Bedtime Story: Reflections Of The Past: Earth: Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Rowan lay quite still,

Peering into the sacred pool.

She had been there for a very long time,

And her limbs felt as if they were turned to stone.

The sun had moved across the sky,

Casting a variety of shadows onto the water,

And the ravens croaked and tumbled high above,

But still she was unable to make out anything other than the slow sway of weedy fronds on the pool's rocky floor and the odd scuttle of a tiny creature below.

Occasionally she noticed a small green frog,

Which made its home in the mossy crevices,

Swimming just below the surface of the water with swift,

Strong strokes,

Before disappearing beneath the rocks on the other side.

Rowan sighed,

Rolled over,

And stretched her aching limbs.

It was not much of a pool,

As far as she was concerned,

And why it was so revered and seen as sacred she could not understand,

Although it had never been known to fail in the memory of the villagers,

Even through the terrible summer they often spoke of,

When she and Jun were born,

And people from all around came for water because everywhere else ran dry.

That was fifteen summers ago,

And sometimes Rowan felt it could have been much longer than a lifetime.

Rowan opened her eyes and allowed her gaze to wander to the high pinnacle of rock on her right,

Which guarded the valley,

An ancient and immovable presence from which a number of rowan trees sprang,

In summer a mass of greenery,

Now their branches heavy with orange and red berries,

As autumn began to prepare for the hardships of the winter to come.

Below,

The river snaped through the valley,

Flashing silver in the sunlight,

And to her left she could make out the tops of the villagers' huts huddled together,

More rocks towering above them,

Mirror guardians to the pinnacle on her right.

On the other side of the river,

The bank rose steeply to the sky,

Covered with low scrub of thorn and stilted oak,

Turning to brown now autumn was in full fruit.

The rowan is the symbol of protection and insight.

She had heard this more times than the moon had risen during her lifetime,

For her mother believed the birth of Rowan and her twin Jun that scorching summer to be the salvation of the villagers,

An omen which portended their importance during the years to come.

Rowan,

As daughter of the chief,

Was destined to be the guardian of the sacred pool,

And Jun,

As his firstborn son,

Named after the juniper which could be found further along the valley,

Would one day be the leader of the people.

But both secretly knew their roles should have been reversed.

Rowan felt as if she had been bound to the sacred pool since birth,

And simply could not understand why the care of it had fallen to her,

While Jun spent his days learning how to shape the shaft of a spear,

And even carve his own spearhead.

Rowan sat up as the usual feeling of jealousy gripped her.

It was not fair.

She would have preferred to spend more time with the other women,

Weaving the cloth,

Crushing the wheat,

Or baking.

All practical tasks where at least she could see some result at the end of the day,

Rather than tending the pool,

Gathering herbs,

And spending most of her time either gazing into the water,

Or watching the clouds rolling overhead,

And dreaming of the great warrior her brother would undoubtedly one day become.

There was a fighting spirit inside Rowan,

But she often felt she had nothing to fight for.

As she lay back once more,

A shadow fell across her,

Blocking the light of the sun.

She opened her eyes to find Jun standing over her,

A mirror image of herself,

Tall and slim,

With curling dark hair,

Although his held a reddish glint in the sunlight.

Rowan jumped up,

On guard.

Jun raised his hands in defence,

A grin on his face,

But a second later found himself winded on his back.

Rowan triumphantly astride him.

You'll have to do better than that,

Brother,

She laughed.

And so will you.

Jun pushed her aside,

And Rowan cursed as she became entangled in her woven underskirt,

Wishing she were allowed to wear leggings like her brother,

Securely strapped around his long legs and allowing ease of movement.

Jun rolled over,

Peering into the pool,

Becoming still and silent.

He remained there for several moments,

Until Rowan began to fidget and fiddle with the small basket of herbs she had gathered earlier.

She popped a sprig of yarrow into her mouth and began to chew,

Savouring its bitter flavour.

Jun plunged his hand into the pool and pulled something out.

A long,

Narrow crystal,

Yet like no stone the twins had ever seen before,

For parts of it were translucent,

Starting with a base of green at one end,

Like the green of the valley in springtime,

Moving through to the violet of the rainbow,

And ending in a brightly sparkling tip.

It lay in Jun's hand as long as his palm and wide as two fingers,

And Rowan gasped,

Where did you find that?

I didn't see it.

Jun sighed and shook his head.

