High on a Mountain by Tommie Lyn Page B

been
practicing this week.”
    “Then maybe it will be worth the torture of
listening to you screeching away—”
    “Ma! Make him stop—”
    “Ailean! Leave your brother alone,” Bridghe
scolded. “And Niall, stop whining. Act like a man. If you two keep
this up, I’ll send you both to the barn to spend the evening, and
you’ll miss the party altogether.”
    “Sorry. I’ll behave, Ma,” Ailean said.
    He didn’t want to miss ceilidh ; he
loved it. Some of his happiest childhood memories were of the
story-telling at the ceilidh . As a boy, he sat wide-eyed and
enthralled as he listened to tales of the bravery and gallantry of
his ancestors. He thrilled to stories of the glory of battle,
stories of how clansmen fought with honor and defeated their
enemies.
    He pictured himself as the hero of the
stories, saw himself, sword in hand, fighting bravely for his clan,
giving no thought to his own safety. In his daydreams, he saved
others through his strength and ability as a warrior. He saw
himself accepting accolades and receiving the glory and honor due
his exploits.
    Ailean also enjoyed stories of selkies and
kelpies. And tales of the fairies, little people who lived inside
the hills. He absorbed superstitions from the frightful narratives
of the supernatural which sustained many of the ancient beliefs of
the Highlanders, legends handed down from their Celtic ancestors
and passed from one generation to the next.
    And he loved the dancing and singing. Each
week, everyone danced while Raghnall MacLachlainn played the
fiddle. Raghnall’s older brother, Tòmas, had been the fiddler at
the ceilidh until last year when he married and moved to the
nearby croft where his wife’s family lived.
    Now Raghnall played the fiddle for the
dancing, and Niall was learning to play, too. Each week his fingers
became more adept as he pulled his bow across the strings of the
fiddle Aodh had inherited from his father.
    Singing was an integral part of Highland
life. Highlanders sang as they worked, worshipped and played. Each
Friday night, Ailean always sang a song or two by himself and then
led everyone in song.
    He smiled as he anticipated the evening of
fun and wished Mùirne could be at his side to enjoy the party with
him. But he told himself that there would be other Friday nights,
other times of enjoyment he and Mùirne would share once they were
married.
    ____________
     
    Mùirne watched and waited all day, but Ailean
didn’t come. She had believed him when he said it didn’t matter to
him that she was a MacGriogair. She believed him when he said he
loved her, believed he wanted to marry her.
    But now, her faith in him was shaken. Doubt
dragged her shoulders down like a heavy burden, and it grew deeper
with each passing hour.
    He doesn’t love me after all.
    But she remembered how he looked at her, his
eyes misted with love, and she recalled the things he’d said.
    Surely he loves me. What if he hasn’t come
because he’s hurt? What if something happened to him?
    She chided herself for her faithlessness. But
doubts about Ailean’s love for her arose once more. Anxiety and
disappointment swirled within her, unsettled her stomach and she
was unable to eat her noon meal.
    When evening came and she led the ewes to the
cottage, she hardly noticed her surroundings. Her inner turmoil
consumed her thoughts. She herded the sheep into the byre and went
to sit by the fire.
    Grandma looked up from her spinning. “Well,
Mùirne, your future is assured,” she said. “You have been spoken
for. And your Granda gave his permission for you to marry.”
    “Ailean came here? Without me?”
    A joyous smile brightened Mùirne’s face and
delight brought a sparkle to her eyes. The doubt and worry that had
plagued her all day dissolved, washed away as if it never
existed.
    “Who is Ailean?” Grandma said, without
looking up.
    “You said I’ve been spoken for. Ailean was
going to speak to Ma today.”
    Grandma frowned. “No. I don’t know