LITTLEMAMM OF IONA PREVIEW

AND SO DUNNOTTAR gathers around the south fireplace.

Here then is the heart and the spirit of Dunnottar, at the roundhouse fire of an evening after a busy day of hard work.

Here do the sometimes boisterous, sometimes quiet, ending hours of the day bring all together.

Here, together, do the people of Dunnottar bring themselves for celebration, for comfort, for decision-making, for the enjoyment of one another’s company.

Here it is that they reinforce and reaffirm their family and their foundation.

It is here where choices are made;

It is here they learn of creation, life, death, eternity;

It is here that peace reigns;

It is here faith is as natural as breath;

It is here where healing begins;

It is here that hope takes root and grows strong and true;

It is here the love our people bear one another and all others is felt;

It is here, at the fire of the roundhouse, the unity of spirit shared by this small community, always powerful, is at its height.

Here, at this hearth, is the legacy of the SONG of the Trinity fulfilled.

Here, at this hearth, do the struggles, the sacrifices, the commitment of those who have gone on ahead bear fruit.

Here, at this hearth, is living proof that it has indeed all been worth it.

And so it is here, at this hearth, that the stories of people who have gone on ahead are told, their adventures related, their lessons passed on, their strength shared, their lives celebrated and honored.

Mamm takes her seat and waits as the group settles itself.

Alianora and Drustann take their accustomed seats near the fire opposite Mamm’s chair.

Thann fills the big chair once Danann’s while Dianann pulls her own chair close by it. Mamm smiles. The newlyweds seem to be taking to married life quite nicely and she gives herself a mental pat on the back.

Younglings scramble to fill Thann’s lap, hang on his legs, and settle on his feet.

Little red-headed Rua and dark-haired Dothann snuggle into their places within each of his elbows, Brann’s blond hair and the dark curly head of Corrbed thump together as they try to climb up onto the knees of his long legs. Giving it up after being surreptitiously kicked by Rua and Dothann, they settle for hanging their arms across his thighs. Merri and Diann sit themselves on his feet and lean back against his shins.

The man is literally covered with younglings.

All who see this smile and the man himself isn’t doing any complaining. He loves these younglings as though they were his own.

In many ways, they are his own. Although fathered and mothered by specific couples, the Younglings of Dunnottar are parented by all. Rua, Diann, and Corrbed are kin fosterlings but rarely does anyone think of them as such. They are, simply, a part of the group of younglings.

The arc between Mamm and Thann’s chairs is filled by double seats, which are filled by the small new families of Aine and Alann, Ostara and Talorc, with their infants Saorsa and Colum.

Another double seat holds Saille and Coll while a single seat serves Tinne. Her mate Nion has gone on a journey to Rome, as part of the local ‘escort’ for some persons unwelcome in this area.

TavishUllin leans against Mamm’s chair and stretches his very long legs across the floor in front of him to nudge the feet of Merri and Diann into making room for his much larger ones. They twink their eyes at him in good humor and move their feet out of his way.

All are settled and at long last the story can begin.

‘Where were we?’

Mamm’s question brings an immediate response.

The younglings answer as one, as though they’ve rehearsed this reply (which in truth they have, knowing the question would come).

‘Ethan and Mamm of Tarnos have just left LittleMamm of Iona at the dock of Iona and she’s crying onto the under-bed chest and you can still see those tears to this very day, in the wood.’

A patter of applause greets this prompt and accurate answer and the younglings give regal little nods in recognition of this small homage paid them.

‘Ah. Yes.’

     LittleMamm, now of Iona, sniffles a little as she watches the ship bear her parents away, to journey back to their Tarnos estate.

     As the ship finally disappears she straightens her small shoulders, raises her little chin, and firms her legs beneath her.

Tightening her grip on the under-bed storage chest she holds against her heart (which seems to beating all too quickly just now) she turns from the blue-green waters and looks across the meadows and rocks of Iona to the stark white of the roundhouse where her education has already begun.

