The Bard's House - Kildare
All poets and bards are welcome at my home, a haven for quiet, private reflection and a forum for spirited public discussion. The inspiration of Brighid is both a boiling cauldron and a peaceful font.

Gorsedd: A Gathering of Bards
Author: Ollamh of Leinster - Eldrich Niall, Patron
Date: Nov 27, 1999

The Righ Mikele chose the perfect site for The Bards' House, along the
quiet path that leads to the druid's grove. The doors of the structure
open into a large main hall, with the luxury of several windows making it
a bright and airy place. The windows also provide pleasant views of the
surrounding landscape. To one side of the main hall lies the Ollamh's
private quarters. On the other side there is ample space for guests.

Stepping out into the brisk morning, Eldrich breathes deeply of the musky
scent of fallen leaves and autumn dew. Slowly he strolls the perimeter of
his new home, casting blessings as he goes. Then he sits down to rest on a
sunlit bench by a small pond, composing his thoughts.

My home will be a gathering place for all the bards and poets of Tara, he
smiles to himself. Knowing the fiery temperments of most poets, Eldrich
pictures spirited debates, animated discussions and, best of all, Brigid's
flaming inspirations pouring forth in the words of stories and songs both
ancient and newborn. This will be a haven for praises, satires, love
songs, laments, warrior's legends and hymns to the gods, blessed by the
breath of Erin's finest bards.

Lost in his reverie, Eldrich gazes into the pond, passing the morning away
with his daydreams.

Message: Yawning and stretching
Author: - Fleury CuChulainn, Patron
Date: Nov 27, 1999
I open my eyes and am temporarily baffled until I remember where I was.
The room looked so different with the morning sun streaming through the
windows. I languidly stretch once more when I see that no one is about
and release a happy, well rested sigh. Getting out of the bed that was
prepared last night, I smooth out the blankets and make it presentable
once more. I look about for Eldrich's servant, to thank her for making
the bed up, but she is nowhere to be seen. Out of the corner of my eye I
see movement through one of the windows, and I turn to see Eldrich
surveying his property. To give him more time alone before going out and
disturbing him, I set myself to untangling my rather dishevelled hair. I
am always amazed just how much hair can get itself into knots in one
night...

Finally done I emerge into the sunlight and spot Eldrich sitting on a
bench by a small pond, lost in his thoughts. Feeling rather impish, I
walk quietly up behind him and wrap my arms about his neck and give him a
friendly hug.

"Good morning my friend. Are you enjoying your new home?" As he glances
out towards the pool and nods wistfully, I join him on the bench and muse
aloud...

A brand new day brings a fresh new start
Another chance to refresh and renew
The songs of birds to brighten the heart
Bare feet dance in the morning dew

A brand new day to come what may
The possibilites abound
To abandon reserve and enter the fray
Who knows what can be found

New beginnings in a strange new land
A place to call your home
So as a friend I stretch out my hand
You need not begin alone

I glance and Eldrich and grin rather sheepishly, "Just something I woke up
with, and a way to thank you for your hospitality."

Message: The dark night had passed....
Author: Lucan, Armsmaster to - Mikele Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Nov 28, 1999
and morning brought a crisp new day wrapped in a sunlight that put the run
on the creeping chills of winter. Lucan mused over his forge, tap-tapping
the final figures and textures into the silver cauldron that was to be his
gift to the new Ollamh. Rich in mythic detail the cauldron told the story
of the Baoisgne from the first heroic roots. Lucan was not much for words
but had found expression in his hammer.

With one last tap he smiled and straightened his gigantic frame. None
other had ever stood as tall as Lucan, he was indeed a giant among giants,
but his gentle disposition had dictated a life as a craftsman and he could
not have been happier. Working with Rolando, Mikele's father and Gerald,
their chief porter, since he was a young child he hd found his gift early
and focussed so that mastery had come quickly in the eerie din of the
clanging forge. His handiwork now was evidence of that mastery. He
polished it with a woolen cloth, wiping the last vestiges of soot and
hammer dust from its surface. So pleased was he that he decided to take
the cauldron immediately to the new Ollamh's home despite the earliness of
the hour.

