By Morgan
email: morgan46@comcast.net
Written September 13th, 2004
Posted November 3, 2004
Morgan stood alone on the Shore of Latis Lake. Her gaze lifted upward toward the moon. If one could get close enough
they would see in Morgan’s eyes the reflection of the Tawny Owl, Berrach soaring, silhouetted by the moon, descending
at last to the gloved hand of the Fianna. The Celts believe that the owl carries the souls of the deceased back to the
Land of Youth, known in this time as Avalon. But Morgan remembered when the old language called that mystical island,
Tir Nan Og. She visited there as one of the few Fianna left in the known world. She went to see her brother,
Caracticus who died in battle against the Romans within Brittania. She went several times to see if her sister, Killian was
brought there and yet another she loved with no explanation. Neither was there.
Berrach perched motionless on Morgan’s wrist then quickly twisted her head toward the forest behind them. Morgan
brought her lips close to the Tawny’s downy ear and whispered a language forgotten in the world. “I know my love. You
do not hunt alone this night. There is another who stalks against her own will. I am the prey. But not against my will.”
Berrach understood but continued to stare into the blackness of the forest. She could see the invisible and hear the
impossible.
The Fianna’s deep brown eyes glittered from the moonlight reflecting from the lake and from the presence of the one she
felt behind her. She sucked in a breath and spoke softly. “Will you be my Druid? Perhaps you would rather skulk and
brood like an angry child and dog my trail driven by your insatiable inner hunger? I cannot believe that of you no matter how
long you choose silence between us.”
A blaze of rage and pain lit up inside her heart as Nessa emerged from the trees to stand at enough of a distance from the
Fianna to prevent a strike, should she lose control. “How long I choose silence between us?” she choked incredulous. “It
is my ‘insatiable inner hunger’ that kept me searching for you dead or alive; through battle after battle until my own warrior
heart could tolerate the gore no more. All the while you lived and it was you who chose the silence. You just disappeared
without warning or reason!” The hurt warrior felt no shame at the tears that rolled from her eyes. At last she could speak
to Morgan. Up to now, from that most amazing moment in the circle of Oaks in the Land of the Faery where Nessa again
laid eyes upon the home of her heart, and to find that her beloved Killian was the sister of that one and only, Morgan, she
was muted, stunned and aching.
The Fianna waited before speaking. She was aware of the quaking fury in the half wild warrior. Berrach ruffled slightly in
an effort to merge with Morgan’s mind. “This one is devoted and will never hurt you” said the Tawny telepathically. “This
emotion is but a shimmer of illusion, thinly veiling the deeper shadow. Speak softly and tell the truth, Fianna.”
Morgan gazed into the red-rimmed gray eyes. She detected all the invisible wounds and knew they would heal with truth
and love. She was not touched by anger. She was embraced by love for Nessa.
“Yes, I left without word. We were known as a team in battle and I was a target.” Morgan nearly whispered. “My desire
was to turn the face of the spies for Rome away from you, so I left as if death buried me beneath the bodies on the
battlefield.” Morgan paused to see a glimmer of understanding in Nessa. “I was given knowledge by the Druid, Albion
that Boudicca would fall under the Roman force. He knew my living spirit of the warrior in all women. He knew also that
Boudicca must not die by Roman sword or spear. Her people, the Iceni needed to believe she lived to rise up again one
day. I gave her and her daughters a sleeping potion so powerful, they were all the way into the safety borders of the fierce
Viking Celts when the Iceni finally fell to temporary ruin. Boudicca was a hard Queen to convince that her death would do
her people no good. I stayed with her, praying with all hope that you would live your way through and leave the land of the
Iceni before it fell.”
“Did you wonder about me? Did you search?” Nessa questioned. The storm in her seemed to pass. “Did you know how I
loved you?”