TallUllin has been standing directly behind her and he now moves aside to watch this small girl pass. Sarr and Samm, the big redheaded twins, her cousins who have guarded her since her birth, fall in behind her. Having much experience with this cousin of theirs, they stick close to her sides.

The odd-looking triangle made by this little dark-haired girl flanked by her much larger bright-headed cousins has caused many a secret smile on Iona.

They smile, but are intensely grateful for the presence of the twins.

Without them, LittleMamm of Iona would have been lost many a time already – and she is only just beginning her training. Even with their full attention, she has managed to mis-place herself more often than one would expect.

And so Sarr and Samm stick close.

Often LittleMamm is annoyed by their attendance but on this day she welcomes it.

On this day the bulwark of their familiar strength and protection is something she can depend on to get her through. She slows a bit, wanting to feel them at her very back and they quickly step together behind her until their shoulders are touching.

Feeling and recognizing the warmth of them LittleMamm’s heart is eased a little and she continues on her way, walking perhaps a bit more steadily now.

Two red heads angle toward one another; two sets of brilliant green eyes glance off. They know their small cousin well – her pain and misery is all too clear to them. They would take it from her if they could but of course they can’t. She has never in all of her short life shared any of her burdens with anyone but carries them alone, deep within her. This they know; this they acknowledge; this they respect – but they’re not stupid enough to make mention of it.

LittleMamm, sensitive as always to the emotions of those around her, feels their concern. It warms her heart as their solid strength warms her back.

Shrugging the under-bed chest a little higher, she rests her chin on it as she moves through the roundhouse and into the doorway of her own very small home.

It has been prepared for her by her family and is attached to the large training roundhouse with a connecting door.

Through this doorway none can enter except her own small self.

This is her refuge from the bustle of busy Iona. In it are her own familiar things brought from Tarnos for her comfort. A cozy little den, it holds LittleMamm close as she steps to her bed, sets the oakwood carven chest on it and sits herself down beside it, still caressing the designs carved by her mother’s mother with small tender fingers.

Overwhelmed by the emotion of this day, LittleMamm lays her head down and weeps silent tears.

Gathering her old felted comforter filled with the down of geese hunted by her own father and stuffed into the case by her own mother, she bundles it to her, buries her face in it, and rocks herself to sleep.

She is alone now as she has never been alone before. Other ‘alone’ times were different; this one seems to her to be for always and the tears flow even in her sleep. She makes not a sound but within her the spirit of this little girl is loud in its pain and loneliness.

Outside the small doorway, her cousins pace silently the length and breadth of the roundhouse. They are not disturbed by any and so pace at will. Iona knows the meaning of this day, the effect it has on this their youngest and newest member, and has taken itself off in respect for the three cousins. Those three need one another right now, no other.

Yet Iona does not abandon them. Iona stands aside for this brief time only, praying for the cousins as they make their way through the maze of emotion that fills this day.

     TallUllin is doing some pacing of his own. Outside the main door of the roundhouse he is wearing a circle into the yard there.

     Pacing in one direction, then turning to pace the other way, he mutters under his breath the entire time.

     ‘What are we doing? She is too young for this. We can’t just take her from her family, she’ll die of loneliness. She’s not prepared for what lies ahead, I just know it. What have we done? She’s just a little girl, not even big enough for a horse of her own, so easily overlooked, she’s so little. How are we going to keep track of her? Before it seemed only temporary but now . . . this is an always step she’s taking, and us with her. Well thank God for the twins is all I can say. Even so, they can’t forever and a day be on guard duty. They have their own training to do, her alongside of them mostly but not ALWAYS. And they have to sleep SOME time. What are we going to do, how are we going to keep her safe and happy?’

     And so the circle in the yard deepens a bit with every turn that TallUllin takes around it, muttering and muttering, worrying and worrying, praying and praying.

     As with the cousins, Iona steps back also from this tall lean man who is their leader. For a time only does Iona stand aside, knowing the challenges his heart is throwing at him and praying for him as he prays for the three cousins who remain within the roundhouse – the dark-haired little girl and the two rapidly growing young redheaded warriors.

     The day passes and wanes.

