"You wouldn't believe all the things that have been going on in Kells. You'd think that things would settle down without the Northmen striking in years, but life has been as busy as ever."
"Hm." Is all I reply with. Brendan walks along the shore of the river while I travel alongside him on the rocks that peak out on the surface of the rushing water. The rocks are slick and shiny with water coating them. My feet make splashing noises with every step I take. Pangur doesn't dare even get close to the water. Instead, he trots beside Brendan, far away from the spray of the river crashing against the shore.
"People are coming to Kells in waves. They all want to seek refuge from the destruction the vikings left in their wake, but, because of the population change, our food supply has been low."
"Sorry to hear that. Where do you want to go, today?" He considers my offer for a moment.
"I'm working with the other illuminators to document some of the plant-life close to the abbey, but no one knows what a weeping willow tree looks like and, to be honest, my memory is failing me from last time..."
"You mean, the time I showed you the willow tree-"
"When I was a boy, yes." He finishes rather bluntly. I remember the tree so clearly. It's within walking distance from here, actually. It was a beautiful afternoon on that day. He was drawing on a stone tablet. I was teasing him. The days where he came every day I remember fondly. Nowadays, he only comes once or twice every few months. He will only come if he needs inspiration whether it be from the trees or the animals or sometimes he only comes to spend a few minutes gathering supplies. I am merely his guide to lead him to the best places in the forest to go. Yes, we are still friends. We play games with each other at times. We talk to each other, but it's not how it used to be.
"Come on, then. It's not far at all. I jump back onto the grass and travel away from the river, into the forest. Brendan follows and launches into something about the functionality of Kells as I tune him out. I understand that the people of Kells have complained about this or done that the first ten times he has told me. It's all he ever talks about now. But, whenever I bring something up from the past, he's quick to change the subject. He will never talk about the things he did when he was younger, when he was the illuminator of the book. As a boy, he would spin hopeful and whimsical tales of how he imagined the book would be like. He would tell me his visions of the future during the day and I would dream about them at night until he returns the next day with more. I absorbed and cherished his every word like a tree thrives in the sun. Those were the days I loved the most. Yet, even though the book is complete and the people of Kells crawl over each other to see it, it is as if the book never existed to him. When he finished, he disconnected himself from the book.
We're at the willow tree in no time. I watch him as he studies the delicate leaves, his icy-blue eyes careful and calculating. He whips out his tablet from a satchel he carries across his shoulder along with a piece of white chalk. Brendan's back settles against the trunk of the willow tree and lets the vines engulf him into it's secret hideaway. The shadows dance across his soft skin, slightly tanned from working outside and around Kells all day. I climb within the limbs of the tree, exploring the same world I've explored time and time again. But, the joy I feel when surrounded by the safety of the branches makes me feel alive every time.
I stare down at the crown of Brendan's amber hair that touches his shoulders. My knees wrap around the limb I am sitting on and I drop upside down to face Brendan. He looks up from his drawing to look at me and grins. "So, how's the book?" I inquire. His smile drops slightly and he shifts awkwardly in his place, clearly uncomfortable with my question.
"I haven't touched it in a while. I've been assigning Brother Tang to read the book to the villagers. He's a wonderful illuminator and I just can't find time anymore..." His voice trails off into silence, allowing only the whisper of the wind to fill it. His gaze is casted downward at the tablet in his lap.
"What about any new projects? Have you been illuminating at all?" I swing my legs over the limb of the branch and let them dangle above his head.
"No, not really. Whatever I make probably would be less than satisfactory anyway. I think time has done a number on my skills. I'm stale, Aisling." I roll my eyes and jump down from the branch. Brendan startles when I drop right in front of him and it's easy to snatch up the tablet in his lap. I hold it at eye-level. The branches are carefully detailed. The leaves seem to come alive on the stone surface. It truly looks as if the limp and stringy branches and emerald leaves are fluttering in the wind. Each line, each detail is captured on a single tablet. It truly feels as if the picture has a very life of its own. I hand the stone back to him.
"I'd say you haven't lost your touch at all, Brendan."