“Yes. I knew too, that you would have to become more Druid than warrior before I could be with you again. Battle lust
would have to be over-shadowed by reason and love for life. My sister, Killian saw to that rather well I think. I must thank
you for all you have done for her.” Morgan finished this appreciative gesture just before she saw the move toward her that
would tell the truth between them. One strong arm wrapped around her waist before Berrach took flight to the nearest
tree branch to watch over the heated, ancient ritual between humans in love. She saw beneath the surface of things and
knew with the same sharpness as her own talons that this was meant to be.
tbc
Morgan
Conclusion
Morgan woke from a night of lovemaking that went from rough to gentle and back to rough again. She was sitting astride
Nessa’s warhorse, Tuttle. She felt that same strong arm around her waist that she felt most of the night in one way or
another. This time it held her safely to the hot body behind her. Morgan could feel the soft silk shirt covering Nessa’s
breasts, rubbing gently on the sting of her back. But more than that, her bottom and sore center shot pain through her with
each move of the sure-footed warhorse. She lay her beautiful dark haired head back on Nessa’s shoulder and said softly,
“I have to move somehow, Ness. I mean, I am sore and need to change positions.”
Nessa simply tightened her hold on Morgan, bent her mouth to the Fianna’s ear and said with a slight chuckle, “Oh no ye
don’t, lass. I intend for ye to be reminded of who I am to ye every step of the way back to your hut. Ye lead the Tribe and I
will never interfere with that. But ye belong to me in a bond that neither of us will nor could break if we wanted and I know
that is something neither of us can foresee.” Nessa looked up. She could see Berrach soaring above them. It was
getting light and the Tawny Owl would lose sight in the daylight. She said, “Now, call Berrach down to ye. The sun
begins to birth a new day.”
Wetness spurted from Morgan’s nether region as Nessa’s refusal to allow her to move heated her with the sense of
belonging to this strong Druid/warrior. She spent whole lifetimes making all her own decisions and dreamed of the day
when there would be one such as Nessa to have for strength when she felt the need to be weak; to direct her when she
needed direction; to claim her with the fierce Celtic way of the warrior. Morgan the Fianna obeyed her Druid. She called
down the Tawny with a short, light screech and smiled openly when the loyal friend swooped and landed on the arm
gauntlet Nessa wore, thus acknowledging the Druid’s station with her mistress. The small owl closed her eyes against the
light and slept.
The location of the Fianna’s Hut was just next to Grandmothers Hut where many tribal sisters spent time eating, drinking
Amazon teas and storytelling. The main kitchen was there so it was impossible to avoid being seen by the early risers
smelling sizzling bacon and steamed eggs walking toward Grandmother’s Hut. It must have been a sight to remember;
Queen Morgan held tightly (and looking ravished) by the one they all thought may never even speak to the Fianna; The
Tawny Owl perched on Nessa’s arm gauntlet; all astride the beautiful chestnut warhorse, Tuttle, her cream colored mane
cascading down her neck. Most were not sure but it did seem rather friendly of the Druid/warrior to aid the Queen in
dismounting in such a close and gentle way after stopping just before the entrance to Morgan’s hut.
Killian was the first to recognize the love and contentment mingled with pure excitement vibrating between the two women.
She gazed at her sister knowingly and received a look of acknowledgement in return. The psychic’s heart jumped within
her. The sight of bright fulfillment emanating from her friend, Nessa was something she longed to see for many months
now. At last, Nessa found the home of her heart. The fact that it was her very own sister pleased her immensely.
Caitlin stood beside her lover grinning as if she was not the deeply serious woman most came to know her as being. The
Druid’s happiness meant mountains of fresh air billowing into their friendship. She continued to grin as Nessa looked
over to her and dropped a wink.
Kaie was getting the whole story from Tuttle. She nearly whistled out loud at the pictures the battle-mare sent to her
brain. The young horse listener pulled her attention reluctantly from Tuttle when Queen Morgan addressed the Tribe.
In a strong yet slightly shaky voice Morgan announced that there would be a celebration beginning at twilight of this day. “I
have chosen my Druid Advisor and we will celebrate in the ways of our ancestors. We will also be celebrating my beautiful
gift from the one who has just returned from the rite if the Dream Quest, Dera Marius. She has brought great strength to
us with the many horses she called. Wear your charms; bring your hollowed sticks; your drums and flutes. Paint your faces
and be prepared to dance. I will present our beloved Tribe with the Druid so needed among us.” Morgan turned to the
entrance of her hut then turned back around again as a grand cheering came from the Tribe she loved so much. She took
the hand of her wild Celtic lover who led her through the entrance of the cool, darkened hut. Sleep would be next and
better than ever for both women. Love’s call was answered and all was well for the Tribe.
The end
Morgan
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