     Into the restless sleep of LittleMamm come images of her family.

     Here is her mother, Mamm of Tarnos, with her blonde mane falling to her waist, smiling out of grass green eyes and holding out her arms to her daughter.

     Here is her father, Ethan of Tarnos, arm around the shoulders of his wife who is almost as tall as he is, dark curls waving about his own shoulders, dark eyes quiet with grief.

     Here are her grandparents, Danann and Mamm of Perth, now of the Fienne of Dunnottar. The bulk of him, thick bright red mane of hair blowing back from the wind in his face, ought to dwarf his wife – but the vibrancy of the woman who stands beside him matches his own, her golden hair flowing to mingle with his red. Her sky blue eyes, the ones LittleMamm has inherited, glow with a pride that borders on arrogance. Blue sparks seem to fly from them, flitting to mingle with the bright green ones from Danann’s eyes. The two of them stand just behind her parents, backing them with the strength of their years; the power they wield is tangible in the air around them.

     And there, beside her mother, stands her mother’s sister, Alianora of Perth. With her is her husband Forr; they are the parents of three sets of twin sons. It is from Alianora that LittleMamm has inherited her small stature. Lithe and compact, Alianora’s authority is in no way diminished – it radiates from her dark brown eyes and makes itself seen in the confidence of her stance. Forr’s lighter brown hair and lighter brown eyes emphasize rather than detract from the strength of his features. His bulk matches not that of Danann but is well-suited to his wife. The older sets of twins are much like him and stand with their parents, pride and satisfaction in their every nuance. Their younger brothers are with LittleMamm on Iona, the red-headed ones who so closely resemble Danann as he must have been in his young days.

To the other side of her parents, next to her father, stand the Warrior Twins Sass and Saille, now of the Fienne of Dunnottar. The flames dancing around their heads and torsos could be fire but are merely their hair, loose in the winds that surround them. Tall and fierce, they are the daughters of Danann and Mamm of Perth, now of the Fienne of Dunnottar. Born between fire and sword, they seem to have absorbed from birth the qualities of both. These are Warriors and they know well their task.

Into the sleep of LittleMamm comes the sound of galloping hooves as golden Ordha and tall red Rogue make their entrance. The pair rear, neigh, and paw the air. LittleMamm smiles in her sleep. These are the mounts of her parents. Their own set of twins has chosen her cousins and the pair is with them here on Iona. Ordha and Rogue remind her of this and her sleeping smile deepens.

Behind all looms the Sacred Yew, the Mother Tree, symbol of unity and eternity.

The resting of the girl becomes peaceful at these reminders that she will never ever be truly alone, and her breathing deepens with a quiet sigh.

The tears dry on her felted comforter and the dark head is still as small fingers relax their hold on the felt she holds close.

LittleMamm of Iona is sleeping gently and quietly in her own small home.

Something of her peace makes its way to her cousins and they too relax, sitting in comfort to either side of the small door they guard.

As the peace of the Mother Spirit fills the roundhouse and spills beyond it, TallUllin’s pacing outside the front door slows and at last comes to a halt.

A huge sigh of relief has his hands on his knees as he bends his tall body and lets the tension flow out of him.

Standing there with hands on knees, he relaxes so much that he almost falls over.

Seeing the stagger as he regains his balance, Iona runs en force to catch him and support him as he makes his way to a chair that sits next to the door of the roundhouse.

Once seated he finally looks about and notices the fairly deep circle now graven into the yard in front of his face.

‘When did that get there?’

‘You just made it your own self.’

‘I did not.’

‘You most certainly did.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘We’re sure.’

‘Well. If you’re sure.’

‘You did that just today. We watched you.’

‘Where has the day gone? Is this even still the same day? How long did that thing take me to make, anyway?’

‘Oh, today only. You were pacing pretty fast and hard.’

‘Has anyone been in to check on those younglings?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure they’re still in there?’

‘Pretty sure. Nobody has come out.’

