannon was a sin. Children should always have smiles upon lips, glow to eyes, and the free flow of laughter. She'd taken to the little one immediately upon meeting her shortly after this tragedy. After seeing how that woman treated the little one? Well she went to setting the old hag to rights.

Now the woman knew to at least see that Aila was fed, bathed, and clothed. It was another woman in the village who frequently sent updates on the child to Rhiannon by means of her husband's trips into town for work. If anything changed where the woman was not taking care of Aila? Well, Rhiannon would see that she was taught to again.

Sweeping another little up to twirl about until laughter sounded and followed until all had their little dizzy moment. Each laid in the snow giggling. Yet it was more mature laughter that raised flame colored head to look in the direction where three adults played. Aila immediately tugged on Rhi's skirt to be lifted higher and she complied, returning friendly nod to the man while the children continued to play behind her.

"Ah, I see that not only do children enjoy the wonders of snow on this day!" Playful and pleasant, snow diamonds glittering in mussed fiery-red curls, Rhiannon could be compared to a snow nymph. She seemed to thrive in it with healthy glow to fair complexion. Even if she did not completely adore the cold to be found as snows companion. "How do you this day, High Lady?"

Aila's little face was buried against neck to occasionally peek out at the adults now gathering themselves.