Oisin and the Power of Herbs, (A Blog Writers Original).
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Hey
there Earthlings, Alternatives and Trollers. Put down that mouse and
lend an ear. Welcome to The Bandersnatch blog where we talk weird,
wacky and wondrous. I'm Mama Ogre and I have no idea what I'm doing.
In
these trying times, I hope you are sharing the day with the people
you love no matter who you are or wherever you are and keeping in
touch with those you can't.
As
you should know Fridays is Funday blog day were we talk anything and
everything and pretty much run with it. Today's blog is on a third
short story of mine; Oisin and the power of herbs.
I
preface this story with the fact that there are several folk-tales of
Oisin and his family the MacCumhail's (including his dad Fionn). This
is my version of a Oisin story I heard in passing, I hope you my dear
readers enjoy it and I hope I've done the spirit of Oisin justice.
Oisin
and the Power of Herbs.
Oisin
sighed and stretched as he reached the woodland path. His adventures
across Tir-Na-Nog were beginning to become known, Popular even. Some
doubted his abilities, others laughed but Oisin was grateful that
Niamh brought him here. To the woods of Tir-Na-Nog. Oisin smiled as
he thought of his faerie wife, her smiling blue eyes and shimmering
golden hair. He couldn't wait to get back to her and their unborn
child. What sex would the child be? Who would that child take after?
Oisin knew Niamh wanted a dark haired son who mirrored his brown eyed
image. Oisin privately wanted a Blonde haired girl with brown eyes
who looked like her mother otherwise Oisin just wanted a child who
was happy and healthy so it didn't really matter if they were a boy
or girl. Oisin was distracted from his thoughts by an unusual
grunting noise not far ahead. He drew his sword and slid behind a
tree to hide, keeping an eye out on the road ahead. Out of the tree
line stomped the ugliest giant Oisin had seen only once before; The
Formorian. With small leering black eyes peering out of an almost
piggish face with short greasy black hair and next to no hygiene; The
Formorian stomped down the path Oisin was just on and vanished from
sight.
Oisin
released the breath he didn't know he was holding. He frowned
thoughtfully, Formorians in general didn't venture that far from
their camps unless heading to war or heading to better feeding
grounds. Some were even known to occasionally build defences around
what they called theirs. Oisin slid back onto the path without a
second thought and walked in the direction the Formorian came from
sheathing his sword. Oisin followed the tell tale signs of giant
damage north for a surprising two hours and several miles. Oisin
noted landmarks he recognised and knew if the Formorian had his camp
twelve miles west there would be news of three destroyed villages.
Oisin peered around a rock formation covered in moss and his jaw
dropped open. Spreading out before him was the Formorians campsite. A
haphazard wooden house built into the roots of a large oak tree. The
smouldering remains of a campfire burned off to one side. Bones and
rotting animal carcases sat not far behind it. But what caught Oisins
eye was sitting by a rock. A chained up, rather beaten and bruised
form of a young woman.
darted forwards stealthily, even though you could hear and smell
Formorian before you could see them, they could still be nasty. And
now Oisin was in its territory which made him the one in the wrong.
Oisin knelt before the young woman as she looked up in surprise.
"My
Lady" He said softly "Don't be afraid, I've come to help"
"You
can't be here" The young Fae hissed in surprise. Oisin
recognised her race "The Formorian would kill you when he
returns the chains are charmed by his magic"
tried several different things to remove the chains and release her
as the noises of The Formorian reached his ears faintly.
"The
Formorian is still away I won't leave you in this place any longer"
Oisin said pulling out his sword as the noise of the Formorian echoed
in the distance getting louder
"What's
your name?" The Fae asked curiously as Oisin attacked the rocks
holding the chains
"Oisin
MacCumhaill" Oisin replied "and yours?"
"Plor-na-Mban"
she replied as the chains were loosened enough so she could move
comfortably and the Formorian grew louder and closer.