‘This is LittleMamm we’re talking about here. Not seeing anyone come out doesn’t necessarily mean much. We’d better go make sure. My tush would be goose-graze if anything happened to that girl on this day of all days. Perth, Dunnottar, and Tarnos would all be looking to peg my hide onto their roundhouse walls to throw nasty things at. But we’d better have a look before I start running.’

The silence with which TallUllin and Iona enter the roundhouse turns out to be completely unnecessary.

The twins are out cold in front of LittleMamm’s door, their broadening and deepening shoulders braced against one another, heads supporting each the other. They’ve got that door completely blocked with their slumped bodies.

Realizing the red-headed pair isn’t likely to wake up any time soon, the group stops tip-toeing and walks more casually across the roundhouse floor, and around the central fires.

Relaxed now, they advance more quickly, anxious to confirm that LittleMamm is indeed in her small home.

Next thing you know they’re being advanced on.

The twins, from their sound sleep, have sprung to their feet in an instant, swords leaving sheaths in less than a heartbeat; they’re meeting the group faster than anyone can believe, in deadly silence and with blood in their four brilliantly green eyes.

Still not making a sound the group stops in their tracks, feet motionless on the floor and hands raised to the sides of heads palms out. It is the ancient sign of surrender.

Upon recognizing first the surrender and then the members of the group, the twins lower their swords but do not sheath them.

Nor do they step aside, holding their position between the group and the little door just in back of them, behind which their cousin sleeps. It’s been a long stressful day; Sarr and Samm are a little short on patience and the aggression of their stances make that clear as day to TallUllin.

Whispering, he asks, ‘Is she in there?’

The twins nod in unison.

Then their brows lower into identical expressions of thought. This is their cousin LittleMamm, remember.

Turning in tandem, they step quickly to the doorway, push the door open a crack, and peer in.

When they push the door wider open, the group holds their breath in alarm.

Is she not in there? Has she somehow gotten past her cousins again, and past the watching eyes of all of Iona?

The relaxing of the shoulders of the twins eases their minds. Were the little one not within, they would have already been out the front door of the roundhouse, tromping any who got in their way.

Gentle smiles are unexpected on the usually grimly businesslike faces of Samm and Sarr. They turn and motion TallUllin to join them.

Three sets of eyes see the under-bed chest still on the bed.

Three sets of eyes see the felted comforter still loosely held in the relaxed arms of the sleeping girl.

Three sets of eyes take note of the tear stains splotching the comforter where a small dark head rests on it.

And three sets of eyes glow with affection at the sight of the serene smile on the face of LittleMamm.

Backing away, the three give to one another nods and weak smiles of relief.

TallUllin leads his little Iona pack out of the roundhouse and the twins go back to sleep in front of the door leading to the small home of Mamm of Iona.

Dunnottar, in another roundhouse, at a different time and place, holds its peace, silent and meditative as our people reflect on the plight of the oh-so-young LittleMamm of Iona.

Rua breaks the silence with a quiet question.

‘Mamm? Is LittleMamm, the small girl this story tells of . . . is she your mother? You told us the under-bed oakwood chest was made by your mother’s mother’s mother – that’s Mamm of Perth, right? And Mamm of Tarnos would be your mother’s mother. So LittleMamm, she’s your mother?’

‘Well, not yet at this part of the story, Rua. But yes. Mamm of Iona was to become my mother.’

Merri speaks.                                                      

‘Does it seem funny, to have this story about your mother being a little girl? I can’t even imagine my mother ever being a little girl like Rua, or Diann, or myself – yet I know she must have been.’

Looking to Alianora, Merri grins.

‘Did you ever get yourself into trouble like we do, mother?’

Alianora grins back at her daughter.

‘I’m not telling.’

And the quiet of the roundhouse fills with the laughter of Dunnottar.

Suddenly above the laughter is heard the Calling of a Horn and the pounding of galloping horse hooves.

In a flash Dunnottar is filling fists with weapons and shields, strapping on others, and out the door they go, armed and ready for whatever news the horns and hooves are bringing.

From the observation tower at the neck where Dunnottar begins its connection to the mainland shouts can be heard.

‘Fire! Fire! Northwest burns!’