Wandering Home

A/N: My apologies for this being so late. Things are getting out of control. And my dear muses have decided to abandon me in recent times. But here we are again. Hopefully this is at the same caliber that you all expect. As always, nothing, except the things you don't remember from the movie are mine.

Chapter 6: Glinting Fire

As the Grainne and Alannah finished their supper, Grainne could not but help state at the place where Meara had been sitting honing the blade. On the old wooden floor, there were shards of blade and stone in a little pile that glimmered in the candlelight. As the candles flickered, Grainne caught a glimpse of what she knew was the past.

Reflected in the light, she saw herself and Meara as they had been as small children, before Alannah was born. Even at the age of two, Meara had always had a head of fiery curls. In the image, she saw their past selves playing in the stream that had been near their village. Nearby the village boys were wrestling in the shallows. Grainne's present self gave a slight chuckle when she saw little Meara totter off to play with the boys that were years older than she was. 'Ever the fighter' Grainne thought. She saw her younger self run off to her younger sister and attempt to draw her away from the rough playing boys.

"Grainne…Grainne!" Alannah's voice cut through her memory and the pitcher in her hand dropped to the floor and shattered. "Grainne, where is your head at?"

She shook out her auburn locks and drew a hand across her forehead. "Gabh mo leithscéal. I had forgotten myself for a moment."

Alannah took a long look at her sister. "Tis about Meara, is it not?" Grainne refrained from looking her younger sister in the eye. "Ye saw something, didn't ye?"

Grainne gave a stiff nod. Throughout her whole life, Grainne had been trying to deny that she had the Bua na Amharc. Their seanmháthair was the last one to have it. It annoyed Grainne to no end because it had a nasty habit of happening at the least opportune times. Since she never desired training in the arts of the Bua na Amharc, she was forced to deal with it in her own quiet way. "Aye, I saw."

Alannah swept up the shards of the clay pitcher. "Tell me what ye saw. It could be important!"

"Important? How could a scrap of the past be important here? 'Twas not nothing of consequence." Grainne reached for a scrap of cloth to tie back her hair. "Twas only a memory from before ye were born."

A snort of derision from Alannah told Grainne that her little sister did not believe a word she was saying. "Tis truly nothing. The only thing that I learned from this is that we need to let Meara be and get ourselves to bed."

Alannah cast a glance at the door. "What of Meara?"

"She'll return when she wants. She is a grown lass after all."

Meara, on the other hand, was not securely tucked in a bed inside safe walls. With her storm blue cloak wrapped tightly around her, she wandered about the fort, heedless of where she was going. Her mind was raging and she needed something to temper her restlessness.

Another few random turnings brought her to the smithy. The fire was still stoked and roaring invitingly. When she walked closer, the dancing flames reflected in her eyes. Seeing no one about, she lay her cloak safely to the side and donned a scarred leather apron. From her belt, she removed the blade she had filched from the armoury. Holding it tightly with tongs, she heated it deep within the heart of the blaze, waiting for the metal to turn a glowing red. Removing it from the heat, she began to take a hammer to it to create a folded and beaten edge that would never need to be honed on a whetting stone ever again.

Out of view, the forge master, Aedan, watched this young woman, pounding out all of her frustration on the blade she was forging. As he watched, she realized that while she had no formal training, she had quite a knack for smithing. He knew that she was one of the strange newcomers a the fort, and he had also heard the talk that the three sisters were sent her to destroy the fort. He believed none of it.

"Pardon me miss…"

The sound of Aedan's voice over the din of the hammer made Meara give a slight jump.

"Me apologies miss, didn't mean teh a'fright ye." He stepped into the light so Meara could see who was talking to her.

"Who are ye?" she questioned, never once stopping her work.

"I'm Aedan th' forge-master 'round yonder fort. Tis my forge ye'd be usin'." He watched her work on the dirk blade. "Careful now; ye don't want to obliterate yonder blade." He took the hammer from Meara's hand and began to beat the edges out properly. "If'n ye be wantin' a proper beaten edge, ye need teh do dis…" He showed Meara the proper technique of creating an edge.

Always an eager student, she carefully watched the elderly forge-master. The bald spot on the back of his head glistened with sweat in the light of the forge fire. He was a stout man, content to work in his forge until the Goddess decided to claim him once again.

