Lochlainneach

A Nighean Brèagha

Featured Gaelic and Pronunciations:

- Eòghann (yew-wehn) - Gaelic form of Ewan

- A sheanair (ah hehn-eth) - grandfather

- Ìosa Crìost aig Màiri (ee-uh-suh kree-uhst ayg mah-ree) - Jesus Christ of Mary

- Mo uan (moh oo-ahn) - my lamb

- Na bith a' gul (nah bee ah gahl) - don't cry

- Lochlainneach (lohk-lay-nehk) - Viking

- Tha e meadhan oidhche (hah ey mee-ahn oyh-yeh) - it is midnight

- Tha i cho brèagha (hah ee hoh bree-ah) - She is so pretty

- Brèagha (bree-ah) - pretty

*Features lyrics from 'Samhain' by Jaiya

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29 October, 1746

In the courtyard was a fresh water well - where exactly it came from, I couldn't say, but it was useful to have and I made frequent trips there for fresh water to boil in the surgery. It didn't help that I was now at least eight months pregnant, possibly almost nine, and the buckets grew heavier and heavier. "Let me carry that, Mistress!" said a young male voice from across the courtyard, and I glanced up to find a young man who I knew to be Eòghann Levy running across the courtyard to meet me at the well. "My mother says a woman shouldna be carryin' heavy things when she's as swollen with child as you are."

"Yer mother's an admirable woman," I replied, allowing Mr. Levy to carry the bucket for me.

"This is heavy! What does a lass need all this water fer?" Mr. Levy asked me.

"The surgery. I boil my instruments and it keeps them clean," I replied to him. "Helps te keep the infection away."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Mr. Levy said with interest. "Where did ye learn such a thing?"

"Er... I spent some time in Paris. I learned a lot of my trade there," I told him, not meeting his eyes.

"Ah, a verra eccentric people, the French. I spent some time there as a mercenary a few years back," said Mr. Levy, causing me to stop in my tracks.

"Did ye? When?" I asked him with interest.

"Oh, I think it was back in... '40? '39? I dinnae recall exactly. I received a nasty blow te the head and never was the same again," said Mr. Levy with a chuckle.

"Did ye ever ken any Frasers?" I asked him. "My... my husband was a mercenary in France, too, around that time... He was James Fraser. He had red hair, blue eyes, stood actually verra tall..."

"James Fraser, hmm..." said Mr. Levy, thinking for a moment. "Ye ken, the name actually does sound familiar... Was he ever associated with... a Murray?"

"Ian Murray? Aye, he was! They were there together! Ian lost his-"

"His leg! Aye, we do ken the same man!" Mr. Levy exclaimed. "I didnae ken him long, only in the field hospital at one of the battles. Fraser was there with him, though, a few times. No' injured but visitin' his friend." He gave a soft smile, then cleared his throat. "I, er... I wanted te ask ye somethin', Mistress..."

"Oh, aye? Go ahead, then," I told him, waiting for his response.

"Ye've a wee laddie, and another bairn on the way... If ye'll have me... I'd like te marry ye, so ye'll have a man te provide fer ye," said Mr. Levy, and for a moment, I just stared at him, shock written all over my face. Did he just ask me to marry him? I barely even knew the bastard, save for his name and the few times he'd come into the surgery, and he wanted me to marry him? "Mistress?"