One Midsummer's Night

One Midsummer's Night

by Lyndon Perry

A lone traveler, aged, hungry and frail, stumbled along a path that disappeared into the shadows of the hills just north of the small village. He'd only been able to beg a meal and a few coppers from a kindly washerwoman before he was unceremoniously ushered out the gate.

No vagrants after dusk, he'd been told that evening, and countless times before.

So the sun set on another day of despair as the nameless wanderer wound his way, staff in hand, among the brush and bramble, searching for a makeshift home before continuing his journey on the morrow to the capital. He might find better opportunity there.

The sweet floral fragrance of high summer was a comfort, however; earthy notes of lichen and rock brought back pleasant memories of better days on the road. The air was clear and the evening star shone brightly, announcing the coming of twilight. It gave him slight hope.

Before long the lonely traveler spied a recess in the rock, and entering the cave, assessed the barren accommodations. It would have to do. He slumped against a side wall, the low ceiling pushing him down both body and soul. Walking stick beside him and nibbling blindly on a piece of stale bread, he thought of nothing until sleep overtook him.

The moon took its turn to rule the night and shone down upon the low hills, its light glancing off rocks and weather-worn crags. An ancient spirit stirred deep within the cave where the traveler lay, the presence of the human intruder enough to awaken the long-forgotten wight. As the original inhabitant of the vale below, the earth-spirit, Nissa, took note of the man and moved to the mouth of the cave. He looked out across the sloping meadow that led to the village of N'tana, which sat upon his ground, his land.

From the tiny hamlet came distant echoes of merriment, song and laughter. The people would be dancing in the village square. Having secured the gate for the night, all but one guard would be joining in the midsummer night's festivities as they all raised token mugs to Nissa's health and prayed empty prayers for protection until Yule's arrival six months hence.

Unbelievers!

The wight burned with the anger of a slighted lover. It was no sacrifice that had awoken him this sacred night. It was the chance arrival and bodily warmth of a decrepit wanderer that brought him forth from deep within the earth. Nissa looked at the stars. From their position, he divined there had been no sacrifices for many, many years. The villagers had abandoned their master.

This would change.

The bodiless spirit turned to the human asleep in his cave. He hovered before him momentarily, touching the man's mind, living the wanderer's journey. Nissa entered the traveler and the wight took on flesh.

Before the night was through, N'tana would see the return of this lone rover. This time he would not be turned away. He would enter the village, not as some simple pilgrim passing through on his way north, but as the rightful master of the vale who had returned after long years to claim his due.

Terick kissed his wife and whispered something naughty in her ear, caressing her cheek before pulling away and standing to his feet. Belaré pushed at his hands, scolding him with a playful laugh.

"I will keep the bed warm for you, but only if after you finish your watch you come straight home. No early morning outings or excursions that may keep you away half the day. We have work to do on the morrow and if you want what you whispered to me just now, you'll mind what I say."

All around them, fellow villagers sang and drank and laughed and danced. The fire at the center of the square emitted a hospitable warmth, the aroma of wood smoke a familiar friend. The midsummer night's festival had reached its peak and Terick's guard house duty called. The joyful mood was contagious, however, and didn't dampen his spirits. He smiled mischievously at his wife.