BirthSongs

By Ami E. Bowen

The skies were a deep summery blue all season long and the round-breasted robins sang merrily as they flit-flittered from branch to branch. Puffs of cotton-clouds raced across they heavens lazily as morning rolled towards afternoon and a gentle breeze stirred the young-green leaves and played cheerifully with the tiny forest sprites’ gossamer wings.

She could remember being born, her mother in the form of a doe, bleeding to death in the thicket. Her healer’s powers not yet woken, the infant Ashe had wailed her grief and helplessness. She had wailed until her tiny lungs would allow no more sound and slowly, as the silvery moon rose to shine her blessed light upon the thicket and the motherless child, still covered in the blood of her birthing, the babe slept. Hungry and alone. But no longer afraid. The infant, in her childish way, already trusted and accepted the fact that she was alone and that the silvery orb in the sky overhead was watching her, carefully.

Night passed into morning and the creatures of the forest came and sniffed at her, carried away the body of her mother as was the way of nature, and let her be. Roses the hue of blood sprung all around her, nearly hiding her. It was an hour or two into the afternoon of the next day that she was found. A young woman of the city, with more than a touch of elven blood coursing though her viens, smelling of gasoline and leather, strange scents that frightened the babe, strong drink and sex, nearly stumbled over the child in her attempt to outrace some pursurer.

“Oh, My God!” She cried, having spied the infant, nearly dead from exposure and hunger, amidst the roses, “What in the world...” She carefully lifted the baby into her arms and clucked her tongue, her eyes looking wildly behind her, “It’s not safe here, little one.” She whispered as both she and the child heard footsteps closing the distance behind them.

She ran clumsily with the child, opening her blouse as she did so. “My own baby, Edmund...is gone...They have taken him away...”

As she ran she offered her own breast, still full of milk for Edmund, who would never nurse from them again, to the half-starved girl-babe she had found in the trees. As night appoached, the young girl sat down to rest against the trunk of an old oak tree, thanking the little shade spirits for covering her trail from her trackers, who would certainly kill her and the child if they caught her. It was just as well she was as comfortable surrounded by nature as she was surrounding by buildings. That might be an atavantage over her followers.

With expert hands the young girl sqeezed some of her own milk into her hands, licking the sweet nectar from her fingers and palms. She drank from herself as best she could, knowing that she needed to keep her strength up if she was to navigate her way through the forest, which was huge, with a tiny infant to care for and survive. She let the baby suck from her left breast, as it was much more swollen and hard with the need to release the milk within than the right.

That night, as they lay down to rest after having not heard the dreaded footsteps for a long time and feeling relatively safe, the young girl had a peculiar dream. She dreamed that she and the suckling infant, whom she had unknowingly named Ashe, found themselves surrounded by hooting owls. They covered the trees around them and the ground about them, hooting softly and gazing lovingly at them, but mostly at Ashe. One owl, a great gray one with large misty amber eyes actually spoke to the young girl in a calm and gentle way.

“MerryBella, the child you care for is Faery.” It said, bowing it’s head deep into into it’s knees, “You must take her to the thicket of her mother’s birth and leave her with the first creature you find there.”

“But...How shall I know...?” She began...

“You shall see the crimson rose blooming there.” The owl whispered with a voice like the wind, “Covering the thicket....The crimson rose shall bloom no where but where a true child of the fae have been born...”

MerryBella awoke from the dream in a start, certain she would find herself surrounded by the ugly men she had been fleeing, her life forfiet. All remained calm and the infant Ashe lay sleepy contently against her bare breast. Smoothing a wrinkle in her dirty blue jeans, she rose to her feet and shakily made her way though the forest.

For hours she searched, yet she could find not one singe red rose. She found many bluebells and dragonsnaps, but no roses. About to give up and take little Ashe home with her to her mother’s small apartment building near the center of the city, MerryBella sighed when her blue eyes caught sight red against green-ish-brown. Certain this was the right thicket, She stepped gingerly over brambleweeds and stickerplants to the enterance of the copse. Everything was hushed. Not a bird’s wing, nor insect buzz could be heard and MerryBella stilled her breathing as well as she could.

A doe large with fawn broke from the thicket, startling MerryBella and nearly causing her to run. The doe looked deep into MerryBella’s eyes, deep earthly brown against sky blue and a message of love and peace seemed to pass from the doe to the girl.

Realizing that she must be in the thicket of little Ashe’s mother’s birth, She bowed gently to the deer and placed the baby within nest of soft fur, leaves and dandilions, made, hours before, by the doe herself in parperation of Ashe’s arrival. She backed away slowly. But the doe would not let her get to far. She nodded her head and swiveled her ears, beckoning MerryBella closer. MerryBella, terrible afraid of an angry buck lurking nearby, hesitaited on the brink of fleeing.

“Do not be alarmed, child.” The doe spoke with her eyes, motherly and kindly, “Come. I have a gift for you.”

MerryBella came closer and waited, her heart thump-thumping so loudly in her chest she was afraid the doe could hear it. She watched the doe bend her head down and words like sundrops bounced from her eyes, from her velvetly nose, from her hooves...into MerryBella’s mind.

“Your son, Edmund, is not dead.” The doe disclosed, “But being held not far from here in a man-made place of stones and brick...The men who chased you were evil and the gaurdians would not allow them to safely travel this path...They have since fallen down a deeply dug pit and perished....Little Edmund was saved from the fall by my granddaughter, Henritta, who lives in the small house near the edge of this wood, near the begining of the darker forest where no one of good spirits goes willinging...”