Making his way along the path towards the grove Lucan's giant frame almost
seemed as a small boys, as he alternately admired his handiwork and the
beauty of the rolling countryside around Kildare. Approaching the
Ollamh's home he saw him relaxing on a bench by the pond with what must be
a houseguest. Lucan approached reverently, and as usual all the words he
might have imagined saying draining fom his mind as water from a ducks
back. In the end he stood silent, his very mass yearning to announce his
presence, some feet away, while the Ollamh and his guest laughed and
composed in the freshening sun.

Message: Fleury's gift of words
Author: Ollamh of Leinster - Eldrich Niall, Patron
Date: Nov 29, 1999
Fleury's gift of words moves the Ollamh to smile and respond in kind. "Indeed it is a morning of
mornings today," he remarks solemnly, and taking her soft hand in his
rough palm, the old druid says

"Dewdrops adorn the spider's lair,
Garlands of birdsong hang in the air,
Children sing, silver bells so fair,
Sunrise blushes without a care,
As I lie tangled in her hair:
What will become of the morning?

Dew is gone, the web is torn,
A warbling linnet is forlorn,
The young grow old to grieve and mourn,
A watchman sounds his evening horn,
Out of the dusk, stars are reborn.
What has become of the morning?"

Just then Eldrich notices a burly man standing nearby, holding an
intricately worked silver cauldron. How long he has been standing there,
who knows? When Eldrich and Fleury turn their attention to him, he opens
his mouth as if to speak, then shuts it again - several times. Finally he
simply holds out his fine gift to the Ollamh and a broad smile shines
through his beard.

Eldrich takes the wondrous object in both his hands and slowly turns it
around, admiring the detailed scenes that play out as it moves. "You must
be Lucan, the armsmaster!" he finally exclaims, setting the cauldron
carefully aside so that he may grasp Lucan's powerful forearms in a formal
greeting. "I have heard tell of your craftsmanship. No other could make
such a splendid gift!"

"I am he," Lucan mutters and although he bows humbly to the Ollamh, the
pride can be heard in his quiet statement. Having delivered the cauldron
and seen the poet's joy at receiving it, he turns to depart.

"Stay and share breakfast with us, Lucan!" Eldrich insists, clapping his
hands for his servant. In a short while, a table is spread with fresh
bread, meats, eggs, butter and cheese enough to feed a small war band. The
servantwoman has artfully arranged an assortment of nuts and apples inside
the cauldron, which sits in the center of the table on a wreath of pine.
Fleury, Eldrich and Lucan fill their platters and settle down comfortably
in the sunlit hall.

Message: The invitation to break fast......
Author: Lucan, Armsmaster to - Mikele Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Nov 29, 1999
The invitation to break fast was more than Lucan had ever dreamed of. His gift had been meant to
honour the Ollamh and now he himself was feeling honoured here before him.
Strange the ways of bards he thought, how the very best of them were at
once the commonest of men and the most extraordinary. Lucan's big hands
broke a loaf of day old bread and twisted a piece of the hardy tack into
the honey sweetened oatmeal mash before him.

And while he was not a man of words he quite enjoyed basking in the sun
flowing into the windowed chamber as teh poets bantered back and forth.
He was almost twice their height and perhaps three times their weight but
he felt like a child next to them as their words flitted like hummingbirds
around the brightening space. Life would be good here in Kildare with
such as Eldrich stirring the pot of memory.

Lucan smileda contented smile and admired once again the cauldron he had
fashioned for the Ollamh. It was a thing of beauty.

Message: Having just come from morning song in the grove...
Author: Druid - Thalada Parisii
Date: Dec 3, 1999
Thalada approached the Ollamh's new home to the smell of smoke mingled
with the more pleasing waftings of the breakingof the fast on the breeze.
Already the place seemed to embody an open invitation and stepping from
the unusually warm late fall sun through the open door he noticed
immediately that a few people were already there along with the Ollamh
enjoying perhaps their first breakfast in the the place. Despite his
familiarity with Roman buildings Thalada was still surprised to find a
wooden floor in this place and he steeped gingerly towards his host who
had risen to greet him.

