~ Despite the trauma of the day, once he was on the cliff Jaden found it easy to put everything else out of his mind. The cool rock pressed under his hands and against his stomach and, as they climbed higher into the light, the sun's warmth on the back of his neck calmed him. Rock climbing was something the required his complete concentration and he was more than happy to give it. His burned hand throbbed, and a dull ache was beginning to settle into his shoulders, but it wasn't bad enough yet to detract from the experience as a whole.
After 15 minutes of steady climbing he heard Andrew below him begin to sing.
"O'er Coolin's face the night is creeping. The banshee's wail is round us sweeping; Blue eyes in Duin are dim with weeping, since thou art gone and ne'er returnest.
"No more, no more, no more returning; In peace nor in war is he returning; Till dawns the great day of doom and burning, MacCrimmon is home no more returning.
"The breeze of the bens is gently blowing; The brooks in the glens are softly flowing; Where boughs their darkest shades are throwing, birds mourn for thee who ne'er returnest."
Andrew's singing voice was smooth and strong, and it did the sad, ancient song justice. The words rang out across the rock, getting caught in the wind and carried here and there, giving them an ethereal quality the likes of which Jaden had never experienced before.
"Its dirges of woe the sea is sighing, the boat under sail unmov'd is lying; The voice of waves in sadness dying; Say, thou art away and ne'er returnest.
"No more, no more, no more returning; In peace nor in war is he returning; Till dawns the great day of doom and burning, MacCrimmon is home no more returning."
Even though Takyle continually paused to set anchors, she was a faster climber than Jaden and so was able to steadily maintain the distance between them. She was mindful of their limitations and chose the easier route over the slightly faster one more than once.
"We'll see no more MacCrimmon's returning. In peace nor in war is he returning. Till dawns the great day of woe and burning; For him, there's no more returning."
Twice when Jaden felt he had a firm handhold, he hazarded a look over his shoulder. The late morning sunlight spilled over the treetops on the foothills below, painting them yellow. Far away, beyond the hills a rolling plain began, stretching to the horizon. Clouds floated across the sun, casting huge shadows to race each over the tawny grasses. Jaden took a deep breath, and turned away from the gorgeous view to push upwards, ever higher. A warm wind ran down the rock face, eddying for a moment around him. It smelled damp and clean, and just a tiny bit salty. Jaden had never felt so alive.
"Sensation is deception," his mind reminded him.
"When sensation is this beautiful, I don't mind being deceived," he told his mind.
"No more, no more, no more returning; In peace nor in war is he returning; Till dawns the great day of doom and burning, MacCrimmon is home no more returning." ~
3 comments:
The song, MacCrimmon's Lament, is an old Scottish folk tune, thought to have been written in 1745 by Donald MacCrimmon's sister upon his departure and subsequent death in the last Jacobite Uprising.
I love the sight of clouds and their shadows passing over distant lands. You really captured the moment well.
Thank you. I also very much love watching shadows play over fields. Nothing quite like it.
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