MerryBella thanked the doe and left Ashe in her care. She was frantic to find little Edmund again and hold his tiny warm body in her arms once more. Her mother’s heart fairly ached with the yearning. She ran the rest of the way towards the little house the doe had told her of. When she arrived, she was dismayed to find everything looking so much out of shape and disorginized and overgrown. The weeds had taken over every inch of the garden and the once beautiful white brick had fallen to decay and cracks. She raised her arm to brush cobwebs and overgrown ivy from the small wooden door, sure that no one could possibly live here, and knocked loudly. As she feared her knock could be heard echoing all through the house yet no one came to answer. She stood foolishly on the doorstep for a few moments more, than turned to find her way out of the forest. Hot tears blinding her.

As she turned, she meet the stricking image of a young girl and a boy, hand in hand, watching her from the trees. MerryBella wiped a sleeve across her eyes. The girl appeared to be about ten years old and the boy a bit younger, maybe by a few days. The girl’s hair was long and pale blondish-gray and it flew and wrapped itself around the boy’s long raven dark locks in the breeze, even though MerryBella had felt no breeze. As she watched the girl let go of the boy’s hand and came towards her, turning to call the boy to her.

“We have come to thank you.” The young girl said softly, her voice held the lisp that all fae folk are said to have in childhood near the end of it, “Edmund and I are very grateful for all you have done, MerryBella.”

Edmund? MerryBella looked back at the house, felt her breasts with the milk all dried up, and back towards the children. But Edmund was just a babe....He could be much older than...

“The deer raised me.” Ashe said, taking MerryBella’s trembling hands in her own soft warm ones, “You bore Edumd once and he was stolen from you...the lady of this cottage cast a special spell which put your son’s true life-essence within the doe...When the child of your body died in this cabin he was being reborn, ready for emerging again, within the womb of the doe...”

MerryBella could look only stunned. The boy approached her, grinning with her mouth, her eyes! Oh! Edmund!

“Time means little here, Mother.” The boy said, “Ten years have passed since you left Ashe with the deer that gave her life to bear me...I realize that soon you shall have to leave us...and I wished to meet you.”

“Edmund...” She whispered, still scared it was a dream, a beautiful dream and that she would awaken to find those men glaring angry down at her, angry that she would defy them and run, “How can this be...my dear son...”

“The old spellcaster left you something as well, MerryBella.” Ashe said, handing her over a perfect blood-crimson berry, “Eat this and wait....New life shall come to you even though you shall not be in the same form you are in now...”

(Several Months Later...)

Holding her basket carefully in her arms, MerryBella choose her path carefully. To the mortal eye, it would seem she did not have a path, that she merely dodged fallen branches and dunked under low-hanging tree-limbs gracefully. But the path she followed had been trampled down and trod upon for generations upon generations of forest fae such as herself. Slowly, with purpose, she lay the basket down and continued to walk, her humanly form shifting without hurt, gracefully into that of a fawn-heavy doe. An overgrown cottage lay not far from where she walked, waiting for her return. The thicket she entered was covered with red-red roses.

Ashe and Edmund watched from the distance of the branches, both having shaped themselves after owls for the occasion, excitment glowing in their feathers and amber eyes. Ashe flew gracefully down to perch on a branch near the doe-formed MerryBella, watching carefully.

“Yes, Dear Ashe.” MerryBella sighed, as the kicking began with would soon turn to full contractions, “A son shall I bear this night...Whom you shall love with all your being...I’ve seen the dreams...”

A few hours later, as the forest folk waited and slept, some keeping watch, an elven child was born. With her last dying breath, MerryBella named him Reed.

Ashe would never forget the first look at the child she knew would grow to be her soul-mate.

“Edmund.” Ashe said, a month later, holding Reed in her arms, her magick-made milk keeping him fed, “Are you happy here with me? You know what shall happen once Reed is grown don’t you?”

Edmund, being a full human allowed to live as a fae, shook his head. He knew his mother had been MerryBella, the doe to birth the little baby Ashe rocked, and that a sprinkling of elven blood had coursed through her blood to be passed onto to Reed.

“You will die, Edmund.” Ashe said matter-of-factly, “Reed shall challenge you to a duel and you shall die.”

“Oh, Don’t look so alarmed, Edmund.” She smiled and reached for his hand, “It won’t be too painful...It must be done though. I’ve seen it in my visions lately...You know my visions are always true...Anyway, You can be with MerryBella again...Don’t you want that?”

“I would like to see my mother again, Ashe.” He said, “But I don’t wanna die!”

With those words hurtled from his chest, Edmund ran away from Ashe and the infant Reed. Ashe did not follow. But she wept for him. For she had seen him run in the direction of the Cursed Dark Forest, where nothing of good spirit may enter and live. Edmund was never seen nor heard from again.

Ashe missed Edmund dearly for several years. But, as Reed grew older she thought less and less of Edmund as she explored the new feelings rising within her and the pleasures of uncovering hidden games with the now fully grown Reed, who was often moody and riding away on that awful smoking bike of his into the city to stay for weeks on end. She waited for him...but she always missed him when he left, knowing she could not follow...She had not place in the man-driven city....A place he seemed drawn to.

She tried to keep his attention on her by showing off and playing various tricks and magicks on him...such as walking gracefully across the water of a still lake without so much as causing a wake...or shaping the leaves falling from the trees into patterns to spell out her love for him. Reed traveled to the city but he always...always came back to her...his soul-mate....Until the day he had no reason, anymore, to come back.

~End~