Druid Revival

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The Waking Dream

Elena.

Elena became aware of the voice calling her before she knew her surroundings. The voice itself was odd in that it did not come to her through her ears, but seemed to birth itself in her mind.

Opening her eyes, Elena was greeted by a strange vision. She appeared to be in her cabin, lying by the hearth, but at the same time it was not her cabin. The windows were dark, showing neither starlight nor moonlight, and the fire, which danced in front of her, burned without heat or sound.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked, more to herself than to any other person.

In a sense daughter.

The words were puzzling, for they provided no answer, yet they also worked on her mind. An answer was there, she knew what this was, but how did she know. Slowly, the knowledge came to her from her distant past as she learned of her place and her gift from her parents’ instruction. This was a waking dream. A dream from the all father, where He would speak, or He would come. Memory of her parents rekindled the grief inside her, and as she thought of them her surroundings changed. She found herself standing between the new oak and the old willow. Elena knelt between the two trees, resting her hands on the earth at their base. She was alone.

Not alone child. Never alone.

Elena laughed inside herself. What comfort could he provide, all father, distant maker. Here, in her sorrow was the first she’d heard from him.

Dear child, I have always been with you…

The landscape changed around Elena until she was once more in the cabin, though the cabin was newer. But one bed lay in a corner, and on it sat both of her parents. In their arms was a bundle, Elena herself, newborn to them. Inside her Elena felt a swelling pride and joy, not from her parents, or of her own. It clearly came from the all father, who was sharing it with her.

Again the landscape changed, another scene, another time, a little child wanders about the wood, fear twisting her features. Elena remembered. She’d wandered too far in the wood, and gotten lost. Her calls for her father and mother had echoed in the wood and no reply had come to her. The concern of the all father was palpable as she watched herself wander aimlessly, and then the bird had come. It was a small bird, with a black head and white chest – at the time Elena had not known it, but it was a chickadee. All father urged the child quietly to follow the bird, and the bird led her, tweeting and twitting from branch to branch, giving comfort while it gave direction. That bird was the first that Elena had truly befriended, and it stayed with her after that for almost two years until...

The scenery changed, and a slightly older child stood crying. Her mother held her close as they both sung sweetly to the earth, and a tiny shoot broke through. That was her first mourning, Elena had nearly forgotten it in the grief of her present days, but she’d had to say goodbye to her little bird. She felt the grief of the all father, both for her, and for the bird, he cared for it as well, and it saddened him that it had to die.

Elena watched as the scenes of her life played out before her, learning her gift and learning of the druids, their history, their community, their victories, and their defeats. All of it she watched from the eyes of the all father, and she knew that he had been there, and that he’d cared for her, oft in ways that she didn’t even know, from the sending of the bird to the gift of wildflowers in the spring, or a sunrise in the sky.

“Yes, I see all father, you have been with me.”

But it is not enough for you, is it child.

Elena could not deny how she felt. “My heart is broken. I see the future and do not wish to be in it.”

Sorrow pierced her heart as the All father heard her reply, and then the emotion dimmed, and soon it was no more within her, but she knew that He felt it still. I have a task for you Elena.

A task? From the all father? “What could I do, for you can do all things, why do you need me?”

I have my reasons. This task I have set is for you to do daughter.

“Must I?”

There is always a choice.

Yes, there was always a choice. Her parents had taught her much the same. Choose to hope, or choose to despair, choose to help or choose to hurt, choose to trust or choose to doubt.

“Very well, all father, what is this task.”

Do you remember the Woeden Sword?

Elena remembered the term, and dug further into her memory. The woeden sword was woven in druid lore; it was crafted of wood, but at the same time a sword, and as strong as any weapon of that name. It served as a channel and a focus for the magic of the druids. At one time there had been many such blades, but as the druids dwindled, their number diminished, until the last was lost with the druid who wielded it.

Yes daughter. There is but one woeden sword that remains. It is in the kingdom of Perdo. I would like for you to retrieve it.

Elena’s mind searched for excuses, the idea of the task weighing heavy upon her, and she already bore so much.

“What of the animals, the crops, the valley?” she asked.

I will care for them, daughter. As I always do.

His answer was quick, and firm. Elena knew it was a feeble excuse, and she knew also that there really was no excuse. She resigned herself to this duty, realizing in it that it made little difference what she did at this point, her grief she carried with her, whichever road she trod. “Very well, all father, I will undertake this task.”

Remember I am with you. Sleep now. Let your body be refreshed.

Elena closed her eyes and knew the dream no more.



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