The Warrior and The King: The Short Stories

9. Tir Na Nog

This story was written for a writing contest. The challenge was to write a story that incorporated elements from a song. I chose Tir Na Nog by Celtic Woman, solely because I love Celtic music. When I found out Tir Na Nog was the Celtic Otherworld I decided to incorporate as many elements of their mythology as I could. 

It is a bit of a depature from the other Warrior and The King stories, but it is one of my favorites. 

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It was one of those perfect fall days. The sun warm, a hint of chill in the air, the faint whisper of winter to come. The ground was red with fallen pine needles, the air full of the smell of damp earth and sun on rotten logs. Thorin Oakenshield picked his way along the narrow path, between the towering trees. All his life he had enjoyed walking in the woods, he had spent much of his youth exploring the forests around Erebor, on a day like this he could almost imagine he was walking the paths of the Lonely Mountain. It was two days until Samhain, his wife would be arriving tomorrow. After almost six months apart he was impatient to see her, to feel her soft hair, taste the sweat on her skin after their lovemaking, to bask in her brilliant smile.

As he moved through the forest Thorin had the feeling of being watched. He paused several times, sending his awareness out around him but he could not locate it. He could feel the woods, the soft exhale of cool earth, hear a distant waterfall of birdsong, the chattering of offended squirrels. Whatever was watching him was somewhere off in the forest, staying at a distance. It did not feel threatening. As he walked the woods began to open up, the ferns and mossy logs stretching away on either side under the dark firs. Thorin was looking at the path, his thoughts full of Kaylea Wolf. He had found a beautiful old bracelet for her in a little shop on Sparta, First Empire work and very fine, but he would need to rework it a bit and reset the gems. He was thinking about the settings when he felt a sudden shift, like a door had shut behind him. Looking around he could see the path had passed between two standing stones, tall and straight. Blackened and moss-covered, he had not noticed them until he felt the air change. Around him the forest appeared the same, all was still and dappled with sunlight, but he had the feeling everything was somehow changed, like he had stepped into a different reality. There was a tension in the air of something about to happen. Then he heard the sound of soft singing on the wind.

Come, my love, our worlds will part

The gods will guide us across the dark,

Come with me and be mine, my love

Stay and break my heart

Come beyond the ancient fog,

Tir na Nog, oh

Come with me to Tir na Nog

The voice was sad, and filled with such longing, almost without thinking he followed the sound. He came to a place where the ground slanted down to a wall of rock, like the land had suddenly fallen away to reveal the bones beneath. A meandering wall of granite, almost fifteen meters high in places, the roots of trees hanging over the edge. Almost in front of him at the base of the cliff Thorin could see a narrow opening, obviously not natural. Even more curious now, he made his way down to it, laying his hands on the stone. The rock was ancient and deep, he could feel the ore twisting through the stone, pockets of silver waiting to be found. The opening was bordered with some kind of script, faint, almost worn away. Dorsai was old enough to have seen the rise and fall of several civilizations, he had heard the standing stones and their language were from some earlier time, their meaning lost to history. The singing started again, wafting out through the opening, he had to know the origin of this sad voice. Thorin eased through the entrance, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust for the darkness. The passage was wet and narrow, a natural fracture in the rock that had been enlarged, the floor leveled, he stepped on the remains of old paving stones.