Ailis, Part 1

Chapter 6: Ailis, Part 1

Aye! That hurt!" a girl all of thirteen shouted as a small branch sized to match a sword's length fell at her feet. She rubbed her arm where a red mark now blushed from the harsh contact.

A young man, tall with straight brown hair jogged to her. "Ah, I hurt ye? Ailis, ye should focus your attention when I throw," he scolded, "instead of looking away from the fight! Never let your mind wander when you're in danger!"

"I didn't know ye threw it." Her voice lowered as she realized she was wrong.

"That's exactly the problem. Watch. Your. Enemy." He bent to pick up the branch and sighed as he thrust it forward.

Ailis slowly took the branch from her brother and nodded in response instead of speaking for fear the tone in her voice would prove disrespectful.

"Domhnall!" a deep but kind voice sounded a ways off.

Ailis looked over her shoulder to see the figure of their masculine father. He stood unusually tall, and though she couldn't see clearly from a distance, she knew gentle brown eyes were beaming in her direction. Standing near the cluster of his fellow noble and proud Celtic clansmen, who were also taking advantage of the pleasant weather, he waved once before one of them claimed his attention.

"Father calls, let's go." Domhnall gave her a smile and lightly pinched her cheek as he walked away.

Ailis turned and followed behind, swinging the branch haphazardly around her but careful not to drop it. Though she loved her brother, Ailis no longer enjoyed his playful pinching habits. With one hand, she touched the skin he had pinched and ran her fingers down her jawline before dropping her arm at her side as she walked. Since she was a wee babe, the pinches were a show of his brotherly affection. When her cheeks were plump, practically asking for a pinch, this was expected. Now growing into a woman, her cheeks softly curved around her face, a pinch could be painful. But as she aged, somehow Domhnall knew when to lighten his grip, and got it just right every time. Still, she involuntarily flinched on occasion.

Crunching her feet on the grass, she kept slower than the quick pace of her brother, who now met with their father and then exchanged a glint of concern between them when their eyes met. As she drew near, she noticed the people busying about. It made her miss the quiet lull the early morning brought with it, that would only dissipate with the rise of the clan. Her father and brother would daily take turns teaching her how to fight for as long as she could remember. While everyone else slept, she acquired the skills to defend her people.

Training in the mornings, often before the sun peeked over the horizon, were her favorite hours of the day. Ailis knew it was special that she had not only the chief as her father but also her brother who would take his place one day. Both would keep teaching her everything they knew as she grew. She had no place with most of the women in her clan. All knew how to hold their own and fight, but most kept their strengths outside of weaponry and fighting skill. Other girls the same age as Ailis had mothers or sisters. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and she never knew the warmth of a mother's bond with her daughter. Instead, Ailis only clung to her loving father, who was a warrior and leader, yet gentle and nurturing.

Ailis' brown eyes held her father and Domhnall in them. These men were her protectors, and she longed to grow up to stand proudly beside them. Her ideals of honor and loyalty were indeed learned, but she believed in them with all of her heart. She waited patiently at a few steps distance for them to finish their mumbled talks. It was clear to her they didn't want to be heard, but she tried to listen as she pretended to only focus her gaze on the woods surrounding her village. Some stood up close, only leading far away so that there was open land on that side of the village. The wind kicked up and blew the now noisy leaves on the trees.

When the two finished exchanging words and Domhnall continued on, Father turned her way, and his face lit up. "Ah, my beautiful Ailis!" He patted between her shoulder blades, startling her from her daze. The weight of his heavy hand caused her to compensate by leaning forward in an effort not to stumble.

"Ye called, Father?" she asked, noticing that the shadow of concern had lifted from his face.

"Your brother's wedding is today, go and ready yourself for the festivities," he said, smiling brightly.

Ailis frowned. "Why can't I keep these clothes on?" she gestured down her frame.

"Your beauty is unmatched. Ye should wear something to show ye are a young woman now. Not training to be a warrior."