"Ollamh Eldrich, I did not have the chance to congratulate you personally
last evening on your selection as Ollamh but I did want to make you
welcome here by stopping by." Thalada grasped the older druids forearms
extended in greeting. "And being somewhat of an amateur poet myself I
thought I might avail myself from time to time of your criticisms....and I
expect them to be many if I am any judge of my own work."

Eldrich's wisened face broke into an infectious smile evoking a similar
response from Thalada, whose face barely seemed abl to contain one. He
was after all a very serious man.

Message: Completely enthralled
Author: - Fleury CuChulainn, Patron
Date: Dec 3, 1999
Completely enthralled by the selection of food and the comfortable conversation, I am rather
startled by the appearance of a man in the doorway. He moves forward and
greets Eldrich, who had risen to greet him, and I regard him with
curiosity. I can tell he is a druid of high rank, and he looks familiar
but I know we have never actually met. Perhaps he had been at the
festivities in the hall the night before...

Not wanting to interfere in their conversation, I smile at Lucan and ask
him of his work. "So Lucan, you have definitely mastered your craft, that
cauldron is beautiful, have you been at it long?" The large man looked
rather startled by my question and I smile warmly at him once more. As I
await his answer, my gaze strays to Eldrich when I hear his low, rumbling
chuckle.

Message: Warmed by Thalada's rare smile
Author: Ollamh Fili - Eldrich Niall, Patron
Date: Dec 3, 1999
Eldrich gestures to the long table upon which is arrayed a break fast
suitable for a small army. "Fill your belly, my friend!" he invites his
fellow druid. "Let us sit and talk for awhile. I heard the druids singing
the sun song this morning early. Being unfamiliar with the people here, I
did not know so many gathered at dawn. From the voices, there must have
been at least twenty! I have not yet been to the grove - perhaps we could
walk there together later."

Thalada's misty gaze drifts from Eldrich's face to the table of food and
then to the amazing wooden floor of the hall.

"Oak," Eldrich announces proudly. "The Righ's craftspeople are both
creative and practical, are they not?" He taps his foot on the boards,
like a child testing a new toy.

Message: Startled by the younger druid's request......
Author: Lucan, Armsmaster to - Mikele Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Dec 3, 1999
Lucan managed a smile as she commented on the craftmanship of his
cauldron. Looking at it again he failed to notice the shift in her gaze
and summoning his limited array of words he offered over misted eyes as
they followed the intricate curves in the silver. "Yes, I have been at it
my entire life."

The love of metal shone so clearly in his eyes that anyone looking at him
might have thought him daft to be so entranced by something that held no
soul. But he knew better than they, perhaps better than anyone, the true
heart of the metal. It came to him in dreams and visions as the etched
and pounded visions on this cauldron had. For some the otherworld poured
through their words, for some it showed in their actions but for Lucan it
showed in the metal that he put his hand to. No one noticed this though.

Message: As the Armsmaster speaks
Author: - Fleury CuChulainn, Patron
Date: Dec 3, 1999
my gaze is instantly drawn back to the burly man, and I notice him gazing
wistfully at his creation. For a man of little words, he speaks volumes.
The one sentence, "Yes, I have been at it my entire life." says more than
many a well rehearsed speech. The tone of his voice belies a passion far
greater than many experience. "You are lucky to have been able to do what
you love from an early age. Many do not find their true calling until
much later in their lives. Have you always known?"

Message: Lucan's eyes were drawn back ......
Author: Lucan, Armsmaster to - Mikele Baoisgne, Patron
Date: Dec 4, 1999
to the pleasantly inquisitive face of the young woman who had first asked
him about his work. Wide open, honest caring eyes gazed back at him. His
own earnestness was such that most people found it slightly unnerving but
she seemed not the least disturbed. Something in her calm gaze allowed
Lucan to find his voice once again. Staring levelly at her he answered.
"Yes, I have always known."

