Sheep and Velvet
The morning brought a day that filtered the light through the clouds like bright fingers pointing, splayed from heavenly palms to direct the eye toward the mountains and their slopes of green. The rain from the day before had left its scent in the air. This combined with the view was enough to make a person feel as if they had walked into a painting. It was rather surreal, especially given all that the trio who faced the day outside the small bed and breakfast had on their minds.
They had eaten their breakfasts with some relish, knowing that they would not be stopping for a hot lunch that day. Their plan was to drive into Glendalough and to work their way along St. Kevin's Way. According to the lady of the house, Teague O'Bryne's land adjoined the public lands and often he could be found rounding his sheep and moving them back onto his own property. They had wanted to simply drive to visit him directly, but she had insisted that Teague was not known for staying indoors. If they were to find him, especially this time o'year, it would be out and about and the view from the Way was more open than that from Teague's home. It sounded very much like a wild goose chase to all of the travelers, but they had come to speak to Teague as he was mentioned directly in Ian's journal as a "person of interest", so hiking the path was the plan. At least Fiona was pleased as they would be staying in Dun Laoghire that evening, which boasted connections to Samuel Beckett among other famous writers and she could add a bit to her travelogue. They procured sack lunches from the lady of the house and Roary paid for the wine of the prior evening, then they climbed into the car. As they drove away Lin found herself searching the treeline for birch stands. She did not see any, but perhaps they were just a bit farther back in the wood or she had simply missed them as they sped from the drive.
As the day progressed the clouds began to part and a brilliant blue sky replaced the heavenly spears of light. She was beginning to look forward to the hike they had planned, perhaps they might even find the mysterious Teague. Roary found his way to the parking area with ease and they put their packs together. Fiona clucked a bit, making sure everyone had water and the other necessities, like fully charged cell phones, suitably packed. As soon as everyone was prepared, they set off up the "Way."
It was truly a very beautiful passage. The heather was in bloom and the contrast against the green of the rolling hillocks made the scenery easy on the eye. They walked in silence, each to their own thoughts, except for Fiona, who had slipped Ian's I-pod into her pocket and was apparently enjoying one of his mellower play-lists.
Roary cast a glance at Lin, curious to see if she had regained any balance after the turmoil of the day before. She seemed to be enjoying the hike, perhaps a bit distracted, but not distraught. He wondered what really went on behind those dark eyes of hers. He supposed he would never know. That was the way of things. People could guess at what another was thinking or feeling, but they would never really know. Even when the words were shared there was still too much translation that occurred. He shook his head free of his ruminations and continued on, breathing in the fresh scent of the day and trying to lose himself in the beauty of St. Kevin's Way.
As the climb grew steeper the trio's pace slowed a bit. They stopped for some water and a bit of a rest. Fiona turned the music off long enough to note that they had been following the path for almost a full hour. Surprised that they had been hiking that long, Roary looked more fully at the surrounding area. There should be some sign soon of bordering pasture land. They began the pace again, this time with a bit more attention to the potential signs of wayward sheep. It was not too long before they spotted a small white cloud clumped low to the ground off in the distant heather. A single sheep, or so it appeared, had strayed from the fold. Checking to make sure there was no one to intercept them, made their way off the designated path and out into the field beyond. The going here was definitely rougher and the terrain grew ever steeper as they made their way toward the tiny cloud-like form.
It was rough going, with the heather tangling around their legs and other scrub catching at their heels. Lin was the first to take a tumble coming up much the worse for wear, but proving that indeed many a sheep had wandered in the area. "Och, but ye seem to have found the muck," laughed Roary. Fiona couldn't help herself and soon she was laughing as Lin tried to use the small handwipes from her pack to clean herself up a bit. Keeping a straight face, Lin took the lead and scrambled on. "Sheep-shit, wonderful," she grumbled, "Teague had best have something to say for himself." As they came up over a particularly high and rather blind hillock, Roary came face to butt-end with a stray ewe. He was so startled that he lost his footing. In an effort to catch himself he pitched forward and practically landed on the poor animal, landing himself in a far fresher pile than Lin had found. He stood, caught between laughing and grimacing, catching the twinkle in Fiona's eyes he found himself leaning toward the former and that is when all three broke out in a whale of laughter that had to have scared that poor ewe more than its near crushing did.
