Litha

It had not always been thus for Crow Fae.  There was once a time when we were free, we chose our own destiny, imparting our magic to whomever we pleased; dwellers of land, sea and air.

But a thousand years ago a small number of Fae became arrogant and vain, thinking they were beyond retribution.  So, The Listener took away their freedom and made them slaves of Crow for all eternity.  Over time a respectful love blossomed amongst Fae with Crow.

Throughout the year Crow collects a melange of treasures; shiny, pretty things that are never truly inanimate objects, for each ‘thing’ has a history. All objects have an essence, animation, a past, touched with the transference of memories, desires, woes and ambitions.

On this, most auspicious of nights, Mid Summer when the dark has barely a moment of being.  The Light shines throughout.  It is the time of redemption.  Every year The Listener imparts and bestows the most benevolent of gifts by choosing one of the treasures. Revealing the history and divining the heart of the element, the treasure is then gifted its return to fulfil the dreams of the owner.

As dusk descends and clans return to The Slumber, greeting calls alongside the shape-shifting black clouds, rise and fall as the lungs of a sleeping giant. When all have settled on a familiar perch, a quiet apprehensive hush descends.

The muted tones of anticipation give way to utter silence as the earth around the Slumber takes on an opaque shimmer, and before long a pure golden light is seen travelling through the earth. The Light reaches the mighty oaks, rising from the ground, radiating life giving arteries, creeping up the barks and along the branches. Fingers of spun sugar, it spreads into the higgledy piggledy array of debris; searching.

When all is bathed in the golden brilliance, pulsing channels, encompassing all of The Slumber, the silence would have deafened the human ear. Then, in a heartbeat, the golden shroud was gone save for a single luminous, flickering as a candle in a breeze, amongst a jumble of twigs. The Light enveloped an object that caused a rasping of breath amongst all the clans.

One Crow with her Fae, appeared non-pulsed by the choosing.  Amongst her debris lay a perfectly formed ringlet of shinning golden hair, the first precious cut from an infants’ head, a keepsake; a reminder of innocence and purity.

As the Fae inhaled deeply to speak, a luminous brilliance began to emanate turning her wings and hair from black to golden. The golden lock gravitated to the golden curls upon her head; returned at last.

 “I have lived amongst you for a thousand years. I have witnessed the growing bonds of loyalty and devotion twixt Crow and Fae. From this moment, The Listener grants the Crow Fae freedom to again choose their destiny......”

Her words were drowned amidst a fluttering of Fae and Crow wings, a desperate plaintive murmur rose up around the Slumber, Crow believing their dear friends would abandon them. Bereft, their agonies echoed throughout the mighty Oaks.

But with freedom comes choice and the Fae chose to stay.

If you can be still for just a moment; stand at the field gate at dusk watching the Slumber, feel the silent breath of wings returning to roost and let your eyes go off focus, you are sure to see an exalted Crow Fae arms held aloft in reverence to the gift of freedom. Riding freehand and laughing with exhilaration, streaming vapour trails of ebony black hair with head thrown back in silent, gleeful mirth; then, laying flat against the glistening feathers, making haste, streamlining body with steed. Fae and Crow as One.

Freedom is a gift; use it wisely.

By Christie Slade

To contact or read more by Christine please follow her twitter account @kiddicottfarm

 

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