The Coming of Finn

Chapter XI

The Salmon of Purpose

Rambling, jumbled thoughts danced through Finn's mind like leaves skipping on the wind. He could not make any single one pause and make sense. How long he sat dazedly, he could not say. Slowly, like a listing vessel righting itself, he felt his mind turn and begin to make focus of the whirlwind within. 

Who could be approaching; a man, a woman? Was he or she a druid or ruler, a sage? What would such a person be like? What had earned them the right of claim to the unearthly Salmon? Finn did not care that they would gain the elusive knowledge. That held little meaning to him. For an entire year, his and Fingal's special place with the salmon had been entirely unshared. The seclusion had been theirs' alone. Some stranger was arriving to shatter that intimacy.

It felt unfair. What had this stranger done to earn such a right? How could they walk in and take away what he and Fingal, each in their way, had come to love?

Finn looked at the old man.

Fingal's irascibility and anger in those early months took on a new meaning. How had it never occurred to Finn that the druid might have had conflicting feelings about Finn's uninvited arrival? The hermit had been utterly alone with the magical and wondrous salmon for seven years. Then, suddenly, a strange youth enters his world and stays. The boy's heart softened within him.

"I understand now, Fingal..." he thought silently.

Finn returned his gaze to the Salmon. For the first time, the unimaginable consideration of someone killing and eating of the Salmon of Knowledge threatened to become real. Instinctively, his mind pulled away. He shuddered, repulsed at the thought. Finn wasn't squeamish about death or, when necessary, killing. He'd hunted for food from the very earliest age. But this was different. These were in no sense ordinary fish. They were so pure to Finn's way of thinking it would be sacrilegious even to graze them with a mortal hand.

"How could anyone..?" he asked.

Finn flushed, embarrassed he had spoken the words aloud without intending to do so. He could feel Fingal's attention turn to him. "Kill one of these..?" Finn mumbled, his voice trailing off. The youth winced at his mistake. The reproach of his words judged not only whoever was coming to catch the Salmon but also the old man beside him, who had sought so desperately through the years to do that very thing.

But Fingal's reaction was unexpected. He wasn't angry or defensive. He looked at the youth as if Finn had just said the silliest thing imaginable. "Kill a Salmon of Knowledge?" he repeated in flat dismay. "Impossible!"

Finn's eyes widened. "But I----"

"You thought that to gain the knowledge of the Salmon; one must catch and eat of it? That much is true. But kill it? Never!" The old man bent slightly and studied Finn.

"Have you not understood, Deimne?" he asked quietly. "Have you not spent a year with them? These are not mere fish, lad! What you see before you –the shapes of these five creatures– are but momentary images, as it were, they have donned for us in Time, like a cloak or garment, a kind of convenience for our mortal minds, which are far too uninformed to grasp what we truly see. The Salmon of Knowledge are part of an ancient power, a link to another world entirely, Deimne. They pause here in our realm for what is, for them, but a twinkling in Time. They have come to this place for one purpose only; to fulfill a destiny.

"Look at them, lad! See how they watch us, how they wait? They are aware. They know their purpose, for they are Knowledge itself. That purpose will be fulfilled, of this, you can be sure. One of them will be caught and eaten. This is the way of things. It must be. In this way alone, as we humans understand it, will their purpose pass whole and alive into the mortal realm. It is not for death they have come, Deimne, but for life. This is the beginning. This is birth!"