Lin's wipes were no help at all with the mush on his jacket and shirt, but he gave it an effort which only succeeded in getting his hands and pants legs tainted as well. He settled for an extra wipe to cleanse his hands. If two of them smelled awful, then perhaps Fiona could do the talking for them. He suggested this and it seemed to be the plan. They walked a bit more carefully after that, given that they only had one clean speaker left among them. It was about another 30 minutes before they came within site of what appeared to be a dwelling of some sort, more of a shanty or lean-to, but it had the remains of a morning fire in the ring outside. Roary felt his blood pump just a bit faster. Perhaps all the muck was going to be worth it. Hell it was already mostly worth it, just to hear Lin and Fiona laughing like that.
They approached cautiously, not trying to be perfectly quiet as that might seem sinister, but also not beating the band. They got right up next to the fire-ring and found no other evidence of human habitation at all. Feeling a bit deflated they stood for a moment contemplating the long hike back through the sheep-shit filled hillocks.
"Do ye' be needin' somethin', or are ye' just collecting muck?" came a dry old voice from behind them.
They responded in unison as if a gun had gone off at their backs, so surprised were they by the sudden intrusion into their silence. Turning they saw a wizened old man with wild wisps of red hair and a wiry red beard holding a shot gun beaded directly toward Roary's chest. It was not exactly the welcome they had hoped for.
"We were hoping to find a Teague O'Bryne. Folk have it that he's got the history of the land all stored in his head, and we have a need for a lesson or two," eased Roary with a bare brush of voice.
"Ye surely did not get yerself covered in dung just to be talking with the likes o' him."
"We have a vera' good reason to seek him out, if he would be interested in hearin' our tale,"
The man seemed to take an eternity to respond, keeping the gun leveled and his finger on the trigger. They stood there afraid to move, to breathe lest the crazy old coot take a shot at close range. Yet his eyes did appear to soften and as they did, the barrel began to drop and he slid the safety into place.
"I guess, I could listen to ye a bit at that. I would offer ye some water to clean with, but all I have is for the table so ye'll have to reekin' til ye' get back to town. Not that I mind, I live with em'." He made his way into the shanty and came out with some fold out stools. "Best have a seat, I've a feelin' this won't be short."
Fiona sat closest to Teague, though truth be told he didn't smell any better than Lin or Roary. Yet the plan had been for her to take the lead, so that was what she would do. She started by introducing the group and then wove the tale that had brought them to his shanty. It did not seem to her that the telling had taken over long, yet when she was through Teague stood to stretch as if he had been seated far too long. He strolled into the shanty and came back with a bottle and some glasses that had definitely seen cleaner days.
"That's quite the yarn. I've not a clue why you've come to me though. All I know is the history of the rebellions, the men who have come and gone from these parts, the falling of the port and such."
"My grandson had your name in his journal," Fiona interrupted, "We hoped that you might have some idea about a link with these events. Anything, really, would be helpful."
Teague offered the glasses round and when no one accepted he did not seem the least put out. He un-stopped the bottle and drank straight from it. The long swallow made a full round shape in his throat as it slid down, taking its time to find its way to his vitals, much as he took his time in answering Fiona. Lin and Roary had moved to the edge of their stools, nearly tipping them as they urged a response.
"Unless there is some connection to the wayward efforts of the men who fought those old battles, I've naught to tell ye. I have no place in me life for the fair-folk and their ways. Just keeping track of the old families, their losses and their gains, not that there were many of those mind, is enough to fill me head. I think perhaps yer young Ian was looking for somethin' else when he put me name in his book. I'm sorry fer yer troubles, but I havena' a thing to add to yer tale." He put the stopper back in the bottle and stood, folding up his stool and returning both to the shanty.
The interview was clearly over, and definitely disappointing.
"If ye don't mind a bit more challengin' a path, ye can cut about half the time off yer trek by cutting through past that stand of pine just past the pen o'er there," he motioned as he took up the shot-gun and began to walk in the opposite direction.
