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    Imbolc: Bridget's Return
    Imbolc: Bridget's Return
    Imbolc: Bridget's Return
    Ebook89 pages1 hour

    Imbolc: Bridget's Return

    By Leydon Moore

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    About this ebook

    Imbolc: Bridget's Return is the first novella in the Celtic Fire Series. The Celtic Fire Series of novellas take place during each of the four cross-quarter days of the Celtic Calendar, represented by the Wheel of the Year. The Celts celebrated these days with four Fire Festivals marking the transition of the sun throughout the seasons.

    Imbolc, February 1st and 2nd, celebrated the midpoint between winter and spring. It commemorated the time of rebirth in the cycle of life, the warmth of the late-winter sun and a time for planting the first, early crops. Imbolc is associated with Brighid of the Tuatha De Danann and later with the Christian Saint Bridget and Candlemas. Brighid was revered as patroness of the Druids.

    Imbolc: Bridget's Return weaves together a pivotal event in the history of the Druids and the Celts at the time of the Roman conquest of Britain with the legendary Brighid of the mythical Tuatha De Danann into the story of a romance that has no future until an ancient debt is paid.

    Bridget Mor travels to Ireland to trace her roots. What she discovers about her ancestry and true heritage leads her to a destiny entwined with Ireland's myths, legends and history.

    Seamus Gwyffuid is bound to the quaint fishing village of Rathmor and the reclusive community living on the island of Inis Steisse.

    Seamus knows it is folly to believe that a Gwyffiud and a Mor could ever be together. Bridget refuses to let ancient history come between them. The ancient Debt that binds Seamus will demand a high price.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLeydon Moore
    Release dateMar 31, 2015
    ISBN9781310600968
    Imbolc: Bridget's Return
    Author

    Leydon Moore

    Leydon Moore immigrated to the United States in 1967, celebrating her ninth birthday en-route aboard the original Queen Elizabeth ocean liner.A Lifetime spent in New England - which she loves and shares with her husband and three dogs - has not diminished the lure of her ancestral home of Ireland.Inspired by a visit to the ruins of the Rock of Dunamase, the ancient stronghold of the ruling O'Mordha clan of Leix, she started writing stories in her head and eventually decided to put them down on paper.The Celtic Fire Novella Series will be released throughout 2015 in digital format. A combined print edition will be released in December of 2015.The Celtic Sun Novella Series will be released throughout 2016 in digital format. A combined print edition will be released in December of 2016.The first novel in the Triskelle Series, Triskelle: Spiral of Life, will be released in 2016.

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      Book preview

      Imbolc - Leydon Moore

      Imbolc: Bridget’s Return

      Leydon Moore

      Published by Eriu Legacy Press at Smashwords.

      Copyright 2015 Leydon Moore

      Cover image created by Rae Ann Partridge, Rae By Design

      Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

      Dedicated to my Guardian Angel

      Table of Contents

      Start of Imbolc: Bridget’s Return

      About the Celtic Fire Novella Series

      About the Celtic Sun Novella Series

      About the Triskelle Novel Series

      About Leydon Moore

      One

      THE WINDSWEPT BLUFF OVERLOOKED THE HARBOR. Bridget could feel the wind getting stronger, swirling around her, flinging her hair in a multitude of directions. Frustrated, she gathered the wayward strands, clipped the whole mess together in a hastily made French-twist, covered it all with her scarf and tucked the ends inside her coat.

      The talk at the pub had been about the approaching storm; spawn without warning as they were wont to do on Ireland’s turbulent western sea. They talked of the last time such a storm occurred and the two O’Halloran boys were lost. A tragedy to be sure and a glass raised all around to their memory; may they rest in peace.

      She’d placed fifteen euro on the table to cover her lunch of vegetable soup, home-baked brown soda bread with fresh creamy butter, and a pot of piping hot tea. Bridget had shouldered her bag, grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair, and left her cozy place by the fire.

      She knew Seamus’ boat, the Fand - Sea Goddess - with its distinctive teal-painted hull and dark wood trim. It wasn’t secured in the harbor below. He was out there.