She gave a small laugh as Aedan waddled about the forge area, finishing the blade. "Tis a good blade," he remarked, ignoring the laugh Meara had done. "Twas made in Ireland, I believe, if'n I'm not mistook."

"Aye," Meara said. She was not about to reveal the true origin of the blade. If she did, Arthur was sure to have her head.

"I was watchin' ye earlier, miss, and I took notice o' how ye worked. Ye've got some talent, miss, if I may say so meself." Aedan noticed the slight blush of embarrassment that crept into Meara's cheeks. "How'd ye like the work here as me apprentice? I can teach ye everythin' 'bout bein' a smith. 'Sides, I'm getting' on in years, and not as quick as I once was. I could do with the 'elp anyways."

Meara was astounded by the simple offer. Realizing that this could be the chance of a lifetime, she nodded her head in agreement.

"Brilliant! Ye can start tomorrow at daybreak. Oh, just give me yer name, missy."

"Meara Deirdre O'Cearnaigh of…"

'No need for the full title miss Meara. That'll do."

Upon hearing the crunch of gravel outside of the forge, Meara took the newly finished blade and slung it towards the sound. There was a loud 'thunk' as the blade sunk deeply into a wooden post.

From the shadowy spot where Meara had thrown the blade, Tristan walked forward, a piece of his tunic missing from his shoulder. Taking a bite from the apple in his hand, he quirked an eyebrow at Meara.

"Are ye the one who threw that?" he gestured towards the dirk.

"What of it?" Meara looked at Tristan carefully, trying to determine what game he was trying to play with her.

"Next time ye throw a blade, take better aim." With a wry smirk, he added, "Ye failed to kill me, missy." Taking another bite out of his apple, he turned away and walked back towards the Knights barracks.

Meara spun around and looked at Aedan, questions behind her eyes. Aedan gave a soft chuckle. "'E's a strange one, that scout. Always creeping about all silent like. Aye, but 'e's deadly on a battlefield." Aedan gave Meara a pat on the shoulder. "Don't fret, missy. In Tristan language, that was him sayin', 'On your break tomorrow, meet me out in the practice yard so I can teach ye properly.'"

"He wants to teach me?"

"Aye, an' consider yerself lucky at this chance too, missy. Tis not everyday Tristan offers to teach strangers 'is deadly arts."

Outside, the wall guard called out "Midnight and all's well."

"Ye best get home, missy. Ye be needin' yer sleep If ye're going teh work at sunrise. Off ye go."

Grabbing her cloak and the dirk, Meara nearly skipped back home. She found her two sisters still awake and around the hearth sipping tea.

"Siurs, I have the best of news!" Meara danced about the room, unable to control her excitement. It was a drastic change from the dark mood she had been in earlier that night. "I've got meself a smithy job! I'm starting at sunrise tomorrow. See what the forge-master Aedan taught me tonight." She proudly showed off the beaten edge on the stolen dirk. Meara became a little more subdued when she began to relate her other bit of news. "While I was at the forge, I slung this blade at Tristan who was lurking in the shadows. He told me that he wants to teach me to be a better handler of weapons. Well, not in so many words, but that's what he told me."

Grainne and Alannah were dumbfounded at the change in their sister. But since she was displaying some of her normal characteristics, they were not as worried as they could have been.

"This is wonderful news, siur," Grainne said. "Now, if you would kindly shut the door and get to bed, I think we all would appreciate it."

Meara gave Grainne a playful shove. "Aye, máthair," she teased. Gathering up the things she had strewn about on her arrival, she went off to the bed chamber that all three sisters shared.

"She seems better," Alannah remarked.

"Aye, she does. The Knight Tristan is in for a surprise tomorrow on the practice field. Mayhap we should warn him?"

"And miss out on the show of a lifetime? I say nay! I'd rather watch such a spectacle. T'would be good fun."

"Aye, ye be right there. I know, we'll take the day off from our chores and pack a picnic lunch for the practice field."

With a conspiratorial laugh, the other two sisters went off to join their sister in sleep.

Gaelic lesson of the Day:

Gabh mo leithscéal – I'm sorry

Bua na Amharc – Gift of Sight

Seanmháthair - grandmother

Máthair - mother