Sisceal

"Such a fine bunch 'o lads...tis a pity I can only pick one." Cré bit her lower lip and blushed, glancing around to see who might have heard her brazen words.

Niamh covered her wide mouth and giggled, "I won't say a thing, ma'am."

Cré nodded her head at her servant girl, "I ken my words can be trusted with you," she paused and tapped a gloved finger to her lips, "In fact, perhaps ya might be of some help to me in this sticky situation."

"Ma'am?"

"This Harvest Moon night I must accept one of these dathūil men as a husband. For sure, now, I'd love some help on which to choose."

Niamh's green eyes glinted mischievously, "Aye, ma'am! And I know the perfect way to do the choosin'!"

"Do ya now?" Cré grinned at the girl, noting how the freckles on her nose stood out on her fair face.

"The feet can tell when the heart cannot."

"Ach, are ya plying me with riddles like the wee folk now, Niamh?" Cré shook her head and allowed a ghost of a smile to grace her lips.

"Nay, ma'am. It's a saying me dear da used to tell me. He met Mam one October at a party such as this. He's always said dancin' was the key to wooin' her heart. So all ya need to do is dance with each fine lad and yer feet will lead the way for yer heart!"

Cré pursed her lips and stared doubtfully at the girl, "Just dance? As simple as that?"

"Aye! And look, here comes Doiteáin. Ya can start with him!"

Doiteáin's red beard nearly touched his belt as he bowed from the waist, "I'd be honored if you'd dance a reel with me."

Cré placed her palm in his, flinching at the heat his hand produced. She fought the urge to pull back her fingers and instead allowed herself to be swept onto the dance floor. Her pleated tunic twirled around her ankles as their feet moved to the fiddle.

"What do yer toes tell ya, ma'am?" Niamh asked with a sly grin. Cré watched Doiteáin's retreating back as he wandered to a table laden with roasted hens, sliced hams, and buttered rolls. She frowned, noting a gaggle of young women hurrying to Doiteáin's side. "Look how they flock to him like moths to a flame." She shook her head, "Nay, my toes are rather quiet on this matter."

Niamh's pixie face fell, producing a rare frown. Cré gently lifted her chin.

"Don't ya be worryin' none. We have two more fine bachelors to pick from, aye? In fact, I see Gaoithe is looking me way." She gleaned a small smile from the girl before lowering herself in a curtsy. Gaoithe's hand was white and willowy. Cré hesitated before taking it. The moment her hand touched his she found herself spun into the midst of the dancers.

"Don't ask me about my toes, dear Niamh." Cré laughed after Gaoithe brought her back to her servant, "For I dinnae feel them touch the floor at 'tall whilst the pipes were playin'. Gaoithe's simple costume might be of little plumage, but he dances like an autumn leaf whirling from the trees."

Niamh clapped her hands in glee. "Is he the one then, ma'am?"

"I dinnae ken," Cré murmured, "For all his fine dancing all I can think is that the wind blows where it pleases...ya can hear its sound but ya can't tell where it's coming from or where it might be going...And I like to ken where I'm going, dearie."

"Perhaps you'll have more sonas with Uisce--"

"I'll need more than luck with that lad." Cré popped open a hand fan and hid a grin behind it. "Did ya ken he's kin to Gaoithe?"

"Nay! Really, ma'am?"

"Aye. Rumor has it that he, too, comes and goes as he wills. Like the tide, they say. I cannae stand such...instability."

"Will ya not dance with him then, ma'am?"

Cré sighed. "I'd hate to disregard a man because of a rumor...Aye. I'll dance with him."

"Very good, ma'am...cause he's a-comin' up behind ya."

Again Cré curtsied and found herself flung out among a swirl of colorful tunics. Uisce was a rather large man and Cré felt like a twig caught in an eddy as she hung on his arm. He jigged one way and then another as if uncertain where, exactly, the dancers were to prance.

Cré was grateful when the music ended and she was able to sit again. She gasped for air and watched Uisce lumber to the bar for a pint of ale.

"For all his muscle and strength, he is a bit wishy-washy," she said to Niamh. She pressed a hand over her beating heart. "I think I need a drop of something, after that round."

"I'll get right on it, ma'am."

Cré kept her eyes on the girl as she rushed to the bar for a glass. A shadow fell and a soft voice filtered down from a great height, "Cré...may I have the last damhsa on this fine Harvest Moon night?"

"Spás amuigh! I dinnae ken ya were here!" Cré rose from her seat and smiled. The grin he returned had her heart hammering for an entirely different reason. She found herself lost in his dark eyes as they danced, fascinated with the lights and worlds she found in his gaze. The music ended but the two continued to move to an invisible beat.

"I wish this cèilidh would never end." Cré sighed, dropping her head to his sturdy shoulder.

"It doesn't have to, you ken." Spás amuigh whispered. And so the two waltzed on.

Grandmother closed the auld buik with reverence. "And that, my dear bairns, is how Cré met her Beloved. Now every night and every morn she spins and twirls in his embrace. Earth and Space together. Forever."