      She watched the sea grow wilder as, ironically, the sky cleared and the sun shone down warmly on her face. Perhaps the sun meant the locals were wrong and the storm had already passed them by. However, looking out to the horizon her sanguinity was tempered by the darkness that loomed. The waves rose higher each time a new one rolled in and crashed against the rocky coastline, foaming white eruptions mirroring her inner turmoil.

      Hours passed and still she stood near the cliff edge, buffeted by the winds, anxiously awaiting each new boat as it came in hoping it would be his. It never was. The sun had left her, along with any optimism she harbored that the storm would pass them by. The sea was wild, angry, its battleship-grey color emulating the sky above. Both were dressed for war.

      She barely knew him and didn’t really like him. She was drawn to him. Her waking thoughts and restless dreams were obsessed with him. It was crazy, as crazy as her sitting on a windswept - now also rain swept - cliff anxiously waiting for a virtual stranger to return safe to shore.

      In the harbor below the villagers had already tied every boat down and done all they could to safeguard them from the storm. No one was outside now, having returned to their homes or to the companionship of the local pub. The boats swayed, rising and falling within their limited range of motion, straining against their tethers.

      She saw it first as a large swell far out from shore. She watched in horror, helpless, as it grew slowly, steadily and moved inexorably toward the harbor, toward the village, toward her. The massive wave crashed over the barrier rocks. Fifteen feet of surging surf swamped the quay, shattering storage crates, tossing the boats around and into each other, some torn from their moorings. A second powerful wave followed right behind the first causing further damage. The raging sea continued to batter the tiny harbor. Spray from the breaking waves reached her on her perch above. Still, she could not move. She saw it, a boat on the horizon, so small but she knew it was the Fand. Seamus. She just knew.

      Bridget tracked the Fand as it drew closer, became more distinct, following behind the waves that were slowly diminishing in size and fury. Finally she was able to determine the hull was teal and trimmed in dark wood even as it disappeared and reappeared amidst the roiling sea. His Sea Goddess persevered and pushed through to the battered harbor.

      She watched Seamus emerge, wearing slick oilskins, and fight to secure the Fand at a safe distance away from the other boats. She watched as he and his crew, drenched with seawater and rain - just as she was - step onto the quay. With pats on the back and glad handshakes all around they went to join friends and family anxiously awaiting their safe return in the center of village life - second only to the church - Farrell’s pub.

      Tired, cold and wet Bridget headed for her own shelter from the storm just as Seamus looked up to the place where she had kept her vigil.

      Two

      BRIDGET ALWAYS ROSE WITH THE SUN. She enjoyed the quiet solitude of the day’s beginning. This morning, however, she had the company of the entire village out to assess the damage visited upon them by last night’s storm.

      Several boats were seriously damaged and some were, clearly, total losses as their hulls were barely showing above the waters of the now tranquil harbor. Crates of supplies awaiting shipment to the outer islands were now shattered pieces of wood, their contents strewn across land and sea.

      Liam Farrell - proprietor of the village pub and owner of a large boat listing to port but still attached to its mooring - broke the silence, By God, this will ruin me to be sure. That load of rubbish set me back ten thousand euro and I paid cash for the bloody boat that’s disappearing before my eyes. On top of it all the storage cellar is flooded and I’ll probably lose most of my stock. Ah, it’s a crying shame. I may have to up me prices to help cover the loss, I’m sorry to say.

      You’ve always been one for the insurance, Liam. I’ll wager by the end of the day you’ll have tripled your losses and filed a claim with the insurance man for the same. Don’t be looking to these poor folks to further line your pockets you old skinflint, said Seamus, winking at Bridget as he slapped Liam companionably on the back.

      Now, why don’t we all go over to Farrell’s and have a hearty breakfast before we tackle this mess so we can all get back to work. I imagine even our resident tourist will pitch in and lend a hand, Seamus said, smiling mischievously at Bridget.

      "Stop needling the

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