Exhausted, I sat upon a mound on the Hill of Tara in Ireland. The light was golden and a soft breeze ruffled my clothes. The troubles I carried with me weighed heavily on my mind and without conscious thought I offered a prayer to the Great Whatever – a simple, instinctual cry for help.
Immediately I was transported to a mythic kingdom beneath the mound. Some alternate reality in a cavern where countless faery folk partied with complete abandon. Before I had a chance to withdraw and ponder my experience a tall elfish man in a glittering raiment of silver and sapphire blue separated himself from the group and came towards me.
“What do you want?” he demanded imperiously.
Intimidated by his manner I stumblingly explained my problem.
“Well, I don’t know what you expect us to do,” he jeered. “We are the Tuatha de Danann. We do not interfere in the ways of men.”
“I’m desperate,” I pleaded. “I ask not for myself but for the innocent children who are suffering in the situation.”
The elf looked at me with strange inhuman eyes. They glinted as hard and cold as the metallic silver of his robes. I shivered realizing I had unknowingly blundered into a reality that could overwhelm me without a second thought. The wild, discordant music grew louder and I backed away.
The elf in front of me appeared to grow taller and his piercing eyes seemed to search my heart and mind to see if what I had said was true. “We will see what we can do,” he said abruptly.
The scene faded and I was back sitting on the mound. The ground beneath me was damp and the golden light had now diffused into a haze that obscured distances. Thinking about what had just occurred I gazed into the mists. A man appeared then dressed entirely in brown. As he passed by the base of the mound he looked at me curiously. An elfish grin played across his mouth.
I sat on awhile but the damp was uncomfortable. I climbed down and walked back towards the tour bus that would take me back to Dublin. Just before the turnstile the man in brown sat beside the path playing a lilting air on a tin whistle. The jaunty tune delighted me and I placed a golden Euro in his cap upturned on the ground. Once again he grinned at me with a cheeky, elfish smile. I could do naught but smile back.
Within a fortnight the situation I had prayed about took an unexpected turn. There was a sudden rift that allowed me to help the children in a very real and concrete way. From that moment their situation began to improve. It was only months later when the worst of the drama was over that I reflected back on my time on the Hill of Tara. Since then I have had an unshakeable conviction that the Tuatha de Danann do indeed live beneath that hill and that they can wield powerful magic.
wrapped in gold and silver
beneath a faery mound.
– a strange integrity
shifting my reality
https://colleenchesebro.com/2018/02/13/colleens-weekly-tanka-tuesday-poetry-challenge-no-71-character-affection-snyonymsonly/ I used the words ‘ integrity’ and ‘kindness’
Some links to stories about the Tuatha de Danann