The Devoted Virgin's Sacrifice to The God of The Earth (“Íobairt na Maighdine Dílse do Dhia na Talún”)

In a time and land similar to ours:

Between three mountains and two rivers, deep inside an ancient forest, a Druid tribe lived in peace in The Land of The Earth God. They were a small and tightly-knit farming community who worshiped The God of the Earth with offerings of grains, fruit, vegetables, herbs, and sweet flowers. The tribe also placed great importance on nourishing baby oak trees amidst the ancient oak trees - the forest was considered The Earth God’s special rulership. The natural world was practically all the tribe knew. The tribe counted the days through the phases of the moon, stars and planets, and celebrated festivals for each season as they arrived. At the center of the Sabbats, rituals, sacrifices and seasonal festivals was the Family of The Shrine, a lineage that had served The God of The Earth for generations beyond count. Despite their offerings and the tribe’s devotion, however, the sun shone more frequently than it rained, and the snowmelt from the mountains in spring grew less plentiful. In fact, the sun shone more frequently as the seasons and years passed. The tribe could see the results in their smaller and less fruitful crops.

The shrine family, and most especially, the middle son of the shrine family, were well aware of how the need for rain was gradually becoming more dire. The middle son, Comhartha an Fhómhair, could feel the need for rain in his bones. While he and his family drew water from the rivers, Fhómhair knew that long, slow rains were best for guaranteeing a completely healthy crop. As a man most accustomed to tilling the Earth and tending his family’s garden, Fhómhair could feel the hard earth against his plow blade; it took all his strength these days to guide the blade into the ground and keep it steady, even with the well-fed oxen pulling the plow. He took turns plowing the ground with his older brother, Séasur na Báistí, and his father, leader of the shrine to The Earth God. The shrine mother occasionally came out to bring water and food to her children and husband while they plowed the earth. The family’s plump cats and dog usually followed Fhómhair’s mother around wherever she went.

Fhómhair felt the early heat of the morning air as he worked. The Festival of Beltane would begin tomorrow, and summer would truly begin. With each row he took turns plowing with his father and brother, he murmured prayers to The Earth God for a fruitful harvest, and for rain. His mind ran to the small shrine which he had built for The Earth God a distance away from the main shrine. Before early morning chores, Fhómhair had offered several pieces of fruit and fresh herbs on the altar and had prayed that The Earth God would accept them. As he watched his brother take his turn on the plow, Fhómhair wondered whether the offerings would still be there when he returned that evening. His father and mother had not instructed Fhómhair in making the altar - he had made it on his own when he arrived at his tenth autumn. Fhómhair had always felt a special connection to The Earth God for reasons he didn’t know, but he assumed that because it was his family’s job to worship and care for The Earth God’s shrine, that he should do his part, too. Having celebrated his twentieth autumn the year prior, and with full understanding of what it meant to worship The Earth God, he took his personal worship rituals more seriously than ever before.

In the middle of the afternoon, after several fully plowed rows, Fhómhair’s father said, “This is enough. You boys unyoke the oxen, and Fhómhair, you take them back to pasture.” Their father placed a large satchel of several bags with various types of seeds around his shoulders, and with quiet prayers, began planting the seeds in the first row. Fhómhair and Báistí unhooked the heavy wooden yoke and lifted it off the oxen. The oxen lifted their heads, sighed their relief, and looked around for grass to eat. Fhómhair took their halters and led them away from the garden.

Fhómhair listened to the sound of rustling tree leaves overhead, and the grass underneath his feet and the oxen’s hooves. He could feel their hot breath on his hand as they sniffed him for the treats that he made for them. When they arrived at the cow pasture, Fhómhair opened the gate, and brought them in. He untied their halters and took them off, but the oxen did not leave yet. Fhómhair smiled as they greedily took the treats from his hands, soaking his hands in their saliva. After the oxen sniffed him again and realized he had no more treats to give, they placidly walked a bit away and began eating their grass. Fhómhair watched them for a bit before walking back to the garden to help plant the seeds. He took a few bags of seeds from his father’s satchel and selected a row for planting. Just like his father and brother, he said a brief prayer to The Earth God with each new fistful of seeds, and scooped the earth over them. When all the seeds were planted, the brothers and father sprinkled the rows with water from the nearest river.

It was evening by the time they were finished; the father and his sons returned to the shrine for dinner. They ate in a comfortable though exhausted silence while the family dog and cats sat close by and watched each bite carefully. A short while after their dinner began, Fhómhair’s youngest sibling burst into the dining room, eyes ablaze and twigs in their tangled hair. Fhómhair could see the fur of the lynx receding into human skin on his sibling’s legs and arms.

