Fate/Curadh Beag

Chapter 18: Deirdre of Forced Sorrows

FATE/CURADH BEAG

"Little Champion"

Chapter 18: Deirdre of Forced Sorrows

AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those of you following along, I decided to take a break through October to get myself ready for NaNoWriMo this year, as it's pretty much the pattern by now. For some reason, FFNet's viewer stats and reviews are not working, so if you would like to leave a comment, I suggest going to my uploads on either Archive of Our Own or Wattpad. It's been going on for a few months now, and I don't know if FFNet has any plans on fixing it. Thanks for the continued support, everyone.

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Tucked away in the deepest reaches of southern Emain Macha, a lone hut stood within the withering autumn forest. Not a vibrant blade of green grass nor any hint of flowers grew around here. There were only the various colors of fallen leaves strewn all about on the dry earth, and those too would lose their hue once winter came around. The air was as chilly as the forest was dull, not just because of the change in seasons, but due to Ireland floating just a bit further northward than what it was normally accustomed to. It was a sad and lonely place that was deliberately removed from human civilization. Not many people would want to have any business with such a secluded abode, but today would be an exception to the norm.

A small hand balled into a fist and knocked on the door several times. About half a minute later, it creaked open to reveal the hut's lone occupant. It was an elderly woman whose heavy expression was framed by a thick fur hood and cloak embellished with Celtic designs. She struggled to amble about with her crooked cane, and it took some effort for her just to look up at whoever her visitor was.

"Hm... oh?" the old woman murmured, taken aback by the number of people standing at her door. In total, there were three children, a young man, and a grey horse. She stared at the purple-haired girl who knocked on her door and mumbled, "Prithee, may I help thee?"

"Are you Madam Leabharcham, former court poet for King Conchobhar?" Connla asked in an even tone.

"Aye. Doth thou hath business with a withered crone such as myself?"

"I apologize if we have disturbed you. However, we urgently need to speak with you."

Leabharcham closed her eyes and sighed. She had a strong suspicion as to what the topic of discussion would be. Her weary heart felt even greater pain as she attempted to turn away, while grumbling, "I cannot be of any assistance. I wish only but to live mine final days in solitude. Leave me at once."

Before she could shut the door on them, the man suddenly said, "Please wait. I understand how difficult this must be for you, but we desperately need your help, Madam."

"... Huh?" the old woman paused, as she immediately recognized his voice. Her sagging eyes widened with shock when she took a closer look at the man and realized who he was. Her jaw dropped a bit as she uttered, "By the gods... Do mine eyes deceive me? Art thou... Naoise?"

"Yes, Madam. I am the man who took Deirdre's hand in marriage."

"How? How is this possible? Why doth thou walk the earth once more? Did Eogan mac Durthacht not slay thee and thine brothers?"

"He did. For all intents and purposes, I should be dead. However, due to the turbulent nature of this world, I have been granted the ability to return to the realm of the living as a being called a Servant."

"A... Servant, thou says?"

"Yes. Think of me as a temporary entity catered to protect humanity from all manners of threats. Right now, my sworn mission is to end the tragedies surrounding these lands. Deirdre continues to suffer even after her death, and I have vowed to bring peace to her, no matter what it may take. These children are accompanying me on my quest. Do you still wish to refuse hospitality for us?"