"What shows that?" she asked, genuinely confused.

Father blinked a few times before looking around to find an example. "Aha!" He whirled and grabbed the arm of one of the passing women behind him. "Would ye please take my Ailis and show her how to dress like her mother? It's high time she learns."

Ailis was puzzled as to what dressing like her mother would look like, as she died giving birth to her. She never knew what she looked like, let alone how she dressed.

The woman Ailis’ father volunteered wasn't quite old enough to be her mother, but old enough to look upon her in that capacity. She looked over Ailis briefly and smiled. "Aye, chief. Come with me, lass. I'll get ye ready for your brother's day." She reached out her hand.

Ailis took in Father's happy but stern appearance and sighed as she placed her hand in the woman's grasp. Whisked away from her father, she was lead to a small home where she was forced to try on a few different dresses not practically made for fighting women, but all were well-made and pleasant to the eye. Once one seemed to fit her just right, she wasn't forced to continue. She stood reluctantly as the woman surveyed her work.

"Aye, that'll do just fine," she remarked with a pleased voice.

"May I go to my father now?" Ailis was eager to be done with this womanly exercise.

A sigh had escaped the woman's mouth before she said, "Go then, lass." She twirled Ailis by the shoulders towards the entrance and gave her a gentle shove out.

Ailis scooted out and stopped abruptly to adjust the new alien clothing before finding her father and tugging on his arm. "Look!" She smiled.

The chief, startled at first by his daughter's sudden approach, looked down and his eyes grew wide. Ailis watched him happily but became concerned when the look in his eyes changed from surprise to sadness. Though his mouth curved into a small smile, mostly hidden by his beard's protruding whiskers, his bright eyes glazed over.

"Ye look like . . ." he trailed off as he mentally went somewhere else. A memory, perhaps?

"Father?" she practically whispered, as though if she spoke louder the sound of her voice would damage him.

Then from her words, to rid himself of the trance, he shook his head and his eyes connected with the smile on his lips. He seemed to brace himself as he looked at her, steadying his emotions.

Ailis knew where the sadness came from; it was a familiar look Father would have from time to time. The agony of living without her mother was forever a scar on his soul, but he remained outwardly strong in the face of it. As she had grown from infancy, Ailis hadn’t seen the look of sadness he gave as often, except for when he was overtly reminded of his loss. Seeing her dressed as a lady must have made her unexpectedly look too much like her mother for him to be caught unawares, such as he was. Though Father loved Domhnall as a father should love his son, with pride and adoration in his fetes of honor, and apart from his love for their clan, she knew she was the main reason he didn't fall completely to pieces.

"Ah, my Ailis," he finally said. "Ye look lovely!" Ailis found herself swung in a circle, wrapped in her father's arms. He was laughing now, which freed her from her worries every time she heard the sound of it. His rumbling voice was pleasant to listen to as the side of her head pressed against his chest. The warmth of his clothing comforted her.

Setting her down now, the grass crunching under her feet, he grabbed her face with both of his large manly hands and brought his face close to hers. With a quick kiss on the forehead, he pulled back slightly to take in the view.

"What is it?" she asked, curious why he was so emotional today.

He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs, their roughness scratching against Ailis' weathered but still baby-like soft skin. "Have ye forgotten? Domhnall will marry today," he replied, surprise in his voice.

"Aye, I know. So?" she said, irritated.

"So, that's not reason enough to be happy?"

"But it has nothing to do with me," she whined.

"Seeing your brother marry means he's grown up. Which reminds me of when ye will wed some lad I have yet to decide on. And then when I see ye dressing like a lady, instead of dressing like a warrior, I'm overwhelmed with joy!"

Ailis wondered how much longer this nostalgic and sentimental behavior would go on.

He seemed frustrated. "Don't ye understand?" he asked.

Ailis nodded but wished to have the full use of her head mobility back.

Once released, Ailis left her father's presence and went to help with any last-minute work around the village before the ceremony.