Bride had been staying with the Cailleach for months.
Not by choice, of course; she was trapped.
You see, not long ago, the Cailleach had spotted a maiden near the woods. The girl beamed with vigor and cheer, and introduced herself as Bride.
The Cailleach scoffed in response and quickly imprisoned the girl, for she was no fool. She knew Bride had arrived to make changes, steal her throne, and ruin everything she’d worked so hard to create.
So the grandmother devised a plan: so long as she kept Bride busy with tedious tasks, then she, the Winter Queen, could rule forever.
Trapped and vulnerable, Bride did as the Cailleach said. From dawn until dusk, she cleaned and cooked, gathered firewood and swept the hearth. And despite her unfortunate situation, Bride’s dreams remained hopeful. She knew the woods had called her there for a reason.
But that didn’t mean things were easy for her.
One day, the Cailleach tasked Bride with washing an old fleece in a nearby stream. The fleece was brown and ancient, and the Cailleach insisted Bride wash it until it was white as snow. For two days, the maiden scrubbed and rinsed, scrubbed and rinsed, but the fleece remained the same. On the third day, Bride broke down in tears. Her hands were nearly frozen from the stream’s frigid currents, and with no one else to speak with, she cried to the trees.
The trees listened politely (as trees tend to) while her tears soaked the ancient fleece. Suddenly, a bearded man appeared. He introduced himself as Father Frost and offered his assistance.
He took the brown fleece from the girl and shook it three times. As if by magic, the fleece transformed from dingy to bright white. He told Bride to save her thanks, and instead, would she deliver a message to the Cailleach on his behalf?
Tell her grass is sprouting on the hillsides, and snowdrops are starting to bloom. It won’t be long now…
The Cailleach did not appreciate this message, nor her newly cleaned fleece. She called her eight hags and told them to fly in all directions until their icy winds shook the trees and ripped every flower from the earth.
But flowers were still blooming in Bride’s dreams. And that’s how she met Angus Og.
Bride didn’t know it then, but Angus Og was the Cailleach’s son. He was the God of Summer and lived on the Green Isle. He hadn’t visited his mother in a long time, and the Cailleach planned to keep it that way. Not because she disliked her son, but because he too had been dreaming of love, new beginnings, and of Bride.
The Cailleach told Angus to stay away, that she was busy, that the weather was too dangerous for travel, and they would see each other again, but not now.
Her words fell on deaf ears, because like Bride, the woods called to Angus Og. He cast a glamour on the land to calm the seas and clear the skies. He borrowed three days from February and one from August and then, set out to find the girl from his dreams.
After many days of travel, he entered the woods near his mother’s house. The ground was covered in ice, except for a trail of dainty, white flowers. Intrigued, Angus Og followed the flowers, wondering who possessed a flame hot enough to battle winter’s chill.
The flowers led him to Bride, of course. The two recognized each other from their shared dreams and wasted no time planning their escape.
That evening, when the maiden didn’t return home, the Cailleach was livid and rightfully suspicious. But the grandmother was also tired. So, so tired. With no energy to call for her hags, she fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.
When she awoke the next morning, she was horrified to see grass shoots in place of frost.
Against all odds, Bride had won.
The Cailleach barely had enough energy to stand, let alone walk. She tossed her enchanted hammer beneath a Holly tree, transformed into a screech owl, and flew to the Green Isle, the former home of her son. She found the Well of Youth and perched on its edge, sipping precious water all night. And the next day, as dawn lit up the skies, the Cailleach took one final breath before she dissolved into light.
And as she floated over the Green Isle, the eternal land of the young, she remembered this story. For it’s one she’d written many, many moons ago.
With no clouds or storms in sight, the Cailleach snuggled into her cocoon.
Only for a while, of course. When harvest season nears, and the flowers trade pollen for seeds, the Cailleach will emerge from her slumber.
But until then, Bride and Angus Og reign supreme. They play, love fiercely, and speak of warm days and good things to come.
Because you know what the poets say – you can cut all the flowers, but you can’t keep spring from coming.
Celtic Myth & Magick // Edain McCoy
$ 29.99
Tap into the mythic power of the Celtic goddesses, gods, heroes, and heroines to aid your spiritual quests and magickal goals. Human and divine energies complement each other; when joined, they become a potent catalyst for true magick and change. Celtic… read more
