Chapter 3: Ayrien's Dance
"Let me see, let me see!"
The dancers were pushing each other, trying to get a short peep on the audience from
behind the curtain. Ayrien was the only one out of the bunch of exited girls, giggling and
jumping around
After taking proud for not being nervous about the dance the whole time, the fear
had finally invaded her heart, almost paralyzing her. Two sentences were running over and
over again in her thoughts, mixing, frightening her and banishing any trace of peace.
"If she wasn't the daughter of the village's head, she would never have been chosen
to lead the dance!" "I know my little fairy will not disappoint her old father,
ah?" "Would never have been chosen
" "won't disappoint her old
father" "never
never
never" "disappoint her old father,
ah?" Aryrien's head, echoing with these words, became a complete mess. What if that
was right, and she IS going to disappoint her father?!
Saoirse was already out there,
presenting them to the very special guests of the night, and Ayrien was as far as one can
be from concentrating.
The slow drumbeats signing the start of their dance started, forcing a silence on
the expecting audience. Ayrien was pushed forward by the other dancers. She started
walking automatically, like in a dream, toward her place in the front of the stage, moved
only by the demanding memory of the thousand times she had done just the same. She stood
on the cold stone floor in position: her hands next to her body, her right foot ahead of
her left one, her head turned down and to the right
Gazing in that direction, her
eyes was set on Morena's legs. She could notice a red mark on her left leg, but did not
paid any attention in the first moment. Suddenly - a moment later - her heart leaped with
joy inside her. A red mark? That means
that means
that means that THAT was the
"thing" her foot hit that morning! It was Morena who caused her shameful fall,
deliberately - it wasn't Ayrien's mistake at all! Instead of the expected anger after such
a discovery, the feelings that flooded her had no trace of blackness. Pure joy, happiness
and the self-assure she needed so much replaced in a swift the apprehension and fear that
confused her so much, clearing her head like the first rain of the year. Her face
brightened up, and when the music began, Ayrien danced like she had never danced before.
Her jumps were higher, her movements sharper yet much more delicate, her taps cleaner and
quicker then ever. She knew very well she has to dance with sealed face, but she could not
care - a large smile places itself on her lips, and no force in the world could remove
it
just as nothing could turn off the sparkles of joy lightening her eyes.
Another set of eyes was sparkling,
yet not with joy: Tune's eyes were opened wide in amazement. He was never treated like
that before! He was never looked at in such admiration, he was never talked to with such
respect. Being a mere shepherd before he joined with the legendary Fianna, he was used to
be treated not much better then the sheep he guarded, and sometimes even worst. It was the
first time people was looking at him as equal - and better! And if that was not enough to
amaze him, this girl was
Oh, he could spend hours and hours just watching her!
Dancing like that, effortless, almost flying, she looked to him more like a fairy. Her
burning-red curls waved to and fro, hiding and revealing her mysterious smile
the
smile was the last arrow to finally pierce Tune's heart, leaving him speechless, eyes wide
open.
"Common, go to her!" a whisper from behind his shoulder scared the amazed
Tune to his feet once the dance was over. Duive was there, laughing. "You don't have
to jump like that, lad! I won't bite ya! Now, common - you were gazing at her long enough.
Get up and do somethin' !"
"But what, Duive, what? How can I approach such a distinguished girl? She
won't even look at me!"
"Oh, leave that bullshit in the field! You're not a shepherd-boy anymore;
youre Fianna! Now get to that lassie and take her for a dance - and hurry, or I will
do it!" With this words Duive pushed the hesitating Tune forward - and the lad found
himself in front of Ayrien, struggling to find his tongue.
Ayrien was enjoying the attention
like a thirsty flower flooded with water. It was no new feeling for Ayrien - it was not
her first nor her hundredth dance - but unlike other times, the people greeting her meant
a whole lot more to her then the fact she is being greeted. They were the Fianna! The
Fianna were greeting her! HER! She moved between the crowded people like a butterfly,
returning warm smiles, nodding, changing witted remarks with the merry warriors. The other
girls were gathered aside, gossiping and giggling, waiting for an invitation to dance -
but she was a loved queen among her subjects, walking proudly yet not unapproachable.
Suddenly, a tall something blocked the light from the great fire in the middle of
celebration - the excited Tune stood there, gathering all his courage to speak with her.
"May I dance with you, O beautiful lady?" he finally asked, hoping she didn't
heard the tremble in his voice. He was tall and handsome, and he was Fianna - "I
don't see why not, O brave warrior".
