Sunlight peppered the hillside with bronze, bringing light to the flaming gorse. Rowena turned her head and revelled in its warmth. Her love of the sunlight had grown over recent years and with it so had her body. She was no longer the pale child who crept around in shadow and moonlight; now, she hid from it and longed for the bright beneficence of the sun She carried with her a sack of feed for the horses slung across her strong back, her long legs making little work of the steep incline. Several of the beasts loitered at the far side of the field, flicking tails and sly glances at each other. Upon her approach they raised their heads with interest and made move towards the bearer of their feast. The grass was hard now, December in the full vice of winter’s ice, and they were glad of the extra feed. Rowena knew that even though the animals were essential to the well-being of the clan this amount of feed was an indulgence on her Angus’ part. He treated his horses better than he treated the people that depended on him. Her breakfast had been a hard piece of bread and some mouldering cheese washed down with weak ale.
“Here!” she called, the word breaking the winter’s quiet. “Away and get your feed!”
A rumble of hooves against earth followed and they crowded around the trough as she tipped the oats and bran into it. Hot horseflesh pressed against her, forcing Rowena to make hasty her retreat from the field.
“Greedy wee devils,” she muttered, swinging skirts and legs over the fence. “Oh!”
She was not alone. Even worse than not being alone, she found herself accompanied by a stranger.
“You are lost, sir?” she said, dropping gracefully from the fence to stand facing him. “I do not ken your face and I see you are wearing better clothes than we have seen these past years.”
“I am not lost, Rowena. I am far from lost.”
She started at the use of her name, being of the opinion that a stranger knowing your name without an introduction was not a good portent. “You’ve me at a disadvantage for I do not know your name.”
“My name is not important. You would not recognise it if I told you.” His dark eyes watched her; no, she thought, they are cutting through me like Angus’ axe through a tree’s belly. “I am come to discover if the child is ready to see her future.”
A memory stirred. Moonlight, fear and longing all moved slowly across her mind’s plateau. She had forgotten something, something important, and now that she needed to remember it she found her memory failed her.
“I don’t…”
“Then you are not ready.” He had such a look of sadness on his face that Rowena gathered herself against her weak memory and willed something, anything, to return to her.
“Fedelm.” The name was the only thing she could manage, and when she spoke it she found herself surprised by elation at its recollection.
The laugh he gave was riven with triumph. “The child has her remembrances still. And do you recall what Fedelm told you?”
“She spoke of water and of my future. I did not understand then, and I understand even less now. I have my place by the water. My future is here.” The wind rose about them; her hair fought free of its bindings and several strands conspired to hide her face. “Are you of her kind?”
“I am Midhir.” The look of incomprehension on her face made him smile, and she found she enjoyed the warmth that his smile provoked in her. “I told you it would mean little to you. You see me as a stranger, yet it is you who is the stranger to your own self. Come with me.”
Rowena thought of Angus, could see his hard body bending to crack the wood so that they could live. Fuel and trade all came from Angus’ hands and put food on their table. She was to be married to him soon enough; the whole clan were looking forward to the celebration. Still, this beckoning was insidious.
“What will you show me, Midhir? Will I see a future greatly planned for me? Will you trick me into your world and keep me there while I sleep soundly in this one?”
He laughed loudly, a glad sound that broke their horses from their feed and made her look to the ground for fear she would join him in the merriment.
“Who are you, Rowena Ravenclaw of Winterseam? Are you a timorous child or a woman whose mind is beyond that of those with which she shares her life? Can you see something in my eyes that reminds you of some other place?”
“I can only see your eyes.” A further memory; turrets and banners and Fedelm’s eyes surfaced, yet she preferred his eyes. Deep as a dream and brown as dying heather, they watched her with no guile.
“Of course you can. I do not have Fedelm’s trick with the future. Did she tell you anything of substance; I know she can be a conundrum when the mood takes her to be so.”
Rowena found that the image of Angus had faded. “She told me my future was by the water. As you can see” “ she gestured down to the basin of the valley “ “I have all the water I need here.”
“Come with me and let me show you another body of water. She said you were not ready when you were small, but you have grown beyond such doubts, I feel.”
“I could not leave””
“Leave the beasts and your burden? What would you leave behind but strife?” He had moved closer, his green cloak brushing the ground and fetching new growth from dead seed. Still, he did not touch her.
“I am to be married.”
Midhir’s face darkened at that and a furrow appeared beneath his brows. “This is news indeed. To whom?”
“Angus McDougal. He is a good man who would keep me well.”
“WELL!” His face paled as his words grew hot. “This is not your life. This is not the life that has been chosen for you. You have been given time enough to be innocent but now you must accept your future and leave this “ this folly behind.”
“I will leave naught behind.” Rowena was nothing if not stubborn and now this failing came to the fore. “This is my place. I wish you people would stop bothering me and let me alone to live my own life. You tell me I am one of you yet I do not recognise your face or your name. I am a Ravenclaw of Winterseam and will always be so.”
“Dagda preserve us from foolish women and their principles! So be it. I shall have to send someone else. I have failed this day, Rowena Ravenclaw, and I shall suffer for it. Think on that when you do finally come home.”
A raven flashed across the hillside, coming so close to Rowena’s face that she closed her eyes and raised her hand to deflect it. When she opened her eyes again, Midhir had gone and she was left to the cawing of the birds and the soft munching of the horses’ mouths.
“This is what you get for dreaming of things beyond your ken, Rowena,” she said to herself in a stern voice. “Men on mountainsides and women in forests.” With long strides, she returned to her homestead and the warmth of the fireside. Whatever these people were, they were bothersome in the extreme.