Gormglaith | Page 2

under her shock of maple red hair. A dark pine cotton cutty sark fluttered open at the waist of black linen longstockings pulled high over ribs clutching like clarsachs. Kicking rough bark with the big bighty heels of clunky black wooden klompen, Findabair gazed at another tall, bony girl clad alikely in ash and grey, her cheeks a watchet glow behind chin length straw blond thatch.
"Thou made'st a bee streak for the school."
Wind blew hair across their faces. Neither shoved it back.
"Elowen showed up and thou wast the swot little helper all after, fixing brownies for Harvest Home since they take four nights to brew and thou smellst like one."
"Thorpe cabbage!" Findabair threw back with a wraithen smile.
"Tell me when I swoon."
"Hold on a tick, ok? How's Devon?"
A blond eyebrow hovered and from side pocket came a sparkling prism splaying a rainbow. Findabair leaned in for a closer look.
"...Dinky!"
Findabair raised her chin, tongue flicking blithely. Mouths latched as they pulled close in fad and fumble beneath flapping cutty sarks. A wide grin peeked from behind windblown straw thatch.
"Dost thou think my colours are true, Gormglaith?"
"Rather."
Findabair drew a breath.
"Ever since Gweneth ran off to Blairie, I've been thinking. I mean we both know swans like us should be scootin' onto the lake of life. We need to put our heads together, plight, bone up and get a cool flat in Kin Dails... like maybe something on Coo rood, off Yew lane near all the lekker lass haunts..."
Thatch tilted.
"Thou didstn't."
Findabair made a dimpled grin.
"Fuck! Thou didst! Ok, let me guess. She told thee, 'Th'art clueless my bat, now let me show thee how I skive the cane.'"
"Gasping, Gormglaith..."
"Thou ranst the same dodgy scam on me last week when we made chocolate blizzard shortbread!"
"Aye 'n it spun di'nit."
"Not! Anyway I guess there's no need to keep on about it."
"Uhm, maybe there is."
"...What am I missing here?"
"What's left of the tale. I mean, I know I'm no Gillian Goblyn or anything so I thought she didn't give a luzz, handed her the cane jar and dropped the gab like a hot potato. Then later, as I was leaving, she let slip we might be rather keen about getting the nod from all our kynn to even talk about it, this being such a stern little thorpe and she being so too herself... stern, that is. I was gobsmacked, but like they say," Findabair put with a nod, "sometimes, all thou hast to do is ask."
Gormglaith gaped with a chary stare.
"Findabair Pane if thou thinkst we're going to get stark with Elowen Ynseyder under the elms of Elmhenge in front of kynn 'n kin and a gooey clutch to plight my life away in the most wanton setup..."
"I knew thou'dst see the dreamy side, Gormglaith."
Findabair shrugged in her fazy way. Gormglaith gazed at freckled face and loopy smile as the magpies gossiped high in soaring wych elms rushing on the wind.
"Ok, I'll think about it."
"Thou wilt?" asked Findabair, so startled she stumbled.
"I'll think about it..." echoed Gormglaith, big black wooden klompen rooted flat on the ground.
"...Maybe."
"Seal it with a kiss."
"No."
"Huh?!"
"Steal it with a kiss, thou meanst! No way!"
"No pog," said Findabair, nodding steadfastly, arms loose at her sides.
Gormglaith answered with searing eyes.
"Twixies!"
Findabair's hair flew as her head popped up with shining popinjay eyes and a wraithen smile.
"Twixies!"
Gormglaith looked off as Findabair put dry hands on a waist sharply bladed by hip bones floating over buoyant thews in grey linen. Her eyes flit open when Gormglaith pogged back and tongues twined, pelvises rubbing to a keen beat whilst beyond the elms flaxen fields surged against misty hills and a waxing moon rose amid white puffy clouds hurrying across a sky deepening to starry cobalt.
Gormglaith made an odd face and dashed off on the elm boughed path, open cutty sark flying by the breeze. At about fifty yards she stopped hard, spun about and with hand over head, waved at Findabair who waved back and shouted,
"Midnight! Lea Cairn!"
Gormglaith nodded, twirled and ran as Findabair wandered along the grass path, whistling with magpies in a cool gathering dusk.
Six minutes and a dozen furlongs later Gormglaith came to an airy house of weathered chalk limestone near a bend in the sled lane amid uncut, windswept mead grass and leafy elms. She strode through the doors of Bryn Larach, tousled the white haired head of her naked and casperish little sister Gobnait who was in busy gab with a hovering goblin toonishly cast like a big, yellow, black striped honeybee and yelled,
"I'm home!"
"Hi Gormglaith!" came a chirpy greeting from the kitchen.
"Hi Giorsal. Where's Geileis?"
"They're here somewhere... I think!"
"They?"
"Here I am!"
By a narrow doorway Geileis Grendel Hafgan Halsen stood swathed in dark shadows, orange sunset flooding behind her. Six feet tall with a lank frame bearing wrinkled grey longstockings pulled up