The Gratitude Festivals
A Thanksgiving tale from Crann Na Beatha.
“In the fullness of time, all the people gathered and offered prayers of gratitude to those who had given them balance.” – Mixcoatl “The days of gratitude.”
It was fall at Tha an Flur Mansa, and the summer flora had given way to fall foliage. The trees were slowly drifting off to sleep; their dryads curled up safely inside the great tree trunks.
Inside the great manse, Rhyslin and his bannaichean were finishing the decorations for the upcoming gratitude festival. There were scented candles along the walls, right above the sprigs of holly placed amid the strands of garland.
The long table centered the room, with eleven chairs gathered around it.
Rana, the young Ciad-Ghin spell-blade, took in the sight. “Why are we doing this again?” She was excited about the upcoming festival but confused about why it was being celebrated.
After sitting down, the old draoidh pulled out one of the chairs and gestured for Rana to join him. “Once each year, during the fall and before the deep winter, we gather to offer gratitude to the gods for giving us a year of balance and thanking them for our lives.” He turned his palm to the ceiling and extended it to his side. “We offer the final fruits of the season, the best wine and juice, and the choicest morsels of food. We invite them into our homes.” Or, in my case, her.
Fifty leagues from tha an Flur Mansa, Balgair Moeldr, the Reve of Eola County, was watching his bannaichean as they also finished their preparations for the upcoming festival.
I can’t decide whether I’m the luckiest man alive or incredibly cursed. Balgair thought as he watched the red-haired Ciad-Ghin Amelia tease Balgair’s newest bond (barely six months old), Heather, while the third woman, Nell, watched in silent amusement.
As if sensing his thought, the three women turned as one and stared at him. Oh-oh, Balgair looked around for the quickest escape route. It was easier to stall them before they bonded with Heather. “Now, Ladies, let’s not…” But it was too late, for when all three suddenly jumped him, he found himself the center of attention and the center of affection as each placed a kiss on his cheek.
“So,” Amelia grinned, “Is she going to join us tonight?”
“We can only pray,” Nell answered with a shrug. “We’ve always set a space at the gratitude table for her, but she’s never visited us.”
Heather’s eyes glowed with happiness as she looked from one to the other. “She? Do you mean?”
Balgair nodded. “Yes, her.” And this year, I get to be here.
Later that evening, the air was filled with excitement and anticipation, almost as if the world held its breath. In the brightly lit house in Eola, Balgair felt like a kid waiting to meet his first love interest.
He was rewarded for his faith when he heard a burst of lilting laughter in the wind, and his goddess appeared out of the air, materializing, as usual, in her Grecian toga and bangles. With a bright smile, she held out her arms to him. “May I enter, my gaisgeil gaolach[1] Balgair?”
Entranced, as always, by her voice, Balgair reached out and took her hand. “Of course, you may, my lady.”
Within seconds of her arrival, Amelia, Nell, and Heather peeked through the doorway and watched as Ananke enfolded Balgair in a hug. When the goddess looked over his shoulder and saw the three bannaichean peeking through the doorway and beckoned for them to approach.
In a move that surprised the other two women, Heather accepted the invitation and walked over to the goddess, kneeling at her feet. “Welcome to our home, my lady.”
“My foirfe umhail,” Ananke whispered, resting her right hand on Heather’s head. “Do you understand my promise now?”
Heather nodded, her heart singing. “Yes, my lady. You were right. This is where I am supposed to be.” She turned her head and beckoned to her bond-sister. “Come, Amelia and Nell, this is our goddess, Ananke.”
Both women cautiously approached Ananke, awe in their eyes as she reached out and touched them. “Now that you are together, I have a reason to visit.” She stated as she released Balgair.
The former mercenary took a deep breath and held out his hand, “If you will allow me, My Lady, we would like for you to see our house.” Then, he escorted his goddess to the place of honor at the head of his table.
Once seated, Amelia and Nell served Ananke wine and cheese while Heather gave her a plate of homemade bread and cooked grouse.
“Thank you, My Lady, for guiding me to my bannaichean and helping me find my family,” Balgair said with quiet reserve.
