Kindred Spirit Lodge Presents
Gifts
by Tris
March 30th, 2002
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Small hands lifted the little oak box, a gift from Nessa. A kind of soft flowing graced the movements of the young wench who held it. Tris sat in the large chair by the window. It was her favorite place to sit, sometimes with a heap of silk or linen in her lap, while fingers sewed bolts of cloth into clothing for the Kindred. Sometimes she sat with an empty lap, gazing out the large window of this, her very own room.
There were still times, even after all these months, that Tris thought perhaps she was dreaming or that the Goddess was playing a hideous joke. She thought she might wake one morning to see her hands fettered to a splintery post in a filthy barn after a night of wretched stinking men plundered her body, hour after hellish hour.
But instead, the young Tris woke up in a big downy bed, in a room she had grown to love, in the Lodge where she found family. She lifted the carved lid from the box. A sweet odor of rose wafted up. There was the yellow rosebud Klancy the Courtly Warrior pressed into her hand on the night she welcomed Tris to the Kindred. Klancy called her "little sister" a treasured memory. It meant that she would always have family here among the Kindred.
Tris hooked a small finger through a loop of gold. It was an earring given to her in token of true sisterhood by her beloved Killian. Tears filled her hazel eyes. What miracle of the Great Mother brought such favor she wondered? Killian shared her soul. They came from the same spark out there somewhere.
Curled at the bottom of the gift box was a tiny braided lock of hair. It shone sleek and black, filled with the lavender odor of the Gentle Warrior. Tris' heart swelled at the thought of the loving Lady Alison. She was the one who gave the gift of slow gentle loving that brought Tris to an explosion of delight.
The lass turned the lid of the box in her hand. Nessa carved the symbol for Tris' name there. Great sobs heaved from her as she thought of the Celt. This was the one who gave her name. She had no identity before. They called her pig or cunt or fuck toy. No one named her. She was dragged about the world for eighteen winters without a name. Nothing in that short hard history prepared her for Nessa. Nessa came like a burst of flame to purify and torch the past like a funeral pyre, sending an old life to the gods.
She was suddenly known as a person. She cared little about the spiritual meaning that the Celt attached to the name Trisdekken. But she cared very much for what it meant to her to own it. She was real. She existed. Fresh tears fell.
Nessa's intense gray eyes frightened her until she saw the not so well hidden kindness in them. She missed waking up with the warrior. She missed looking after the warrior. She missed the moody ups and downs, the sex and the laughter of the warrior. She missed the warrior.
A knock on the big door bolted Tris out of her thoughts. She pulled a scarf from her belt and wiped her eyes as she made her way to answer. Tris stepped back when she saw the very loved ones she was thinking of standing in the doorway, all but Nessa.
Klancy smiled down kindly and walked into the room. It was more than her height that gave her the right to claim courtliness. She was a stunning figure of warrior strength and goodness. Killian and Lady Alison followed her.
Tris was confused. "I.. love to see you but... why? I mean... "
Klancy raised a hand to quiet the lass. "Nessa is on a journey lass. She has asked us to tell you that she will be back... hopefully within reasonable time." The warrior sighed. "She had to help her friend Shasa." Shocking blue eyes took on a surprising softness. "Nessa has given us all the pleasure of seeing to it that you are cared for until she returns."
Killian pulled Tris into her arms and held her. "You have been thinking about the damn foolish twit haven't you Tris?"
Tris began wailing into the shoulder of her friend. Alison stepped up and wrapped her arms around them both. "She'll be back Tris... she'll be back. I'll go after her myself if she is gone too long." The Gentle Warrior promised.
Klancy stood beside the wrapped bundle of sobbing women. She put a huge hand on the young wench's head gently. "Oh and Ally won't be alone in that little sister. One way or the other, Nessa will be coming home to you lass."
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The End - 'Gifts' - by Tris