***
"You're cold, father!" the
evening was wearing, getting closer and closer to it's end, and so was the once great
fire. Though Ayrien was having the best time she had in years, dancing with almost each
and every warrior, she had not even once forgot her dear father. "Why won't you go
home, it's getting late
"
"Your father is old, dear daughter, but not as much as you make it sound! The
head's place is with the body, and the village head's place is with the people"
Ayrien gave up - she knew the argument was lost before it even began. He will not
move from there. "I shall get you a blanket, father" she said - and disappeared
into the thin air. "You don't have to go all the way to--" he called after her,
but she was not there anymore.
After a short while he removed his
eyes from where she was, looking for someone he knew he would find gazing in the same
direction. It didn't take him long to find Tune, and he signaled him to approach. The
young warrior did as he was asked to with a heavy heart - he was afraid the lass' father
would do as all the fathers he knew in his short life had done, and commands him to leave
his daughter
The first thing he heard did not comforted him:
"I want to warn you, lad"
"I hear you, O Lord of Taru". The trembling voice of Tune made Taru look
at him, and find the deep paleness on his face. He burst in a short, warm laugh.
"Don't be afraid, lad. I won't try to keep ya away from Ayrien." Tune's
relief could almost be seen. "I wanted to warn you from the lass herself"
Curious, Tune sat beside Taru. "What can I be warned from, talking about such a
beautiful rose?"
"Roses are beautiful flowers, but when trying to collect one you must be
careful from its prickles. Ayrien is no regular lass"
"That cannot be unnoticed!"
"True, but her prickles can. Before you try to conquer her heart, you must
know that this heart is braver then women's heart should regularly be. Her blood is hotter
then her hair. Her spirit
her spirit is more free then a wild bird in the open sky.
She grew up with no mother - but I doubt if a mother could cage such a bird. She will
never be the patient woman, waiting for her husband quietly at home. She will not be the
delicate flower kept inside its bowl. This girl rides better then any man I know, and let
me tell you a secret - she fights better then most of them, too."
"Fights? But
"
"But teaching a girl to fight is not accepted? True. When I found her spying
the boy's training, imitating them and training herself like that, I was furious. But no
meter how many times I explained her its forbidden, no meter how many punishes she had to
take, she was caught there time after time." The lord stopped for a moment, smiling
to himself from the depths of his memories. "In the beginning of every spring, during
the 1st of May celebrations, our youngest warriors have a competition of their
own to test and demonstrate their skills. When she was 10, she managed to get into this
competition, dressed as a boy. She won it. Since then I understood nothing can be done,
and she's the only girl around that is allowed to be trained"
Both men were now deep in thoughts, gazing into the air. Taru was captured in
memories, seeing again his proud daughter on the winner's place, taking off the little
helmet and mask and revealing her identity, leaving her audience mouth opened. And
Tune
he was fascinated. If you think his feeling was decreased by that story, you
cannot be further from the truth. As him, she broke tradition. As him, she followed her
dream. As him, she became a warrior, although all the odds were against her. And she was
so lovely still
He must have her. He must! A dreamy look in his eyes, Tune got up.
"I see this will not prevent you from trying your chances with my daughter.
Very well. But always keep this in your mind: She had no easy life. She was grown not by a
mother but by her step aunt, a very hard woman, and a bunch of men who couldn't give her
the love a mother can. Try to cage her - and she will run away, never to return. Hurt her
in any way - and you will be hurt harder then you can possibly imagine. Find the key to
her heart - and you will reveal warm that was locked for too many years."
"Thank you, O Lord. I will treasure this always". Taru looked carefully
on the young excited face, and then nodded his head.
"You will, I can see you will. And let me offer you another piece of knowledge
that may help you
Talk with her about her horse, and you'll have her undivided
attention" The old men winked, and Tune felt he can't spend another moment before
trying that suggestion. His heart was beating wild in his chest, threatening to tear it
and fly alone toward Ayrien. He bowed, unable to verbalize his deep thankfulness.
"Run, laddy, run and find her as long as she's alone. Good luck to thee"
But the lord was talking to a back, disappearing in the same direction his
daughter's back disappeared not a long time ago.
***
Nobody noticed, but another figure
made its way toward the same direction. A bent shadow followed Tune from the bushes aside
the road. If the young well-trained warrior were in his full senses, he would have
probably felt this shadow, sensing with the warrior's sharp senses there is something
wrong. But his mind was a slave to his feelings, his senses locked on one destination
only, and the smile on his face was not dimmed by the suspicion something is not as it
supposed to be