PUB CRAWL - In Which a Departed Sister is Fondly Remembered

[OakWyse]

In the dying light of a late November sun, three trees stood together beside the back door of the Foggy Duck, which was hanging losely by one hinge, the door, not the Duck. An old Oak, a rather flamboyant Holly, and a Silver Birch inexplicably sporting a pair of burgundy Prada pumps with gold military embroidery across the pointed toe, and 4" heels. The Holly stretched, and yawned noisily, dropping red berries all around. He opened one eye, blinked, then the other, then both. The Birch looked up from inspecting a run in her Falke Seidenglatt shears, with "mother-of-pearl" sheen (befitting a Silver Birch) topped by a 5.5" wide band of French lace, available from alex blake for only $25.00.

"Damn," said Beith, "There goes another pair."

"Your own fault," said Tinne, now awake. "I told you to lay off that third bottle of Fitheach Dubh."

Beith winced. "Third? Wait a minute, where's my . . . "

At that moment the back door of the Foggy Duck flew off its remaining hinge and Rancid came flying out into the yard, took a sharp left around Gladys' still, and screeched to a halt in front of the old Oak. There was the sound of a firehose being discharged against the wall of a brick building, and a loud canine sigh of relief.

Tinne chuckled at the sight and asked, "Do you think we should wake him up and tell him?"

Beith, still checking her ruined seams, said, "No, let the poor guy sleep it off. Besides, you know the old saying."

"Hair of the dog?" ventured Tinne.

Beith, who by now looked a lot more like a young Irish lass in a bright green satin gown with faux pearls gathered brooch-like in the center of a plunging neckline, holding her Pradas in one hand and her ruined Falke Seidenglatts in the other, than like a Silver Birch, asked, "You haven't got any aspirin, have you?"

Relieved, Rancid sniffed briefly at the roots of the Holly, gave Beith a sly look, and sauntered back into the pub.

[Dryadia2]

A 4th tree joined the group of 3...a stately Jeffrey Pine, which can be distinguished from other pines by the vanilla scent of it's bark. Chocolate was Dryadia's choice of scents, but since pines don't come in chocolate scent, the Jeffrey Pine became this dryad's chosen tree. The frolicsome tree nymph pranced over to the threesome, and after noticing a reeking 'Rancid' odor; Dryadia dribbled some nice fresh vanilla-scented pine pitch on the unfortunate Oak, to neutralize the smell.

"Much better", Dryadia sighed with relief, as Oak awoke with a start, wondering why he was feeling rather damp and sticky.

Just then a warm wind began to blow, and all turned to see an owl approaching, wearing a regal purple cloak...It was Alferian.

"Warm welcome my friends" Alferian began... "It is with great and heavy sadness that I pass on to you news of our own Piastra, also known as: Chalcedoni, Chalci, Carragh, Pepper, (and many other descriptive names); has passed away to the Summerlands."

"Piastra told me that Samhain was her spiritual birthday. Since the veil was thin, I hope she passed over easily." Dryadia solemnly added.

Beith respectfully chimed in: "I hope indeed wherever her soul is, she's swathed in crushed velvet of many colours, surrounded by ice-cream and "rubber ducky" cocktails and chocolate and laughing because she now knows what is beyond."

"We should have a Pub Crawl in her memory!" exclaimed Oak.

"...so that her eloquence and wit and her raucous humour will live on..." Beith added.

"Let us light a wickerman bonfire in remembrance of Piastra, for all her friends to gather around like moths to a flame." suggested Tinne.

And so it began...the telling of tales about Selchies, Dragons, Chocolate, and...

[CelticDao]

...and Alaskan tales of the wild life on a remote island.

From beneath a pile of leaves a curious old coot emerged..."And I even know the name her Auntie called her by!"...but that's for the telling after we tip a few. My...what am I doing here in a Kilt? Is it Candlemas? Well, while we're naming names, my seed-group brethern know me as BrightWind, just so you know.

[Ainevar]

Now a young wolf named Ainevar walks in to this mess wondering whats going on.

[wyeuro]

drawn by the scent of freshly cut timber, the murmur of voices and the rumour of chocolate and possibly interesting canapes in all sorts of mysterious shades of droolingly delicious, this wolf stood alone, listening, stiff and quivering, and occasionally succumbing to a little yelping whine (or was that wine) and... perhaps it was the ineffable allure of something rancidly reeking... he strained to hear and see more. having ascertained that there was no immediate danger, he was almost ready to take the plunge and pad tentatively forward when a sound behind him made him spin round in alarm.

a small dinosaur, shaped like a kangaroo with wings instead of arms, in a close-fitting gownless evening strap of glittering snakeskin hitched up its sack cloth loin cloth and sidled obsequiously up. it smiled gently, but said nothing. the wolf sniffed it suspiciously and then went back to hyping himself up to join the party.