It was lying towards the back of the pool,

Beneath a clump of weed,

But if you'd taken the time to look you would have noticed it when the weed shifted slightly and.

.

.

Rowan grabbed the crystal from Jun's hand and held it up to the light,

Where it caught a stray sunbeam and flashed with all the colours of the rainbow.

The only time I've ever seen anything remotely like this,

Began Jun,

Mesmerised by the colours which continued to swirl and flash around the crystal with a life of their own,

Was when Crow used his ceremonial staff,

The powerful one he only brings out on special occasions,

And which he says is filled with magic and.

.

.

Let's not talk about him.

Rowan dropped the stone back into Jun's hand,

And the flashing ceased,

Leaving nothing but a beautiful crystal shining in the sunlight.

But don't you see?

Oh no more,

Rowan snatched the crystal and tossed it into the pool,

Where it fell with a plop and a gurgle.

There,

It's back in now.

When you've gone I'll do my job properly,

And spend a long time staring into nothing but a pool of water,

And then I'll find it and everything will be alright again.

Jun shook his head.

You know it doesn't work like that.

He sat cross-legged,

Gazing at the rocks before him.

The cliff,

Three times the height of a man,

From the top of which the sacred spring burst forth,

Towered above them.

Years of trickling water had changed the rock face to grey-black,

In contrast to the white of the surrounding stones,

And clumps of green moss fed by the never-ending water supply clung to the rocks all the way down.

The rock face had always entranced Jun,

As the water had found a hundred different channels and worn the surface away with its gentle caress over the years,

Eventually forming the sacred pool at the bottom.

When the sun shone in the morning,

The light stole over the rocks above and lit the surface of the pool,

Sending fingers of gold into the ferns which surrounded it.

The water was always warm,

Even in the depths of winter it never froze,

And in the evening as the sun sank behind the hill on the opposite side of the valley,

A warmer golden hue infused the pool,

Shadows flickering across its surface,

Hinting of hidden depths.

Jun noticed too,

Although he was sure Rowan had no idea,

The way in which the pool itself changed with the turning of the year.

In the springtime,

When new life was abundant,

There was a fresh,

Pure feel to it,

As if the water was unable to run fast enough,

As though it had the whole valley to nourish.

By midsummer,

When the crops lay abundant in the fields and greenery was all around,

Interspersed with summer flowers,

The pool appeared more languid,

As if resting for a moment,

Enjoying the fruits of its labour earlier in the year.

And by autumn,

When the harvest had been gathered and the world was moving towards the time of darkness,

The water,

Although always trickling steadily,

Felt a little slower,

As though waiting to rest.

Now,

Approaching the time of the Festival of the Ancestors,

And midwinter no more than a bend in the path away,

Shadows flitted across the surface of the pool,

Some swift and deaf,

Others darker and more lingering.

By midwinter,

The valley would be covered in snow,

Icicles hanging long and twinkling down the cliff face,

The water of the pool still strangely warm to the touch.

There was a toad which appeared from time to time,

As if sharing the guardianship of the pool with the frog,

Its slow movements and jewel-like eyes speaking of an ancient wisdom.

If John lay for long enough,

He could sometimes see the movement of the shadows in the water's clear depths,

And even the faces of people.

On one occasion he had seen a woman with hair fashioned from the flight of the swallows and a garment of meadowsweet.

But he blinked in amazement,

The vision vanished,

And he never saw her again,

No matter how long he waited.

Don't forget the crystal,

He reminded Rowan,

As he rolled back from the edge of the pool,

And they lay side by side,

Surveying the valley.

I have a feeling someone from a very long way away left it there.

Rowan shrugged.

Don't worry,

I can pull out a crystal as well as anyone.

I just think it's important,

John turned away.

How could he ever explain that when he plunged his hand into the pool and the water swirled around his fist,

For a split second amongst the sunlight and the shadows,

He had seen a great ship sailing over a sea,

Something he only heard of in tales,

And he knew the crystal to be more important than Rowan would ever realise.

Come on,

Rowan pulled him to his feet,

Unable to sit for more than a few moments.

We've done all we need here,

You promised to give me another lesson in spear-throwing.

John sighed,

There was no arguing with his sister when she was in this mood.

But as he turned away from the pool and they made their way into the valley,

He wished for the thousandth time,

With all his heart,

It was he who had been entrusted with the care of the sacred pool,

Rather than Rowan,

Who appeared to have no affinity with it at all.