Friday, February 1, 2008
Imbolc 2008
We arrive at the feast of St. Brigid, midway through the darkest portion of the year. A final celebration of winter before our minds turn toward the first campaigns of spring. We have healed from setbacks of the fall and now repair our equipment as the skalds and bards inspire us toward fresh glory with their ballads.
By the lake, the water sparkles with a dreamlike clarity as though filled with sparks thrown from a blacksmith's anvil. A storm cloud of crows rises to shadow our eyes as their contentious laughter startles us from slumber. We wake to a proxy war between the Norns and Fates. The Wyrd Sisters spin their magic from the well of the world tree while the Crones weave spells into the scenes of their tapestry and prepare to unleash the Furies for grievances against this life or the last. We thought their battle was just a brushfire war until the flames set the trees alight.
I hope the crows do not look down before reporting back to their mistresses as I think they would discover a salient, a small peninsula extending from our lines. Though we have fortified our position, I fear it may soon become untenable, a Maginot Line easily circumvented despite the fortune we have spent reinforcing it. Dark forces stalk between the brooding trees of the impassable and ancient forest that anchors our left flank, threatening to leave us an island amid a hostile sea should they find their way to the fields beyond.
We dream of conquests and counter-marches as we retreat toward our mountain strongholds to ride out this winter storm. Once the passes clear, we vow to unfurl our banners and raise the horns of war, reclaiming our destiny from such godlings and lesser men. I fear our gains will resemble the first footfalls on the last snows of winter, strikingly beautiful yet leaving no enduring impression.
Such are the dreams of Imbolc that lay restless within our minds as we sleep fitfully by the fire until winter melts into spring and the wind gives voice to the trees which whisper of brighter days to come.
© 2008 Edward P. Morgan III
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