Recollections (part 1?)

Rebellion is At Hand - Alastar

Faolán dared to stand up while I was giving my apprentice Colby a good talking to. I put the flame-colored boy in his place, and I was going to see him properly punished. Then the brat escaped. Brother Odhrán had something to do with it, I'm sure of it. But I'll keep him alive, for he did me a favor on that wintry day long ago when the Northmen attacked. He's too weak to fight back against me. He spends too much time in that godforsaken cave burying himself in darkness and delighting in the ways of cowards.

One of the rowboats were stolen that night. I suppose the boy's off somewhere remote. Far off where there's no one to contact. I've sent letters to Iona and Clonmacnoise asking for his location. It's been weeks and there's still no reply of his whereabouts. Clever lad.

The incident with Colby was just the beginning. Faolán's up to something. Dare I say, "rebellion"? The others must have figured, "If a lad shy of 14 or 15 years of age can fight, so can we!" And soon, they'll follow in the heretic's footsteps. The boy's somehow keeping in touch with them. Sorcery, that must be it! He must be in league with that godforsaken commune of witches I eradicated years back. He has an elaborate system of carrying out his messages to the others, charming them with his youthful looks and silver tongue. They're out to see me dead, the other monks. And once they have me, they'll bring back the way of pagans. Howling into the night and engaging in acts too repulsive for the human imagination.

Ohh, but I'm too strong for them and their spells. I'll take them down, one by one. Siorus is my most trusted confidant; he'll give me news of any suspicious activity in this monastery. Any sign of deviation will be properly addressed and punishment will be carried out. Then I'll see to it that God's will is properly put in place, and everyone here will never possess any sinful thoughts. This is my domain. No one stands up to me, Alastar, the Bishop of Lindisfarne!

Wanderer - Odhrán

Wanderer. Wanderer. Seems like the name of a hero in ancient tales, yes? Heheh, well, I bear that name. Not to brag, really. I'm just merely passing through in life. I’m not looking for fame or glory of some kind. I just want to be where I'm at. Nevertheless, I'm sure you're curious about how I got such a peculiar name. In that case, relax and listen well.

I was young, but unlike most, I had a rough start in life. I took to drink whenever my mind would haunt me. A night of drunken numbness would pass by, only leaving me in pain by morning. I was truly poor because of those nights of self-destruction and self-neglect. Then Brother Llewelyn came to me. I'm sure you've heard many great stories about him. He's one of those kinds of people who challenge everything set in stone, and all the while he sings and laughs, inviting you to join in as well. But I digress. He took me in as his apprentice here at Lindisfarne, and he practically treated me as if I was his own. At first, he kept a close eye on me, knowing I could easily revert back to addiction. Over time, I felt the burden being eased off of my shoulders. I remember many times gathering herbs in the afternoon and evening sun, he would suddenly lean back and crow and let out a belly laugh. With him, I was finally happy. 

One day, I woke up before dawn came. I had no idea what to do to occupy myself until the sun came up. I couldn't work on any herbal concoction, for that would wake Brother Llewelyn up, nor could I read any book in the dark. So I left Brother Llewelyn's hut under the oak tree in his herb garden. I felt the serenity of the night and the call of the seaside caves drawing me closer. I accepted it, for everything revolving that moment was as it should be. The ocean breathed in and out as I crawled into one of the caves. I remember thinking, Yes. This is it. as I communed with my surroundings.

"Odhrán! Odhrán, where are you?" Brother Llewelyn called out. From what I could tell, he sounded very worried for me. He could have thought I had done something horrible to myself. But it was the exact opposite. I was more than well. Morning light had come, and I had been sitting in the cave for hours, doing nothing. Well, I guess you could say I sat in contemplation or meditation. Just simply being.

I heard my teacher's calls come closer and more frantic. Never before had I heard Brother Llewelyn sound so scared, for he always had a love for life in his raucous voice. I couldn't keep silent for much longer; this game of hide-and-seek wasn't funny anymore. I peeped out, "It's okay, I'm over here!", giving away my location.

"Oh! Of all things sacred, what are you doing here?" my mentor exclaimed, relieved to see that I wasn't hurt as he crawled into the cave. At one point I think I might have heard him mutter under his breath, "These joints aren't what they used to be." as he settled in an awkward fashion, sitting across from me.

I said nothing to answer his question. I only chuckled, reveling in the moment of it all. Brother Llewelyn chortled back in response. Soon enough we spoke the language of madmen who cackle whilst dancing naked. We laughed to the point of tears welling in our eyes and clutching each other in an embrace, struggling to stay upright. Nevertheless, we tumbled into each other, our sides having become sore. We collected ourselves, heaving out breaths as we were washed with the dizzy feeling of bliss after a long cackle.

