The cave was pitch black, it was always pitch black. The dew fell in small drops from the ceiling. It was the only noise inside. Otherwise, one would go mad from the silence. But for a select few, it was a source of solace and contemplation.
Faolán sat perfectly still, his eyes closed. Odhrán sat right next to him, chanting a hymn. Faolán felt the quiet euphoria that came from being with his mentor, his only friend in terms of being able to discuss the many mysteries without being looked on as one with heretical beliefs. But even then, something kept eating at him. He sighed, distressed by the thought.
"Something wrong?" Odhrán asked, opening an eye.
"No...," Faolán replied, trying to bury his emotions so he could get back to his meditation.
"Are you sure?" Odhrán said, having further noticed Faolán's distress.
Faolán quickly looked around, as if someone was there eavesdropping. He opened his mouth, but no words came out as he gagged to force them out. He exhaled profusely, for he needed a moment.
"Why do you and Abbott fight so much?" Faolán finally asked, flinching, expecting a harsh answer.
"Excuse me?" Odhrán replied, his voice soft.
"Every time I see you and Abbott Alastar together, you always seem to have a cold look, and he returns it. It even goes so far in which I hear you and him arguing," Faolán lamented, "Even during mass, he tries to stare you down during his sermon."
Odhrán sighed, "I'm so sorry to have had you see that. Alastar and I have had a long history together."
"What do you mean?" Faolán asked, tilting his head.
"I'm sure I told you that I haven't always been here on Lindisfarne," Odhrán assured, "For all of my training and first few years being in this position, I was on an island, far away from here."
Faolán leaned in to listen, his curiosity sparked.
Odhrán continued, "I was told that Lindisfarne was in need for more monks, so I offered to be transferred. The journey was long and tedious, but I reached the mainland in due time. During the walk to Lindisfarne, I came across the village where Alastar came from. It had just been attacked by Northmen, for there were still small spreads of flames. There I saw Alastar on the ground, unconscious. He has been fighting off the invaders from what I can see from his wounds. I helped him recover by what nearby herbs I could find. I saw that he was grateful for my help, but as he got to know more about me, he saw where our differences lie.
"Do you have any idea what you associate with?!" Alastar yelled.
"I only associate myself with what my calling is, Alastar," Odhrán replied calmly.
"Your 'calling' is to be an enemy of God! That's what it is. Meddling in dark forces," Alastar snapped back, "I have no time to associate myself with heathens."
"If what you say belongs to heathens, I would have no problem calling myself one," Odhrán said.
"The punishment for heresy is death!" Alastar roared, then yelped, having pulled at his injuries.
"Kill me, then. Draw your sword in the corner there, and strike me through the heart," Odhrán replied, closing his eyes, ready for a cold blade to slash him.
Alastar picked up his sword and raised it, ready to make the fatal blow. He tried to make the strike, but all his hand could do was tremble. Odhrán muttered a prayer, ensuring that he would make his way to the afterlife safely. Alastar gritted his teeth and threw the sword to the ground.
"How could I kill you? You saved my life that day. I still owe you a great debt," Alastar lamented.
Odhrán opened his eyes in surprise. He knew surely he was going to die. Yet he didn't. He didn't know what to say.
The old monk saw Faolán wrapping his arm around him, trying to comfort him in reliving his memories. He smiled slightly.
"I assure you, I'm fine, Faolán," Odhrán said, his voice like a songbird's. He returned the hug to Faolán, almost falling asleep to the sounds of drops falling in the cave.
-Tried my hand at writing for a bit. Something different to try out, as well as developing my characters at the same time :).
The Secret of Kells (c) Tomm Moore
