The Coming of Finn

Chapter X

Final Days

One year later. It was a quiet morning, unhurried and thoughtful. A bright sun warmed Finn's back as he bent to the spring and began to wash the dishes and implements from his breakfast. As was his habit, Fingal had arisen long before dawn (Finn sometimes wondered if the old man slept at all), eaten, and disappeared into the forest. He would not return until late afternoon if he followed his usual course. Together, they would make supper from roots and herbs the hermit collected, vegetables from the garden, and anything Finn might happen to snare in the day's hunt. 

Raising his hand to shield his eyes, Finn squinted up at the sun, newly glimpsing through the trees. The early calls of the forest, so recently echoing and lonely, were now building into the busy chatter of a full day. A butterfly winged its way, tripping and light, about Finn's head before passing on into the dense green.

It promised to be a peaceful day.

He'd been wrestling with his choice for some time. When Finn mused about it, considering the decision he had come to, it was surprising that the day should seem peaceful.

Late the previous evening, he decided this would be his last day with Fingal.

It was time to go.

He'd been here a year to the day and hungered to be on his way. First, he would have his daily visit to the Salmon. He had yet to tell the druid; he would save that for later. He wanted nothing to ruin that time.

The Salmon.

Finn felt the familiar stab of sorrow in his chest.

Living with the old hermit had been challenging. Even now, Finn found it hard to imagine a more trying, eccentric, and belligerent mule of a human being than Fingal the Mouse. In the first few months, they sometimes went days barely speaking a word to one another, seemingly only if the druid had something to complain about. The Son of Cumhal picked up a wooden spoon from among those lying on the rock beside him.

"Spotlessly clean."

That was the very phrase that ignited their first full-on argument. Despite his personal dishevelment, Fingal was fanatic about the cleanliness and tidiness of his home. Although Finn was quite neat as a rule (Bodhmall and Liath had often praised him for such), with Fingal, orderliness took on an entirely new and extreme meaning. They struggled for weeks over the hermit's exaggerated house rules, with the old druid constantly picking at how Finn cleaned the dishes, made his bed, or tidied the hut. Finally, Finn realized that arguing with the old man was useless. The hermit had seemingly lost all sense of reason long ago. Many was the night Finn fell asleep swearing to himself he would be gone with the dawn, that he could not possibly abide another instant of life with the vexing hermit. Yet, morning would come again, and somehow, he remained.

Not that Finn hadn't eventually, in his way, grown somewhat fond of the old druid. The youth looked admiringly at the wooden spoon in his hand. He recalled how patiently the old man had carved it for him the day after Finn's arrival. He remembered the curl of shavings peeling gracefully with each stroke of his knife. Fingal had shown such care as he tenderly smoothed and polished it, rubbing it with oils until it shined with a deep luster. A year later, though nicked and dulled with much use, it was always instantly comfortable in Finn's grip. Placing it with the others on the stone, the youth sighed and bent to pick up all the 'now spotlessly clean' dishes and carry them to the hut.

Once Finn had learned to tolerate (if not fully accept) the old hermit's eccentricities, they eventually found their way to a wordlessly negotiated peace. In his way, Fingal proved an amiable enough companion. The druid was a master storyteller with a seemingly endless wealth of tales from ancient times. He not only wove into his storytelling the rhythmic cadence and intonations of an accomplished bard, but he always revealed to Finn the veiled gems of wisdom and teaching insights hidden within the tales. Finn had come to respect the wealth of the old hermit's knowledge. He understood now why the curious druid, however trying in some respects, had once been welcomed in the highest halls of the land.