"You have come a long way since you joined, Odhrán," Brother Llewelyn remarked, his eyes gleaming.

"Come now, Brother Llewelyn," I said, "I just started."

"Ah! You've went miles, mun!" he emphasized, "And for that- uh, lay out youer right hand."

I did as he said, laying my right hand out. He was about to perform an odd ritual he either concocted himself or a ritual he learned from the druids as he raised his hand and closed his eyes.

"I dub thee, Wanderer," Brother Llewelyn cantillated. I couldn't help but snicker as he lay his hand on mine. Wanderer. Odd name, isn't it?

"All this pomp and circumstance for me, Brother Llewelyn?" I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Yes! You are the Wanderer, Odhrán," Brother Llewelyn said, "You search everywhere for happiness. But remember this; it's always there within you, so that you may find it wherever you go." He poked at my chest.

"I'll remember that. Thank you," I acknowledged, bowing my head.

"I was like you when I was young. I traveled all throughout Britain. As far north as the Highlands to the southern land of Seaxe. I met a sage and he told me the exact same thing. It's always within you. And all the while, I never forgot that truth," my teacher noted, "Come, Wanderer, let's go back and celebrate!"

He got himself out of the cave, touching the sand below him. I followed soon after, pride swelling in my heart. A new name. A name for my spirit. And we reveled in it.

Crazy, Am I? Well, Maybe - Llewelyn

Well, hello there! I'm very glad you could stop by here! Please, admire the plants here. They are part of you as much as your body is.

Oh? Too much sounding like a heretic for someone living in an island monastery? Oh, but it’s very true! Sure, it's a radical theory, but if you spend much of youer life traveling through the country, I'm sure you'd eventually know. Not just know, but feel it! Have you ever knelt before the River Tamesas* and chanted the names of the one being until you found yourself weeping? What a feeling that is, mun! It's very much like being with a lover, only the lover is in everything around you, from the trees and rocks to the air you breathe. But I'm only getting ahead of myself. I once was a wandering hermit, you might say. And I've traveled many miles many times, learning from the sages.

Hm? How did I end up here? How did we all end up here? Hahaha! Ah, how funny it is, existence… oh! You mean, "here" here! Hah! Well… I was out in the North Country. Mind, it was just me with my own two feet. Then I saw him. On top of his horse was wouldn't you believe it, Saint Aiden! The king's spiritual advisor and bishop of Lindisfarne. How did I know he was a saint? He had a blinding glow around him, radiating the knowledge that only the wise have attained. Regardless of whatever path you've taken, all roads lead to Rome, as they say. And he's found Rome on his road.

I bowed to him, after all, he was no more different than I am. A fellow I met in this game called life. Supplies were low in the bag I’ve made from my own sleeve, so I asked him, "Alms for a wandering hermit?". And the next thing he did, you wouldn't believe! He leaped off and gave me the horse, he did! I couldn't believe it as I gaped my jaw and looked back in awe.

"I insist," the saint said. Then he tossed a few coins toward me. Heh, might as well call me the king of the paupers. I reign over all! Ha-ha!

Word spread of Saint Aiden's deed. From what I heard, the king was fuming that he gave me the horse. But I imagine he put the king in his place. A strong chap, he was. I figured, "might as well return the horse" after hearing of that ordeal. Took me a while, but I got to Lindisfarne. Saint Aiden let me stay awhile, for I needed to rest after so much traveling. We talked and exchanged our views on life, the world, and the like. After maybe a week or so of staying, I was ready to make my leave to see the world once again. Then, he asked me to join as a monk. Surprise!

"You have a very unique perspective," he said, "So many could learn from you here."

And well, I'm sure you could piece that together, mun. How am I still somewhat a pagan after joining, you ask? I said earlier, all roads lead to Rome. We all have one energy flowing through, we just give it different names. That's how I stay here and yet still retain my beliefs. The world may have different languages and nations, but we all still have one thing in common, though people may not act like it. All it takes is to listen. Hm, I'm crazy? Heheh, perhaps.

*The Tamesas is the Brittonic name for the River Thames.

A few passages I wrote in each character's POV. I had to sort of channel them, and learn their mannerisms a bit. Alastar's speech is formal, but trails off topic a little bit in this passage. Odhrán's speech is demure and Llewelyn's just all over the place (fun fact; the bit with the horse is based on a legend where St Aiden did give the king's horse to a beggar.). I might write more of these in the future? Overall, they're quite fun to write!

The Secret of Kells (c) Tomm Moore