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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #1653613
A story from the beginnings of Ireland about the birth of legends.
Tuatha Dé Danann

The morning light transformed from a pale glow to shafts of brilliance as it cut its way through the rising mist. The heavily laden air stirred as dark forms coalesced, as if the fog itself was giving birth.

Kahnh gazed over the emerging field as he watched the battle begin to unfold from his observation post. From the outside, his vantage point appeared to be a large outcrop of the granite that poked through the verdant land. The unique structure of it, however, allowed a panoramic view of the surrounding area from inside.

He felt his comm vibrate and opened a channel.

"Kahnh, report." It was the voice of Commander Leperaugh.

"Sir, it begins. The group called the Tuatha De demanded this land and the inhabitants, the Fir Bolg, have refused."

"Is your post secure?"

Kahnh wiped a small, green-tinged hand over his forehead. His brow reflected pale red in the monitor, indicating his indecision. He couldn't say why but he had grown fond of these pale 'men' that inhabited this planet. "Yes, sir. They remain totally unaware that we're here."

"Keep it that way. We are here to observe only!"

"Yes sir." Kahnh ended the call and wondered if he'd said or done something that would cause the Commander to remind him in such sharp terms. Nothing came to mind.

Turning up the volume, he listened as Nauda, the leader of the Tuatha De, began to speak to his men.

Tall, well muscled, with a mane of flaming hair, he spoke of their right to this land called Érenn. "Our forefathers ruled this land. My own ancestor, Nehmed, was a mighty King and this land is my birthright. We will reclaim what was his – we will claim what is ours!" His voice rang across the gathering and was answered by the shout of his army, reverberating like the roar of a beast.

From across the open area, the Fir Bolg began to chant "Sreng, Sreng," naming their champion to lead them. Kahnh was amazed to see a rather ordinary looking man come forward. He touched his screen, magnifying the area. Why him? he wondered. He's not particularly big nor does he appear strong ... His questions were cut off as Sreng moved, his weapon a blur as the sword cut the air.

As if by unspoken consent, both groups began moving forward. Within moments, the clash of weapons and grunts of effort resounded across the field. Kahnh's attention was drawn to a clear space that had opened in the middle of the chaos. There stood Nauda and Sreng.

It was a classic battle of strength against agility. The ebb and flow of the combat was mesmerizing. Nauda's strikes were fierce but Sreng's quickness seemed to be winning as his parrying blows tore at his enemy's strength. Finally, Nauda launched a withering attack but Sreng leapt aside, bringing his sword down with a mighty effort. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Naruda stopped and turned, seemingly staring into Kahnh's eyes. His right arm was severed at the elbow. Slowly, he sank to his knees, clutching at the bleeding stump.

Kahnh shook himself, finally bringing his attention back to the larger battle. The Fir Bolg, despite their champion's victory, were in retreat, dozens of their comrades lying wounded, dead or dying. Focusing, he began cataloguing the survivors, the types of weapons used and the tactics in an effort to assess the developmental level to what he had seen.

"Watcher!" The voice seemed right next to his ear and Kahnh jumped. He whipped around and there, looming just outside his post, was Nauda! As he watched, the man crumpled to the ground, clearly weakened but still conscious.

Kahnh was stupefied. "By the sacred helix, what am I do?" he asked of himself. I will surely be disciplined but I cannot let this sentient creature die - not when it's in my power to save him.

He palmed the door, which dilated open appearing like a swirling rainbow. He knew he would look strange to Nauda's eyes. His race was small –no more than half the height of the natives - with green tinged skin and a crown that changed colors from a pale pink to bright red, depending on their emotional state. He was positively glowing now.

"Wha... what are you? Are you a god?" Nauda croaked.

"No, I am called Kahnh."

"Did the gods send you?"

"No, my Commander – Leperaugh."

"Then you would be Leperaugh Kahnh," he smiled weakly before passing out.

Moving quickly, Kahnh used a portable medical unit to fuse the end of the Nauda's arm and heal the wound. If I only had the severed limb, I could restore him completely. Kahnh sighed. He knew that without a limb, Nauda would be at a severe disadvantage. Well, he thought, I'm in for it as it is.

Back inside, he used the biosim unit to fashion an arm. It shone like gold when he brought it back out into the mid-day sun. With the help of the med unit, he attached it, carefully hooking up the nerves to the complex interface.

Nauda groaned a bit, his eyes fluttering open as he regained consciousness. His eyes widened as he saw the arm. Tentatively, he opened and closed the hand, then moved the arm.

"Leperaugh Kahnh, I have no way of thanking you for your golden gift. Whatever I can do, you have but to ask."

Thinking, Kahnh finally said, "There are two things you can do for me, Nauda. First, you must keep our meeting a secret."

"I swear – no word will ever escape my lips."

"The second is a request. How did you find me? How did you know I was here?"

With a short laugh, Nauda replied, "I am a son of this earth, a son of Érenn. True children of this land can always spot a sham rock!

Nauda didn't keep his promises. Over the next few years, he would tell of catching the leprechaun – dressed in green with blazing red hair - who appreared from a rainbow and gifted him gold. The rest, as they say, is mythology.

Notes:
An entry for "Invalid ItemOpen in new Window.
Prompt: St. Patrick's Day

Tuatha Dé Danann – literally from Old Irish, "peoples of the goddess Danu" and inhabitants of early Ireland.

This is based, in part *Bigsmile*, on Irish historical legend. For more information, see Tuatha De Danann  Open in new Window.

Word Count: 999

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Please, as long as you're here, leave a comment. Criticisms, thoughts, reactions, yes – even words of encouragement or praise – are all equally welcome *Smile*

Ken
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