They stood and folded they stools. Uncertain what to do with them, they leaned them against the shanty and then followed the direction he had given them. Not a word passed between them as they began the trek back. They were about 10 minutes into the walk when it became clear that the descent was much, much more rugged than the climb they had made up to Teague's shanty. They found themselves in a narrow ravine with a very steep pitch, the walls of which began to get quite close together as they traveled onward. At one point they came upon rocks which cluttered the path, requiring them to scuttle over them like crabs or small children. When the pitch was too steep, Fiona gave up and simply sat down and began to make her way by sliding along with her hands, feet and rump firmly attached to the ground. It was better that than going head over heels like Jack or Jill was all she said. Lin and Roary soon followed her lead. By the time they managed to reach the bottom of Teague's short cut they were covered from head to toe in bits of gorse and heather, and slick with mud and what they sorely suspected was more sheep-dung.
Safely on level ground and within sight of the car-park they found themselves picking bits of their hike off each other and laughing at the sight they had become. Fiona compared them to a bunch of monkeys cleaning each other and then offered Roary a rather bruised banana from her pack. The other visitors of the Way were definitely staring at them as the trio clutched their stomachs and laughed tossing the poor banana back and forth, imitating monkeys all the way to the car. They were having such a good time that no one even thought about what condition they were in before they had climbed in and started off. It was actually the enclosed environment that reminded them.
"Eww, we smell horrible," snorted Lin. Which only served to send them off into another round of laughter. The poor banana did raise a serious concern. They were all starving. Roary drove over to the bed and breakfast and as they went they agreed that they would try to find some carry-out and eat as quickly as possible. They went in without their bags and let the mistress know they were there. Fiona asked if there might be a suitable place for them to get something to eat and got directions to a nearby establishment.
They left quickly, not wanting to leave the aroma in the house for the other guests, it would be bad enough when they came back to clean up later in the shared baths. They walked over to the building the woman had given instructions to. They were a bit surprised at the edifice, it was a large greystone, with front pillars. Entering, they could not see anything that looked like an eatery, but Fiona did see a sign near the elevator that had the name of the place she had been given. Too tired to put much effort into thinking about it and certain the woman had understood their needs, they waited for the elevator. Entering they pressed the button for the floor that had been noted, rather surprised it was on the very top. They were the only people in the elevator and that seemed a blessing, at least no one else would have to deal with their state of attire and scent.
It was not until the doors of the elevator opened that they realized what a colossal mistake they had made. There they stood, three people covered from head to toe in sheep-shit, staring out at a red-velvet restaurant with doubled vaulted ceilings, crown-moldings with gold-leaf trim, elegant and starched waiters. They were completely and utterly horrified. The maitre d' on the other hand was totally nonchalant. It was as if he dealt with people who rolled in foul-smelling things every day. He greeted them as if they were related to the Queen herself and rather than seating them in as far a corner as he could find, he sat them in the very center of the restaurant. They could not believe it. There they were, the three of them, in a room torn out of 'World's Most Sumptuous Restaurants', seated dead center, with weeds in their hair, mud on their noses and chins and reeking like something you would never let your cat drag in. Yet somehow the staff were so gracious and the food so incredibly divine that by the time they had finished the soup and the salad they too had forgotten they were not dressed to the nines.
Lin felt a little like Cinderella in the bold red velvet and ivory room. Somehow she had been transformed as soon as she sat in the magical chair, she and her companions were all prepared for the ball. And what a ball! They had such a wonderful time. The days adventure turned into the most fun she could remember having without the boys in years. The strange old man with the gun trained on Roary became Elmer Fudd with a wee bit of red hair and a wiry red beard. It was with reluctance that they finished their coffees and paid the very handsome bill as no one really wanted to leave the magical space.
Yet somehow the magic stayed with them as they left. Bouyed by the graciousness of Leslie's, a restaurant they would not soon forget, they managed the walk home as if still in silks and stockings. It was only when they parted ways to actually clean up that the magic circle was broken, twinkling down around them like precious shards of crystal. A Waterford masterpiece crushed, never to be put together again, except in the memory of those who once held it. And for some reason, that was good enough.
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