His memories swept back to the imposing figure of Rolando Baoisgne,
Mikele's father, sweeping the small boy Lucan up into his arms and
carrying him from the burning remnants of a peasant's hut. Later, much
later, Rolando and his porter Gerald had told him the story of the raids
and the death of his parents. He had never known them but Gerald had one
day brought him the tools of his fathers trade. His hands had barely
touched them when he felt the surge of power that seemed to flow ...he had
thought at first from them, but had later come to know that it came from
his own hands, from inside him.

Since that time he had poured so much of himself into the metal that
sometimes he wondered if there was some danger of losing himself entirely.
But it seemed inexhaustible and so he had come to a comfortable
accomodation with what he had come to call 'the feeling' .....a thing he
spoke of only to himself and never aloud. His eyes were drawn back to the
cauldron.....its images shouting out meaning and nuance as if they were
the rushed words of some frantic messenger.

Message: Walking along the path to the Ollamh's residence,
Author: Kir, messenger girl of - Mary Iceni
Date: Dec 4, 1999
I think to myself of all that has happened since I left Iceni lands to
deliver messages...first to Lord Cathal's Lady Ardanna in Dun na
Righfennidh, then to Princess Moira Baoisgne and her brother the Righ of
Leinster here at Kildare. I wonder what was in the message for Moira that
made her panic.
The Princess may have concealed it well from her brother and Ollamh
Eldrich, but not from me. It is hard to hide one's emotional state from a
messenger.
Suddenyl, I find myself near the door of the Ollamh's home and I hear
several voices withing, including Eldrich's. I decide he has enough
guests on his hands for the moment, and sit on the bench outside to wait.
The weather is very nice and soon I am dozing happily.

Message: I sit quietly,
Author: - Fleury CuChulainn, Patron
Date: Dec 10, 1999
watching the varied emotions play across the armsmasters face. His
devotion and love for his work, obvious for anyone to see, should they
take the time to look. Alas, too many people just don't bother to really
look at one another anymore. Too busy tending their herds and rushing off
to war. I guess that is what makes we druids so odd, we actually do stop
and look at everything. I can only imagine the first joy of discovery must
have been like for him...


To gaze upon a work of art
eyes tracing lines and rings
Is to gaze into the artists heart
their passion plainly sings

The work and sweat and time it takes
to craft something so refined
The devotion put forth is what makes
the finished work so divine

To see the end result before
the job is yet begun
Breeds admiration all the more
respect so justly won


I look at Lucan once more and smile. "Never think your work is not
appreciated. You are a true artist m'lord." Slowly standing I note that
Eldrich is still deep in discussion with the newly arrived druid. I head
over to the fire where a kettle was suspended above the flames heating
water. Time to see if anyone wants tea...

Message: Thalada and Eldrich speak together
Author: Ollamh Fili - Eldrich Niall, Patron
Date: Dec 10, 1999
and savor the excellent food prepared by Eldrich's servant. As they sit by
the table, the wondrous new cauldron naturally becomes the center of the
conversation. Thalada carefully takes it in his hands and turns it slowly,
as Eldrich did when he first saw it, admiring the storytelling worked into
the silver.

"A gift from Lucan, the armsmaster," Eldrich says, nodding to the burly
man who sits so humbly across the room from them.

Thalada's gaze drifts sideways to Lucan, then snaps back to the cauldron,
as if he cannot look away from it for long.

"Fascinating, is it not?" the older druid smiles dreamily. He watches
Thalada's face reflected in the cauldron's shimmering surface, enjoying
the small sparkle of delight in his friend's eyes.

Slowly Thalada rotates the cauldron, examining it three times all around.
Then he places it back on the table, still staring at it.

"From whence do these things come?" Eldrich ponders, his voice softened
with awe.