"but it's not a party, it's a wake", said the old coot, brightwind, who could read anybody's mind in a flash. "and anyone can go, except of course, not dinosaurs, or anyway, not that sort - some sort of veloci-raptor, aren't you. can you turn into a tree?"

"no, but i do a reasonable impression of a kangaroo," replied the wyverne, for that's what it was, gentle reader!

so wolf, kangaroo and the old coot entered the sacred arena ensemble, where the wolf fell at once upon rancid's neck.

which was clumsy of him, but partly rancid's fault because what was he doing lying down slap bang in the middle of the path with his neck right where any wandering wolf would put his foot????

wyverne of wyeuro

[Donata]

A flash of lightening lit up the area where the friends were gathered about the fire...... with a whoooosh, Donata swooped down and parked her

"To the memory of Pepper, Piastra, Carragh, and Calci - a wise woman! May she find friends and cheer in the Summerlands!" said the as she held up a mug of "Blessings on this offering", and she poured a bit onto the fire, "and happy memories of our friend!" Donata passed her mug around the fire for all to offer and drink.

The circle of friends joined hands for a moment of silent remembrance. Then in honor of their departed friend, all drank deeply and toasted her,

"Chalci! Carragh! Piastra! Pepper! by these names and all others we honor you and remember you!"

They began a solemn dance around the fire.... as they danced the pace quickened and they began to laugh and sing and be merry! and they realized that this was the very best way to remember their friend!

[CelticDao]

As the group danced about, BrightWind stopped, and turned to the fire from the east and said "May the Hawk of the East bear you, Rita Maria Scott, my beloved Pepper, upon his pinions, and show you the love we bear for you", as tears streamed down his face.

[Willowhawk]

At that moment, a hawk's feather floated gracefully to the earth. BrightWind stooped and picked it up, stroking it wonderingly. As if on cue, a figure in a dark green cloak approached from the East, hesitated, then stepped toward the circle. BrightWind turned at the sound of footsteps. The newcomer pushed back her hood and offered him a small smile.

"I can't claim to have known Piastra terribly well," Willowhawk said quietly, "but she had such a presence in all the worlds. She was one of the first to greet me when I first came to the Pub and to the Grove. We kept Brighid's flame together, and I loved her. I wanted to come and make remembrance, that memory may lighten grief."

BrightWind regarded her for a long, thoughtful moment, then bowed and gestured toward the fire and the dancers. The revelers had paused to catch their breath and were taking long draughts from steaming mugs. Willow caught BrightWind's hand for a moment, squeezed it, then joined her friends around the fire. She accepted a quick hug and a hot drink from Dryadia, breathing in the scent of chocolate and cinnamon. She took a sip, warmed by more than the delicious drink. She was suddenly overcome by strong emotion-- grief and joy and sadness and love, all mixed up together-- and she sat on a fallen log to collect herself.

Peace be the journey, dear Piastra, Willow thought, smiling through her tears. You should be here to see this.

It seemed that a gentle voice returned, Peace and blessings of friendship to you, little sister, and to you all. Our fellowship endures beyond this world-- didn't you know?

Willow caught her breath, started-- then relaxed. Had she really heard Piastra's voice on the wind, in the rising flames? Or was it merely wishful thinking? It didn't really matter, she realised. Piastra-- Chalci-- Pepper-- lived on in the hearts of those who loved her. Wisewoman that she was, she knew that-- and now Willow knew too. The hedgewitch sipped her chocolate, then set down the mug. She unclasped her cloak's fastening and let it fall, then went to join the dance.

)O( /|\ )O(

[greymore]

The sleepy turtle stumbled over the crawling Jeffrey pine roots looking for a more comforting nest.
Someone had thoughtlessly stopped to empty the holding tank in their R.V. and the sludge oozed into the edge of the pond. The foul smelling ooze spread over Greymore's back and dripped into his open mouth as he snored in peaceful hibernation. YUK!!!!! He awoke choking and sputtering, gasping from the stink of chemically treated human waste.
Now he was headed up out and away as fast as fast can be for a sleepy turtle.
He stopped just as suddenly in the tangle of tree roots to listen to the singing. The strong smell of vanilla soothed him and he took notice of the gathering. Here were the Druids and they were paying tribute to one of their own. PIASTRA.
Memories overtook the aging turtle as he listened to the bards sing.
Quietly nestled in the comfort of the tree roots, he accepted the foaming cup of hot chocolate
offered to him by a gentle ovate and dwelt in the vastness of the circle of life and death.

[panther_tomorrow]

You silly angels

In thy nests

That will not wait for angels to rest

Pepper, Piastra, Carragh, and Calci

Doth need a 'few'!

As do I!

So take heart and fill thy bellys full

For heros come...

And heros go...

But whats that?! What doth aspire?!

To climb that ancient angel pyre?

Tis one heart and one mind!

That only ancient heros find.