The Misty World of Arial Hollyberry

With thoughts of the mysterious monk I encountered on the path to Willowmeer swirling through my mind I hurried around the curve in the path and was instantly transported back in time, just ahead of me stood the shops and cottages of  Willowmeer, looking exactly like the photo’s in the brochure.

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It was just a few months ago that I had decided to take a vacation to the UK. I wanted to see the grand old castles and visit Stonehenge, making the side trip into Ireland was a decision that I made when I got here. I reasoned, I’m so close why not visit the country of my ancestors. I picked up a few brochures in the lobby of my hotel and instantly fell in love with the photo of a small town that was only a day trip away. I decided that I would  leave in the morning.

The drive through the beautiful rolling green hills of Ireland was serene and I almost missed the small weathered sign stating “Willowmeer-1km” pointing down the path on the right side. I pulled off the road into a small dirt parking area and got out of the car. The sun was still fairly high in the sky and I thought that it would only take and hour or so to visit the town, so I started off down the path. A kilometer turned out to be farther than I had planned on.

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I pulled myself back from my reminiscing and focused on the  winding street in front of me. Holding the lantern out I made my way into the center of the town. Willowmeer was a quaint village  consisting of  stuccoed shops with paned windows and thatched roofs, some place right out of the seventeenth century. The street was cobblestone and was bordered on both sides with tall iron street lamps that were now glowing with a soft yellow light.

A few women were closing up their shops for the evening and started walking together in twos and threes up the sidewalk, making their way to hearth and home. A couple of stout little women in long skirts and aprons smiled and waved to me, then drifted off into the twilight, talking softly between themselves.

I stopped in front of a wooden door with a plaque above it proudly proclaiming it to be… “The Lucky Horseshoe Inn and Tavern, D. O’Brien-proprietor”. A large tree stump sat off to the side with a pile of firewood stacked beside it. There were two axes leaning next to the stump and another with its blade buried in the middle of the large, nicked surface.

It was way to dark to go back now, I would have to see if I could get a room here for the night. I placed the lantern on the stump and pushed hard on the door. To my surprise, it swung in easily, with me stumbling in behind it.

A tall, rugged looking man with a red beard and shaggy hair was standing behind the bar, wiping glasses and setting them on a high wooden shelf behind him. He gave a short laugh when I made my embarrassing entrance and said, “Well lass, come on in then and set a spell, looks like you could use it.” I smiled sheepishly at him then straightened up and nonchalantly smoothed my hair back. He waved his towel at the door. “Don’t be forgettin’ the door now, it’s lettin’ the cold in.”

Cringing a little I said, “Oh, I’m sorry!” I started to close the heavy door and remembered the lantern. Pulling the door open again, I stepped out to retrieve it. I had set the lantern down on the tree stump, I know I did, but now it was nowhere to be found. Where it had been was a circle of fine gray ash. I was staring at the stump when a chilling wind swirled around me and blew the ash out into the darkness. At that same moment, a hand landed heavily on my shoulder. I jumped and turned around as the bar keeper, towel thrown over his shoulder,  stepped out into the night.

He looked up and down the street, now empty of all life, and said in a low voice, “ghost wind’s blowin’ tonight, better come in now.” He took one more look around and lead me inside, closing the big door with a solid bang. Shutting out the spirits that roam the night.

© Tami Ruesch, The Misty World of Arial Hollyberry, 2009.

We stood facing each other: a five foot, six inch tall human with long auburn hair and moss green eyes, holding out her hand, and a two inch faerie with  auburn hair hanging to her knees and bright crystal blue eyes, standing on the proffered hand.

The bright smile on Arial’s face quickly dissolved into a look of serious contemplation. With hands on hips, she paced back and forth from finger tips to wrist and back again, her wings casting a multicolored  array of sparkles in the morning sun. “Bill only sees faeries because he is so near to you. We block his memory later, this is how we protect our involvement with humankind.”

She motioned for me to sit down and continued. “Queen Orlaith knew that this day would come, that you would eventually start asking questions, and she has left the decision to me as to when you should be  enlightened.”  She cocked her head to one side as she looked at me closely, trying to decide if I could comprehend what she was about to tell me.

“Faerie vision runs in the bloodlines, it is past down from one generation to the next. Only those with faerie blood in their veins have the ability to develop the talent. Human men and women  have faerie vision only because it has been past down to them  through their family. We have noticed that the males don’t actually see faeries as much as they sense them or hear them. It is the females that can interact with faeries by seeing them in their physical form. Still, we have been surprised by the occasional male that can see us.”

By this time I was completely confused. Bloodlines? Inherited? I couldn’t decide if I was  being dense, or if , on some level, I didn’t want to hear what Arial was telling me. I chose to just sit there with my mouth shut and listen.

Arial drifted over to my shoulder where she could braid my hair while she continued. ” In the beginning of our history,The Tuatha De Danann settled in the northern most mountains of Ireland. They were a tall and graceful race of people who had magical abilities. The Formorians, who had settled the same area, were jealous of these newcomers and wished to posses their magic so they set out to conquer and enslave the Tuatha De Danann.”

“It wasn’t until after several conflicts that the two races decided to join together as families, thus preserving peace in the land. Bres, a Formorian King and Brighid, a fair daughter of the Tuatha De Danann, were wed. This was how humans with  faerie blood began.”

“There was peaceful coexistence until the Milesians challenged the Tuatha De Danann and won. At that point, the Tuatha De Danann retreated underground into a parallel realm.” Arial stood and shook her wings out, flipped them once and hovered in the air, gently swinging back and forth.

I jumped at the chance to ask the question. “Are you telling me that I have faerie blood in me?” Arial beamed, delighted that I had caught the jest of her story and proceeded to perform intricate spirals in the air. “But what does that have to do with Bill not being able to remember seeing faeries?”

Arial landed back on my shoulder and continued. “Our leaders were worried about the safety of those humans with faerie blood. If the Milesians ever found out, they would make sure that they ceased to exist. A group of faeries were charged with watching over and protecting these chosen ones, preparing for the time when they would help with the Tuatha De Danann’s return.”

“At first, there were enough faeries to carry out the task, but as the generations unfolded, we needed help. We relied on humans who didn’t have faerie vision, but who were blessed with exceptional intuition and sensitivity to watch over the chosen ones, we only stepped in as needed… Bill is your intuitive other half.”

My mind was reeling, could this be true? I had been so enthralled with Arial’s story that I hadn’t noticed the other faeries gathering in the branches above us. There were hundreds of them, sitting quietly among the soft green leaves, listening to the story (faeries do love a good story!). When Arial stopped talking, they all stood up and fluttered their wings giving the trees a wiggle picture effect.

Arial spoke again. “Your faerie blood is handed down to you through your mothers family. Your grandparents both had faerie blood. This happens sometimes because those with faerie blood are attracted to others of the same, it makes for a stronger bond to the lineage.”  She smiled brightly. “We can trace your ancestry  in a straight line back to Bres and Brighid. This something that very few can claim.”

“It is no accident that a portal to the faerie realm exists in your garden, Kind One,  the emerald guard and I are honored to carry on the task set forth so long ago.”

I sat up a little straighter, smiling to myself  I wondered if I could tell Bill all of this.

© Tami Ruesch, The Misty World of Arial Hollyberry, 2009.