When Thalada turns away from the cauldron to glance at him with a raised
eyebrow, the poet shrugs and raises a hand as if to ward off any answer to
his question. "We know that the gods do not endow every person with a gift
of creating beauty," he continues thoughtfully, "but it is clear that our
Lucan has been given a special gift indeed. Surely his father and perhaps
his father's father were adept at this art as well. But this is not always
true for every artist."

Eldrich strokes his beard, sharpening it into two points, and waits for
Thalada to speak his mind.

Message: Thalada's expression softened.....
Author: Ollamh Cainte - Thalada Parisii
Date: Dec 16, 1999
somewhat from the piercing gaze that he had poured upon the cauldron. The
figures hammered into it had caught his attention and, in truth, had also
held his soul. He knew immediately that the cauldron came from a magic he
had not imagined in Mikele's armsmaster. It held magic still and would
forever. He gazed back at the reflecting image of Eldrich, stroking a
grey beard in as contemplative a gesture as he could have made.

"Aye, it is a good question From whence does this come?" Thalada
pondered for a moment. "I am not a man of art myself but rather have
found art to be a powerful enabler of magic in all things. Almost as if
the freezing of this form in this shape allows the mind the freedom to
plunge deeper than it might have otherwise gone in contemplation of many
things. It seems art, at once, extrapolates and interpolates between
those things we know to be solid and true in this life. I believe it has
purpose but I think it is tangential to our path through this life."

Thalada gazed back at the bowl, he saw he knew, different images than the
others. Living images, serpentine in their fluidity, gazing just as
thoughtfully back at him. Such was the nature of his gift. "I can only
surmise art comes from imbas, just as does poetry. And that comes from
some deep well.....how would you characterize it Eldrich?"

Message: "From some deep well..."
Author: Ollamh Fili - Eldrich Niall, Patron
Date: Dec 20, 1999
Thalada suggested and Eldrich smiles, silently linking thoughts with his
fellow druid. He gives a gentle chuckle, then shares his opinion.

"You think in terms of water, my friend," the old man claps a hand on
Thalada's shoulder. "I can understand what you are saying about a deep
well, which is both mysterious and possibly bottomless, flowing from some
invisible source. Anyone can drink from these waters, but only some are
inspired by them. And the taste is different for each person."

Eldrich pauses, gazing out of one of the amazing windows into the trees
just beyond, his eye caught for a moment by the pattern of the branches
against the stark winter sky. A gust of wind rattles the empty limbs
against the roof, and a cloud changes the color of the shadows.

"Inspiration, to me, is more like air," he adds, fluttering his fingers as
if to invoke a butterfly. "The poet breathes out words as he or she
breathes in life. To we poets, words are our life's breath." He glances at
Thalada sideways and gives a spritely wink. "And of course there is the
breathing-in of intoxicating fumes - a little barley, bull's blood,
acorns, and sacred herbs mashed together, you know the ones - which carry
us on the wings of inspiration to where the higher poetry is spoken. Or
simply listening to the wind may often inspire us."

Thalada quietly contemplates this, and Fleury wanders over from where she
had been sitting with Lucan to join the discussion.

"But I have spoken only of the poet's art," Eldrich frowns, reaching for
the silver cauldron once again and peering into the empty smoothness of
its inner surface. "We hammer our words into forms and shapes that speak,
just as Lucan has hammered this silver into something that tells a story
using pictures. The harper's art is even more elusive, for when the sound
of a note ceases, the music dies until it is born again from the strings.
From whence come the tunes, and what makes one tune survive for
generations while another is soon forgotten?"

He looks from Fleury to Thalada, not expecting his question to be
answered, but waiting patiently for their responses.

Message: Listening quietly to the conversation
Author: - Fleury CuChulainn, Patron
Date: Dec 22, 1999
I glance from Thalada to Eldrich. My eyebrow arches in surprise when I
realise that my thoughts are actually expected. Deciding that there's no
better way to learn than by diving right in, I take a deep breath and hope
I don't reveal my inexperience in such discussions.

