Jun 23rd 2020 - 2:54 PM

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A gentle summer breeze ruffled the maple leaves, and warmed the damp earth which remained after the rain. It was a hot day by Irish standards, perfect for a walk in forest to field across the lands kept by the Dunlace kingdom. Isolde, wearing a sleeveless frock and bonnet, carried a satchel of books and pens to share. This had become a ritual for mother and daughter ever since Aine was small, so today her young daughter would think it not strange when they reached their favorite knoll by a tree to spread their blanket to be.

“I know that we usually tell stories or write them, Aine….but today I have brought with me something to share.”

She looked into the curious face of her daughter. Feelings of pride and love cursed through her, as she saw both herself and Tristan. Isolde knew they had been truly blessed. Her daughter loved hearing the stories of her ancestors and culture. She would keep them in her heart as she grew and pass them along to her children’s children. How this pleased her mother as the world around them was ever changing. She feared that especially the old ways would be lost. Reaching into her bag she pulled out an old hard- cover book, golden and tattered. On its cover were the letters to spell… Tuatha de Dannan

“This is an ancient treasure, Aine….it is not written in our language, but the pictures will help me to read it to you.

“We have talked of them before, mum. They are the gods and goddesses the faeries in the mounds!” “Yes, Aine. You were named for one of them,”
Isolde smiled. “Goddess of Love” Aine beamed, but then returned her attention to the book.

“Is Brigid in there?” she asked. Isolde laughed and opened the book to her favorite page as well.
“You love her as I do, Aine…the Goddess of Fire, the Hearth and Healing. She is our mentor always, but there are more.”

They turned through the pages admiring their,Mother Danu, the Sun God, Lugh, and Goddess of War, Morrigan. There were at least 20 of them and Isolde named each one with pride. This book will be yours, Aine. Your father and I know how you have taken an interest in Ireland. Someday, you will pass this on to others and they will do the same so that it will not be forgotten.

“Oh! They will never be forgotten, Mother.” Her eyes then fell upon the smaller book which was in the satchel. She thought she had seen it before.

“This book is my journal, Aine. I will keep it till I pass into the next life. But I wanted you to see it. close up".

Isolde opened it up. She had started writing in it as a young girl shortly after her father, the Viking chieftan had died in battle. She had just returned from Avalon, where she had learned reading and writing and religion. It was where she had met Guinevere and grew close to Vivianne and Merlin. In her journal she had told of her wanderings to other lands and realms. In it she told about loving Tristan. Aine reached for the diary just as Isolde handed her another.

It was the same size, hard covered, with gold trim. The front was rose, decorated with celtic knots. She took it into her hands and flipped through the thin unlined pages.

“It is beautiful, mum…I will treasure it.”
“I know you will, tearma deiridh.(my darling)."
 Isolde thought about how both their children had attended school at Cill Dara. Her Christian friend, Brigid had founded the monastery which featured all the arts; music, poetry, literature and especially the skilled crafts. Talented monks and druids had transcribed and using quill pens and ink made from holly berries and oak apples. Both children were mesmerized by the sacred calligraphy in the scriptorium there. Isolde would findthem a book just for illustrating as well.