Gormglaith | Page 2

leaned her willowy frame
against an elm trunk in the green henge shade as a million leaves wept
to the sly gab of yodeling magpies.
Popinjay eyes brimmed as freckles stormed 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