"I, too, tend to liken inspiration to air, for we breathe life into
whatever we create whether it be a tool, a work of art or a simple tune.
We all have gifts, they merely manifest themselves in various forms. Music
is one I've always admired, for sweet melodies can quite literally
transport you into a different time or place. Those who compose the
tunes... I often wonder if they are divinely inspired. Perhaps the gods
and goddesses provide the essence of the inspiration and the sheer talent
of the musician transforms that essence into something more tangible. Like
those of us who weave words, they weave notes to reflect the world around
them. Divinely inspired or not, the notes and words come from the heart.
The very essence of the musician can be heard in the notes they play. It
is nothing that can be seen or held, but merely something to be
experienced and appreciated.

Unfortunately, as things change so do priorities and interests. Things
seen as important now may not be in time, and might not have been in the
past. Generations ago, before the Romans came, we druids did not think
twice about our rituals and practices but now we must be wary. Our
priorities have changed from those of our ancestors. These changes are
often reflected in tales and music. Certain songs become forgotten as
their importance lessens. Some are eternal and will defy the passing of
time, but others are destined to fade away..."

My voice trails off as I realise I've been babbling, and I gaze
thoughtfully into the fire as I wait for someone else to speak.


Message: As Fleury stares into the fire
Author: Ollamh Fili - Eldrich Niall, Patron
Date: Dec 28, 1999
Eldrich follows her gaze and another thought immediately occurs to
him...they have talked about water and air being elements of inspiration
but the most obvious is certainly FIRE!

"What about fire?" he ponders aloud, putting a warm hand on Fleury's
slender arm. "Not as subtle as water and not as ethereal as air - we feel
fire in our bodies, in the pit of our bellies, in the very core of our
beings!"

The old druid looks to Thalada for some understanding. "Fire inspires us
to move quickly," he continues, "and trust our instincts without thinking,
letting our words ignite and crackle the kindling as we are ourselves
consumed by its passion. The heat and light that dances around the truly
inspired poet or bard can always be seen by those with eyes to see it.
From whence does this fire come? And where does it go when it is finished?
It is perhaps one of the deepest mysteries of all."

Message: Dozing, I hear the Druids and armsmaster
Author: Kir, messenger girl of - Mary Iceni
Date: Dec 28, 1999
speaking inside the house and I hesitate to wake up again but I know I
must do so soon and speak with Eldrich to hear his answer to my mistress'
request.

Message: As I move quietly past Kir,
Author: Ollamh Cainte - Daven Iceni, Patron
Date: Dec 29, 1999
I hear my compatriots inside talking. They speak of the Elements, and
that is something I know of.

I enter, with the question of where Inspiration comes from, and into the
pregnant silence, I say...

Has anyone else ever felt the Goddess?
Not just the Maiden, Mother and Crone,
But also the Warrior?
The woman who defends her cubs to the death?

Has anyone else felt the God?
His faces: Wanderer, Hunter, Guide and Guardian?
He who is all with the Lady
The man that balances the Goddess?

Has anyone else heard the stars sing?
Their songs of bright things in the sky?
Their tales of ancient times?
Their eternal mourning for those who died?

Has anyone else ever listened to the Earth?
To Her pain for what has been done?
To the life that beats inside her
And heard the promise of a new life?

Have you ever listened to a baby's heartbeat?
Thought about what they might become?
Wondered what kind of world they will inherit
And if they will grow in love and beauty?

If you have never done these things
I advise you to go and do them.
Life is too short to be wasted
But should be savored, bitter and sweet.

"Forgive me for my late arrival, but the Sylphs only now brought me word
of this gathering. I hope I am not intruding."

I greet my peers and my apprentance, and wait for some kind of response to
my entrance.

Message: Still gazing into the fire,
Author: - Fleury CuChulainn, Patron
Date: Dec 29, 1999
I place my hand over Eldrich's and ponder his words. Before I can respond,
I am startled to hear my teachers voice. Turning and smiling, I see Daven
slightly illuminated just as Eldrich had described.