"Well
Plor-Na-Mban" Oisin began "I'm not leaving until you are
free"
"Puny
man" came the voice of The Formorian who appeared at the
entrance to his campsite holding a bloodied corpse of a large goat.
The giant dropped the goat and pulled out an old and well used sword.
Oisin wheeled around with his sword in his hands and taking a
defensive stance.
"Formorian"
He said loudly before he launched himself into the fight.
The
two fought until nightfall and Oisin fell before Plor-Na-Mban beaten,
bruised and bleeding. The Formorian soon lost interest gathered up
the dead goat cooked it and went into his house. Not long afterwards
snoring echoed alongside the cackling fire around the moonlight
covered camp.
“Here"
Plor-Na-Mban said softly tending to Oisins wounds with unusual
looking herbs.
"Thank
you" Oisin said after a while as the pain subsided "How do
you do those spells with herbs?"
"Fae
secret" Plor-Na-Mban replied with a smile and a waggle of her
fingers "They grow by these rocks these chains don't let me go
that far"
"They
don't look comfortable either" Oisin noted a bit more clear
headed.
"Sleep
Oisin MacCumhaill" Plor-Na-Mban crooned softly "The
Formorian will try again on the morrow" Oisin fell into a
healing sleep.
As
Oisin drifted off one of Plor-Na-Mbans eight chains disintegrated and
a thought came to her. If she kept Oisin alive for another few days
she would be free. The next day Oisin and the Formorian battled again
to the point of Oisins collapse at dusk. Plor-Na-Mban would heal him
again overnight with healing herbs, swiped food and healing sleep.
The circle would begin again with another disintegrating chain. Three
days later Oisin noted the lack of chains and played along with
Plor-Na-Mbans plan. Two days later something came to Oisins mind
"Which
herbs are you using?" Oisin asked interested in watching the
young woman work. Knowing not all the herbs she was using grew around
here
"Lavender
for relaxation, All spice for healing and Feverfew for health"
she replied almost instantaneously focused almost all of her
attention on what she was doing. "They have other properties as
well I believe the herbs are helping you with the Formorian"
Oisin
smiled as Plor-Na-Mban finished tending to his wounds
"Sleep"
She ordered quietly with a raised eyebrow
Oisin
nodded and drifted off to sleep. The seventh chain that was attached
to her neck crumbled away leaving the final one around her waist to
be dealt with. Plor-Na-Mban shivered slightly. She was so close to
being free, but it could go ever so wrong. The Formorian could still
kill Oisin on the morrow and the chains would return tighter and more
restrictive. Plor-Na-Mban curled up within a small crook in the rocks
that chained her and fell asleep. Both Oisin and Plor-Na-Mban rose
with the early morning sun. Oisin to prepare for the final battle
with the Formorian and Plor-Na-Mban wanted to set herself up for the
both a win or defeat on either side. Oisin raised an eyebrow at her
preparations.
"Do
you not trust I'd Win?" Oisin asked seriously.
"I'm
preparing for all outcomes MacCumhaill" Plor-Na-Mban answered
truthfully "It's better to be prepared than broken hearted"
Oisin
nodded with a thoughtful look on his face, for a Fae, Plor-Na-Mban
was a fountain of knowledge and wisdom for one so young. Oisin stood
in the centre of the camp sword and shield they'd found by the house
in hand as the Formorian came out of his house battered and Bruised.
The cuts and bruises from the previous fights fuelled the Formorians
anger and strength but Oisin knew they were wearing him down and it
was all a matter of time. The moment the Formorian cleared the
doorway he launched himself across the camp towards Oisin raising his
fist to punch him. Oisin was prepared and dodged just in time sending
the Formorian off balance. Oisin felt like a man processed as
strategies he thought he'd long forgotten began flowing through his
mind again along with all the information he knew of the Formorian
giants. He hoped he would stumble across that one piece of
information that would turn the tide of this fight and help save
Plor-Na-Mban. Oisin dodged a left only to be struck with a right.
