The Wind in the North (Prologue )
It was a cold starry night, the kind of night where frost nibbles at fingers and toes. All was silent, all was quiet, nothing stirred . Frost was settling in the glens and fallow fields. Yowes and kye in the warmth of the sheds .Wild creatures like foxes stravaiged the night, along with badger, deer and other night travelers .Trees cast shadows deep and dark leaves beginning to tint and curl, berries turning orangy and red, fuel for winter. Flocks of birds like redwing ,fieldfare and waxwing forage and fill on the juicy harvest.
Suddenly across the sky there shot a streak of light .Fiery bright it shone as it hurtled towards the earth. Across the sea its light reflected on the waves. Towards the hills it flew arrow like, straight and true. Far in the distance it hit the frosty earth, causing an eruption of dazzling light, Filling the sky hiding all the stars. No one saw , no ear heard as this piece of the universe fell to the ground burying itself deep in the earth.
Within the ground to lie forgotten, waiting for the day to wake from sleep.
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He scratched his head in amazement as he looked at what he found .A rock was what it resembled, but with edges sharp as metal. Broke his wooden plough beyond repair how was he to plant the spring crop now. Despair filled his heart . He dug it from the ground took it to the druid, knowing within his heart he felt it was important. The local Druid looked at this strange find. He hummed and hawed as he tried to work out what it was and more importantly what it meant . The Druid by name of Mortlach sent the farmer away telling him that this would take time . Mortlach laid it on a table of old battered wood and on a whim lit no candles. Night drew on and quite unexpectedly the rock began to glow , slightly at first but as the dark drew on it shone more and more. Suddenly he wrapped it in a piece of cloth and staggering slightly as it seemed to have gotten heavier he took it to the smiths . Cruitne smiths were once renowned for their work ,so skillfull and delicate. Even weapons were considered workd of art. The smiths studied it for a while and deciding on its metallic nature decided to put the rock in a pot and hung it in a fierce burning fire. Men on either side worked bellows to build the fire up to it glowed white.
The fire raged white hot in the smiddy,s furnace sweat dripped off the workmens brow . It dripped on to the ground hissing as it came into contact with the heat filled ground. Eventualy the rock from the sky began to melt and liquified . When it was workable it was poured in to a mould which was shaped like a leaf, the distinct shape of a Cruithne sword. After it was cooled the shaped metallic like sword was taken out and then began the smiths magic. Hammers raised and fell with a clang on metal surface. Slowly it was shaped ,formed and hammered All of the smiths essence poured into its shape Until at the last he raised the sword in triumph. Its blade shone darkly and was light to the touch. Magical runes were etched into its blade. Spoken by Druids, by the smiths hand , on northern lands was it forged. In the lands of Cruithne the sword forever belonged, washed by the seas in a deep dark well, caressed by waves and the rising swell.
One who witnessed this auspicious event, raised their hood and silently went. Their heart full of sorrow ,back to the forests to meditate and think. Watching from afar how its destiny may unfold.
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