I contemplate giving my teacher a hug in greeting but I do not want to
disturb the aura about the druid so I remain as I was but I smile again
and respond without thinking. "I am glad you came. I have seen, heard and
wondered on a few of things you mention but I hope my teachings will allow
me to experience the rest. I would imagine these things cannot be forced
and each person will experience them in their own time..

Message: "My house has been truly blessed....
Author: Ollamh Fili - Eldrich Niall, Patron
Date: Dec 30, 1999
with your gift of words," Eldrich greets Daven warmly. "A thousand
welcomes, my friend!"

Daven also brings with him the sparkle of the noontide sun. Eldrich
realizes, with wonder, that the morning is almost gone. Gradually and
gently, the room has brightened and warmed, filling up with more and more
golden light.

While the sun climbed into the sky and the conversation flowed, Fahden the
servant cleared the table, leaving only the silver cauldron and a small
platter of cakes. And the armsmaster, Lucan, slipped away unnoticed,
returning to his work.

"Did you happen to see any other druids on the road to Kildare?" Eldrich
anxiously inquires of Daven. The old druid pours his new guest a cup of
mead, then passes the flask to Fleury and Thalada. "I am expecting an
apprentice to arrive today or perhaps tomorrow."

Daven shakes his head, politely lifts his cup to Eldrich and the others,
bouncing a beam of sunlight off the shimmer of silver.

"The sun is almost at its highest," Eldrich says softly, as if to himself.
"The sacred fires of life are to be honored and thanked, at the peak of
their strength on this day."

He begins humming the sun song, and, as one, the druids seek the outdoors
to chant their devotions together under a cloudless winter sky.

Message: Once our devotions are done
Author: At peace - Daven Iceni, Patron
Date: Dec 31, 1999
and with the sun still on my face, warming it, I turn to Eldrich and speak
the thoughts that have been on my mind since the Air Spirits started
bringing me the words from this place.

"From my point of view, inspiration is not from any one place. If it
comes from an element or from the Gods, then it is from the Spirit. That
is where inspiration is from.

"My soul is moved to speak a thing, if my words move your soul, move your
spirit, touch your heart, and cause a change, then it was an inspired
speaking. Wether the Gods whispered the words to me to say, or if the
Elements spoke their message to my heart, matters not. The truly
important thing is how it moves the listener."

I move over to the bench I see near-by, and sit. I do not mind standing,
but when I can sit, I do so. "Have you noticed, as you make and use your
ritual implements that they develop a soul? That so much of you goes into
the making of this that it, an inanimate object, suddenly becomes aware?
It has feelings, emotions, wants and desires? I have seen this happen.
Oh, to be sure they are not as strong, or as forceful as the soul of a
person, or even an animal, but almost a proto-soul. As if, with a little
time and patience, it could become aware and alive.

"You, my friend," looking right at Eldrich "have such an object right
here. That beautiful silver Cauldron. With some time and patience, I
think it could become alive, but it would take centuries."

I laugh as I relaize just how much I have been babbling. "By the Gods, I
must be getting old to go on so long. Fleury, do I do this to you?"

I am still chuckling into my beard while I wait for someone to speak.

Message: On the path
Author: Apprentice - Rona Cumhaill
Date: Jan 1, 2000
through the trees, I come suddenly upon a group of druids gathered in
front of a newly built house. This must be the Ollamh's home, I realize
with a rush of nervousness. I stop and smooth back my unruly red hair and
straighten the amethyst brooch that holds my woolen brat in place. Looking
at the group, it is hard to tell which one is my teacher, as I have no
idea what he looks like. Taking a deep breath, I step off the path and
walk slowly towards the druids.

They are engaged in what sounds like a friendly but formal discussion and
I hesitate to interrupt. But the oldest druid seems to sense my presence
and turns to look curiously at me.

"Dia dhuit, teacher!" I smile and make a respectful bow. "I am Rona of
Cumhaill, arrived to begin my apprenticeship with the Ollamh of Leinster?"
The shyness shows in my voice, and my polite introduction ends up sounding
more like a childish question than a confident statement. Not a fortunate
beginning for a young woman who desires to become a Bard!