“Ah, another wonderful adventure then, Tine?” Fhómhair’s mother asked with a smile. Páiste na Tine didn’t respond immediately, but stared with wild eyes into the far distance for a moment.

“I caught a bird today!” They said a bit too loudly for the size of the room. The shrine mother and father applauded and nodded their approval as Tine settled down to the dinner table.

“It won’t be long before you’ll be experienced enough to lead the tribe in rituals,” the father said with pride in his voice. Tine thanked their mother for dinner, and began wolfing their meal down like an animal might. The family paid Tine’s table manners no mind; Tine was an individual who defied human expectations. Over the course of Tine’s fourteen summers, Tine had gradually grown into a more powerful, shapeshifting shaman whose prophecies, understanding of herbal remedies, and readings of the stars were well beyond their years. Fhómhair understood his youngest sibling to be the likely heir to the shrine’s care when his parents were gone.

After dinner, the family helped clean the dining table and the kitchen before their evening prayer rituals. When the washing up was finished, their father turned to them. “Bathe first,” the father said, “And then, come meet your mother and I in the sanctuary.”

Fhómhair, Báistí, and Tine went outside to the pool of water that served as the shrine family’s bath. They all piled in together, washed themselves and soaked for a while, letting their muscles relax in the cool water after the hot work of the day. While relaxing, Fhómhair saw Báistí’s eyes were fixated somewhere behind Fhómhair. He turned to see what his brother saw: a troop of their tribe’s warriors, running together through the forest just past the shrine. They were fully naked, and the light of the twilight sky shone against their sweating, shiny bodies. Fhómhair’s eyes shot down to their cocks and scrotal sacs as they merrily flipped around with each stride. He didn’t stop staring at them until Báistí said with a grin, “Aren’t they glorious? Thank The God of the Earth for beautiful men!”

“Indeed,” Fhómhair said under his breath, and willed his eyes away from the warrior’s bodies to the water he sat in.

One of the tanned warriors called to Báistí. Báistí waved and shouted, “I’ll be there after evening prayers!” The warrior waved back and continued his running with the group. Báistí settled back down into the water with a gigantic grin, then looked at Fhómhair: “You’d do well in settling down with Daithí. He likes you a lot.”

The heat in Fhómhair’s face rose. Before he could say anything, Tine told Fhómhair with wide eyes, “You are too elevated above any of the tribe, Fhómhair. You belong to The God of The Earth.”

“Yes, but what’s wrong with having a little fun while being devoted to The God of The Earth?” Báistí asked. “Fhómhair can enjoy lovers and keep serving Him.”

Neither Tine nor Fhómhair responded. Tine’s eyes were already cast heavenward to the forest ceiling and the stars beyond it. Fhómhair couldn’t get the warriors’ bouncing genitals out of his mind.

“Just think about whether you’d enjoy lying down with Daithí, or with one of the men you’ve got your eye on,” Báistí said to Fhómhair as Báistí smoothed his hair away from his face. “Having good sex is healthy for us, and you’ll be able to focus better on daily life.”

The siblings eventually finished their bath and returned to the shrine for the family’s evening prayers.

The family’s dog and cats escorted the siblings into the sanctuary. Their mother and father were already there, laying the offerings on the stone altar. The torches around the altar flickered and illuminated the roughly cut stone walls, roots from long dead trees wrapping through the spaces between the walls. Banners woven of grass and painted with praises for The Earth God swayed slowly in the winds coming through the thatch roof above the sanctuary. The siblings knelt behind their parents and waited for their father to begin. Their mother lit the offerings with the fire from one of the torches and then knelt beside her husband.

Fhómhair focused all his attention on the ritual while their father said in a low voice: Peace and blessings to You, God of The Earth. Your blessings to us, your people, are always rightly timed. We honor Your Watchful Eyes and Your Protective Hands. Please accept our prayers and our offerings to You this evening.

The scent of burning sweet grass and herbs filled the sanctuary. Fhómhair breathed the smell in, a kind of perfume that had become deeply nostalgic for him. He had always imagined that The Earth God would smell like dried sweet grass. Fhómhair thought that if it were so pleasing to The Earth God’s people, then perhaps it was because it was also His favorite scent, too.

Fhómhair said a silent prayer oft repeated over many years: Please, God of The Earth, let me serve You however You please.

Their prayers finished, the shrine mother got up and stirred the offerings on the stone altar, allowing them to finish burning more evenly. All but Fhómhair stood up and took their leave of The Earth God. Thank you for making us Your People, Fhómhair prayed. He stayed kneeling, fully focused on feeling the presence of The Earth God. His father placed a warm, heavy hand on his shoulder. “You serve Him well; stay as long as you feel is right.”