Oisin stumbled to his knees dropping the shield and sword beside him
as his vision blurred and a faint ringing happened in his ears.
A
roar echoed behind him but no final death giving blow. Oisin slowly
turned as he got to his feat a loose grip on his sword the shield
forgotten. Plor-Na-Mban had struck the Formorian with a rock and now
the giant was advancing on her his back to Oisin. A thought flittered
across his mind. The weakest spot on a Formorian in general is its
neck.
'A
sword or knife would do' a voice echoed in his mind. Oisin frowned it
sounded like his beloved Niamh. His vision cleared completely as he
raised his sword and threw it. The sword embedded itself into the
Formorians neck. The giant groaned in pain and collapsed on the rocks
missing Plor-Na-Mban by inches.
"Is
he dead?" Oisin asked slowly picking up the shield and walking
slowly over to them as the final chain crumbled away.
"He
is" Plor-Na-Mban answered as she sunk to her knees by the dead
giants head. Oisin pulled his sword out of the neck by the hilt. "How
did you...?"
"Know
its weakness?" Oisin finished "I'm not sure, I heard my
wife's voice in my head she told me what to do"
Plor-Na-Mban
nodded with a knowing look before scrambling to her feat and looking
for her things. It took two hours for Plor-Na-Mban to find her things
and Oisin to build a pyre around the Formorian. Oisin lit the pyre
and watched the Formorian begin to burn.
“Come
on Oisin MacCumhaill lets go home" Plor-Na-Mban said softly "I
want to see my family and I suppose your wife is waiting"
"Aye
that she will be" Oisin replied taking his gaze off the burning
giant. The two left the camp in the early evening light heading west
and to the nearby villages.
Three
days later they arrived at the third village and walked into the
welcoming arms of Plor-Na-Mbans family. Oisin would have stayed the
night and left for home tomorrow if it wasn't for a messenger of his
wife's retinue appearing in the square. Niamh had gone into labour
the day before and knowing he was close had sent out the messengers.
"Go
to your wife MacCumhaill" Plor-Na-Mban said with a warm smile
and a giggle at Oisins face "Make sure she's alright and I hope
to hear of your son soon"
Oisin
looked surprised at her statement as he mounted the horse given to
him by a villager. Oisin and the messenger rode north to Niamhs side
and arrived just in time for their son to be born. A week later the
messenger returned with the horse and a letter for Plor-Na-Mban
written in the language of Fae. Her good friend Oisin was now the
prod father of a little boy named Oscar.
"Oh
just wait until his sister is born" Plor-Na-Mban murmured before
reaching for parchment to reply to the wondrous news.
The
reason why I wrote this story was due to being on a major reading
numerous fairytale/mythology stories kick at the time and at the time
I had next to no creative outlet other than writing. The reasons
behind my writing are in my blog on one of my other short stories;
All Hallows Eve (24/04/2020), please go give that blog a read I'd be
very much grateful. A version of this story is on my Fictionpress.com
account, the link is in the bibliography down below.
His
name literally means “Young Deer” or Fawn, and the story is told
that his mother, Sadhbh, was turned into a deer by a druid, Fear
Doirce (Or Fer Doirich). When Fionn was hunting her caught her but
did not kill her and she returned to human form. Fionn gave up
hunting and settled down with Sadhbh and she was soon pregnant, but
Fer Doirich turned her back into a deer and she returned to the wild.
Seven years later Fionn found his child naked on BenBulbin. Other
stories have Oisin meet Fionn for the first time as an adult and
contend over a roasting pig before they recognise each other.
- Oisin wiki page.
Oisin
is a minor character in The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Grainne, Which is
an Irish prose narrative from the Fenian Cycle of Irish Mythology.
THE
WEBSITE BIBLIOGRAPHY:
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WACKY, STAY WONDEROUS AND I'LL SEE YOU SOON...
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