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Reflections
The day started just as many others had done before him, only this day would be like no other, for this was the day that despite his second sight, there would be a revelation. Lifting the pot of water from the fire, Merlin added the nettles and returned the pot to the boil whilst he searched for his mug. Dawn had broken, and the morning light was piercing the shutter on his window, filling the dark room with its rays. Opening the shutter, Merlin smiled to himself as the light hit his face. ‘Beautiful’ He thought, as he stood there for a short time, taking in the early weak sun’s warmth. A hiss of water boiling over broke him from his daydream, as he retrieved his mug and went back to the fire. Placing the pot on the table he then reached for his stirrer and began to mix the brew as the hot vapours of the tea filled his nostrils, before pouring the green hot liquid into his mug, leaving the boiled nettle leaves behind. It was a chilly morning, and the fire was giving little comfort in his home; well, it was not home as such, for he travelled about so much he really didn’t know where to call home. But this old shack, set deep in the western lands of the realm, was the nearest thing he had to a home, and as he was here more often than not, it was the next best thing. It was dry at least, and although he was well used to living and sleeping outdoors, it did offer some small benefits that a cave or tree hollow did not; space being the obvious. Walking over to the fire, he placed the last of his logs upon it; a sure sign that he needed to get some more if he was to stay another night, so he would venture out later, once the sun was fully up and the frost had lifted a little. Then sitting down in the chair, his hands clasped around the hot mug, his mind wandered again. Time to most was relatively short, if someone lived sixty years that was a good life. But those like Merlin that lived far longer, were often envied by those leading a normal life span. This however was not always the case, for he himself had seen many born, grow up and die, in what seemed a blink of an eye. No, at times, longevity was not always a good thing. Still deep in thought, Merlin subconsciously sipped his tea, as flashes of a childhood came to him, an adolescence, times of happiness, times of sadness, times of achievement and times of failure. So many memories; more trappings of a long life. He had forgotten far more than he could ever remember, but it was all there, stored away ready to access when the time was right, yet some memories were painful, so those he tried to keep locked away. Taking another good sip of tea, he peered over his mug, his eyes scanning the shack as it filled with sunlight. The light flooding the room highlighting dust particles that were floating in the air, cobwebs littered the corners and there was a musty smell about the place. There was even a little moss growing around the window frame. He shook his head a little - tutting! “This will not do…...no….will not do at all, what if I had visitors?” He said, finishing his tea. as a soft hoot came from a darkened corner of the room. “What do you mean, no visitors? One never knows, and must always be prepared Cyclops , my old friend.” The Owl hooted again, adding a couple of screeches. “Yes, yes I know we are never here long enough to receive any company, but folk do know I come here, and as I said, one day who knows?” Cyclops, who was aptly named because of his one eye, was a small Tawny owl with the usual markings and large facial disc. He had been a companion of Merlin for many years now, after being found one day whilst the old man was out walking, flapping around on the ground with a broken wing and damaged eye. He took the injured owl home and managed to reset and make good the wing, but sadly the eye could not be saved. So Merlin kept the owl; for an owl with one eye was not the great hunter it once was, even though Merlin was a great believer in not interfering with nature, and letting things take its course. But the poor creature was suffering and he had heard the creature's plea for help, so he willingly obliged. “You, Cyclops, are getting cantankerous in your old age my friend. I think maybe you should get some air, so now that I have finished my tea, maybe it’s time we ventured out, go find some wood for that fire, and perhaps the odd mouse or two for your breakfast. What do you say to that?” The owl simply replied with a ruffling of his feathers, to which Merlin huffed. Rising from the chair, Merlin walked over to a pail of water, where he would place the mug for washing, but before doing so he gazed into the mug and gave it whirl, waiting for the remnants of the leaves to settle. Then looking into the mug, he studied the pattern that had been left and raised an eyebrow in bemusement and gave a quiet chuckle, as he dropped into the water. “I’ll rinse that later Cyclops,” He said, to which the owl again just remained silent. Merlin then made his way to the door, and opened it, surveying the outside as if in some approval. “A fine morning my feathered friend, such a day to stretch one’s legs, or in your case - wings, and take in the cool crisp air. Come now, let us see what we can find.” With that the owl opened its wings and swooped out of the shack. Merlin grabbed his satchel that was hanging by the door, placed it over his head, then took his staff that was leaning against the frame, stepped out, and closed the door behind him. Cyclops soared above the wizard as he walked, but not too high, his one eye limiting his field of vision and judgement, yet still the owl instinctively scoured the ground looking for prey, even though he had no chance of catching it. Merlin glanced up, giving a sigh, for he knew that although the owl was reasonably happy, he still could not help feeling a little sorry for his predicament, knowing full well that Cyclops would stand no chance if left to fend for himself. Yet being outside flying was giving the owl some life, and over the years they had helped each other a great deal, as well as keeping each other company. In fact they were pretty well matched, for both were old, both liking little other company, and both a little tetchy. The sun was still low and offered little warmth, with the air cold enough to show the wizard’s breath. There had been a slight frost, and now, where the sun’s rays were beginning to hit, the whiteness was just beginning to thaw a little, and would do so as the day grew, leaving just the sheltered spots white and untouched, as if they were a small winter realm. There was a crunch underfoot as Merlin walked upon the frozen leaves and grass, and the birds were very vocal, no doubt complaining to each other about the hard ground and lack of worms. The path Merlin took, led down to a small stone circle which he visited most days. For here he would sit amongst the stones and contemplate, sometimes in meditation, sometimes to seek guidance, and sometimes just for the peace and tranquillity. For thousands of years, the Ancient people of these lands had constructed and used these open-air temples for many celebrations and ceremonies, both in life and death. Here they would connect with the spirits of old and with the help and wisdom of their elders and the Druids, find answers to their prayers and beliefs, as they honoured the yearly sabbats, the circle itself, like that of the wheel of life. Now sadly though most lay unused, the grass growing over the sacred site, and the stones often torn up and used in the construction of buildings. Christianity had arrived and was sweeping the land, the old ways being forgotten or stamped out as the new religion took its grip on the people, often building upon the Ancient sites themselves. Now Merlin was not adverse to change, for he had seen it many times, and often welcomed the new, for that was how life evolved, ever changing, ever growing. But there had to be a balance, there had to be an understanding, and there had to be respect, for without these, then divides would form and prejudice would manifest itself within people, which would ultimately lead to hostilities. Ignorance bred fear, and that was the enemy of peace. He shook his head. “When will man ever learn?” He said to himself. He entered the circle, giving a blessing and thanks to the spirits as he did so, and as he arrived at where the altar stone would have been, he stood and looked around the circle. These were still powerful places, despite their falling from grace. There were not many Druids left now, the Romans had seen to that, plus Christianity now had a firm grip upon the land, so the Gods that were worshiped were now being replaced by the so-called one true God. So there he stood, eyes closed, with the cool air upon his face, taking in the silence and soaking up the earth's energy, when a scratch brought him back to the here and now. He looked up, “What is it now my scitty feathered friend?” To which the owl screeched again as it flew above him in circles. Merlin looked to the east, and there over in the distance he could make out a lone figure on horseback. He squinted, trying to focus on who it might be, friend of foe, he could not yet tell, other than it looked like a female, but still he could not be sure, so he walked off to the edge of the circle. In the few moments it took him to reach the outer stones, and the ground the rider had also made up in that time, he could then tell for certain that it was a woman. For unknown to him this was the day that would change him forever, for this was the day he would meet the daughter he never knew he had.
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