Fhómhair stayed until he felt a kind of dismissal, an ending to the evening ritual. When he looked around the sanctuary, as if to see The Earth God Himself, he saw one of the family’s cats sitting beside him, grooming herself. Fhómhair stroked and kissed the cat before picking her up and leaving the sanctuary.

When he re-entered the family’s living area, he saw his mother and father sitting on the cushions amongst candlelight, drinking herbal tea. His father looked at him and waved Fhómhair over to sit with them. Fhómhair sat down and put the cat on his lap; the cat left to see what was going on outside the home. His mother handed him a steaming cup of herbal tea. “Your brother has gone cavorting with his boyfriend and girlfriend,” the shrine father said mildly. “Honestly, I don’t understand where he gets the energy.”

Fhómhair laughed quietly. “After plowing all day today, you’d think he’d want to just go to bed,” he said.

Just outside the shrine and family home, they watched Tine play with the family dog, and gradually transform into a cat who playfully batted and meowed at the real cats and the dog. Fhómhair and his parents listened to the sounds of the evening for a moment: the wind in the trees outside the home, the whispering grass, and the chirping nocturnal insects. His parents discussed the activities for the next day, and the upcoming Beltane festivities. His mother discussed some herbal remedies which she would be teaching their community how to make. “You’d do well to learn this new combination as well, Fhómhair; it’s good for increasing your strength during these days of sowing,” she said.

Fhómhair nodded and asked with an edge of humor, “Would it help Báistí have better sex with his boyfriend and girlfriend?”

His parents laughed. “I don’t think he needs the extra energy,” his father said.

They finished their tea, and his parents went to bed. Fhómhair washed their teacups and went outside to look at the evening. Tine was still playing with the family pets in their cat form. “Guard the shrine, please, dear sibling,” Fhómhair said to Tine. Tine’s cat form yowled their understanding. Fhómhair chuckled and turned to walk to his personal shrine to The Earth God.

Fhómhair had built the small shrine as a testament to the unspoken connection he felt to The Earth God. Fhómhair’s parents attributed his studious devotion to his being born during the start of the harvest season, hence his full name: “Sign of the Harvest”, and Fhómhair had never thought to question that correlation. He plucked some wild rowan berries and picked up some dried, fallen twigs on the ground, then carried them up to his shrine.

It was unremarkable by a passerby’s eyes: two flat stones seated carefully on top of each other, with three dolmens seated in the ground, framing his offering surface. He laid his offerings on the altar, but did not light them yet. Instead, he sang the prayer he had created when he was still a small boy. “Let me be a servant most devoted to The God of The Earth who loves and most generously provides for His people, and who most generously provides to me.” Then, Fhómhair lit his offering with a flintstone which he carried with him. He sat and watched the offering burn, and sometimes turned his eyes up to the night sky above him, stars shining bright and close to the earth.

When the offering burned low, he stirred the remains until the fire burned itself out. He bowed towards the altar and stood up to leave. With one more glance at the stars, he returned to his family home, listening to his footsteps on the well-worn path to and from his small shrine. As he drew close to his home, through the trees, he saw the Druid warriors sitting around a community campfire, talking loudly, laughing and drinking beer, still fully naked. Fhómhair looked at their shining faces and bodies, committing the sight to memory.

As he arrived home, he saw Tine in their cat form in a tree, with the family’s pets sitting at the tree base and watching Tine. One of the cats meowed sharply and shortly at Tine, clearly commanding them to come down and go to bed. Fhómhair laughed at the sight of their bossy cat and went to his room.

As he undressed for bed, he allowed the image of the warriors to float into his mind’s eye. Unlike his brother, Fhómhair had never been sexual with anyone at all, so he could only imagine what sex might feel like. It never took him long to come. He laid down with a deep breath, and sighed as he took his cock into his hand. He visualized sucking off the most well-endowed, muscular warrior in their tribe, and felt himself harden quickly. He imagined how the warrior would put his hot, thick cock into Fhómhair’s ass with Fhómhair’s legs around his powerful shoulders. He imagined how the warrior’s thick hand would stroke Fhómhair off, and thought about what it would feel like to feel the warrior coming inside him. Fhómhair came with the imagined feeling of being sucked off. He wiped his hands and body off with a nearby rag.

His mind cleared, he laid there, listening to the wind in the trees outside the family home. Beltane would begin tomorrow. He quickly fell asleep, fully relaxed and content.