The dark-haired goddess accepted his words, pausing as she felt someone kneel at her side. A playful smile crossed her lips as she felt the quivering yet thankful spirit. When she turned her head to her left, she smiled at Heather, who took her smile as permission to approach, and instead of the reserved and cautious followers that she was used to, Heather practically threw herself at the goddess, hugging her tight.
Unable to speak, the blonde unhail clung to the goddess, her spirit singing her thanks.
You are very welcome, my child. She held Heather until she let go and crawled back to her maighstir.
At Tha an Flur Mansa, the hour was growing later and Rhyslin glanced toward the front door, for about the hundredth time. Have I finally offended her so badly that she won’t visit? His unease quickly filtered through the bond he shared with his bannaichean, prompting the dark-haired, dark-skinned Ria to wander over and settle into his lap.
“Is something wrong, mo ghràidh?” She whispered as he wrapped his arms around her.
Another glance at the door. “I may have finally offended Mathair in such a way that she won’t visit.” He sounded thoughtful, and she could hear the uncertainty in his normally confident voice.
Ria cast her eyes at the door, then looked to her bond-sisters. “Did you treat her any differently than normal?”
Rhyslin hesitantly shook his head, his concern deepening. “I do not think so.” Even though I treat her no differently, something seems off.
Just when he was about to give up, a subdued portal opened at the door frame. “May I have leave to enter your home, mac mo ghràidh[2]?”
With a sense of relief that his bannaichean could feel through the bond, Rhyslin nodded. “Yes, Mo mhàthair as gràdhaiche[3], you may.”
The subdued light sparkled like starlight as A’ Mathair nan Coille, Astinmah, the Forest Mother, and the woman who called Rhyslin son stepped through the veil between this world and the next.
As befit her divinity, she was arrayed in a gown of greens, golds, and reds, almost as if she were wearing the fruits of the forest. Her chestnut brown hair was upswept over her pointed ears and fell in cascades of night down her back. But, her brown eyes were set upon the Draoidh, and they were filled with concern. “I had feared that you didn’t want me to be here, mo mhac.” She took a hesitant step toward him, only to find that he had already crossed to her and enfolded her in a heartfelt hug.
“mo mhàthair bu mhilis[4], you’ve always been welcome in my home.” His breath caressed her cheeks, which were suddenly showered with tears of happiness. “I feared that I had greatly offended you.”
Astinmah’s eyes widened in shock. “You could never offend me, my child. I ... I ... thought I had driven you away.” With her hesitation gone, she returned Rhyslin’s hug, holding him tight.
“Oh, Mathair,” he murmured, “You could never drive me away, nor will I cease talking to you.”
Astinmah’s right eyebrow quirked, “Not pray to me?” She teased.
“Have I, ever in my life, prayed to you or worshipped you like the sagartan have demanded?” He slowly exhaled and walked toward the fireplace. “I was going to treat you to a Ria-cooked meal, but it’s grown cold.” At her look of anguish, he brushed away the dew-like tears on her cheeks. “I think that we will give thanks to you in a way that your sagartan will most definitely not approve.”
The forest mother nuzzled into his palms and followed him to what she knew to be his chair before the fire, and at his bidding, she took a seat.
She looked on in amazement as he took her hand. “My dearest mother, thank you for my life, heart, and soul. Thank you for guiding me (kicking and screaming like a petulant child) to these women who have become my life. I thank you for bringing Flur, Ria, and Rowena to me. I thank you for allowing me to help raise Rana. They have become the light of my life.” Once again, he brushed the tears from her cheeks. “This is why I will never pray to you. Prayers never convey how I really feel.”
Before she knew what was happening, Astinmah was gathered in a group hug, receiving honest, heartfelt thanksgiving from those who would always consider her not a goddess but a mother. In their hearts and souls, she could see how truly thankful they were for all she had done.
“Thank you for bringing me my Aon Socair[5],” Rana whispered in her ear as she rested her forehead against that of the goddess. “Thank you for saving my life.”
[1] Brave beloved
[2] My beloved son
[3] My dearest mother
[4] My dearest mother
[5] Calm one