Bean Si

Aodh was a young man from Cairnfearn, a small town on the edge of the highlands. He was of the age where his body was outgrowing his mind, and he was becoming curious of a great many things. One of those things of which he was curious was the caves that lead into the hearts of the mountains. His godfather and mentor, Bearnárd, had told him that they were dangerous and full of nameless monsters and creatures that had never seen a man or the light of day. But his curiosity outweighed his fear; how could he know, anyway? If these beasts had never been named, then how could they be known? And he was a stout individual, having worked his entire life in the physical sector. He wasn’t literate, but he was strong, and he was cunning. Two factors that had served him well thus far.

So he would foray into the mouths of the caves often, and less often he would venture inside them, going as far as he could before the light began to lose its power. One day Aodh was following a stream into the mountains when he came upon the entrance of a large cave some distance from the stream. The entrance was connected to the moving water by an eerily still and shallow body of water, the only movement in it coming from the border it shared with the stream. 

Aodh waded through the clear and still water, it only coming up to his shins. As he approached the mouth of the cave he heard the soft singing of a woman coming from deeper inside, and he saw a light flickering from around the bend further in. He continued into the cave, watching his footing on the cave’s rocky bottom. Soon he turned the corner and saw the woman he’d heard. She was kneeling by the shore, a small fire burning behind her. In her hands was a bloody shirt that she was dipping into the water. The blood must have been fresh because it departed the shirt with ease and ran the water crimson. He recognized that fabric. Aodh was unsure of what to do, but before he could do anything she spoke.

“Go.”

She lifted her head and met his eyes, and it was then that he saw the tears. Her eyes were as red as the water before her, and her cheeks were covered in that salty solution that ran down them. She didn’t sob, didn’t sniffle, but the tears continued to flow.

“Go,” she said once more, this time with more insistence. Aodh made to speak, but as he opened his mouth - 

“GO!”

The woman no longer had any pretense of civility, now shrieking at him to leave, to go. He took a step back and slipped on a loose stone, taking him to the floor of the cave with little grace. As he picked himself up out of the shallow water, he heard splashing. She was coming, eyes wide, and mouth open in a viscous shriek. He scrambled to his feet and ran from the diminutive yet terrifying woman. He would later swear that her teeth were sharp, almost filed to a point, and that her nails were like daggers, but for now, he simply turned and ran. He was much less careful getting out of the cave and fell several times. Each time he fell her screams became louder, letting him know without turning to look that she was getting closer.

Finally, he managed to burst from the cave's entrance, running through the shin-deep depths as quickly as he could. He broke into the stream and realized that he could no longer hear her keening. He turned around and saw nothing. Not a soul, not a wave, not a swirl of the ultimately placid water. Inside the cave the light was gone, and it became pitch black very quickly.

Aodh was understandably terrified, and he quickly extracted himself from the water and ran as quickly as he could home. Around him, the forest was quiet, deafeningly so. Every step he took was thunderous, every breath filled his ears as well as his lungs. Eventually, after what felt like too long, he managed to get back to the village and was greeted, still wet, by his godfather. As he caught his breath Bearnárd asked him what the hurry was. Between inhales, Aodh managed to tell him about the woman in the cave, and as he did Bearnárd’s face paled.

“Listen,” said Bearnárd, “you stay away from there. You don’t ever go back, do you understand me?”

Aodh understood perfectly. He didn’t even need the warning.

“Good. Now go home and get into something dry.”

Aodh did just that. Now that his fear had worn off he was cold. As he changed into new clothes he reflected upon what had happened and realized something. The shirt the woman had been washing looked eerily similar to Bearnárd’s new shirt that he’d been wearing. The only reason it was even noticeable was that it was a new fabric from a traveling merchant that had been in town. Its distinctive color was unlike anything they’d seen, and Bearnárd was absolutely smitten with it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a fervent knocking on the door. It was his mother.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Aodh, you must come quickly,” she said. “It’s Bearnárd. He’s been injured!”

Aodh lept from the bed and followed her to the scene. Just outside the village, Bearnárd lay pinned beneath a tree. It looked to have fallen wrong when they felled it, and Bearnárd was just in the wrong spot, not paying attention. Aodh ran to him and took his hand.

“Bearnárd,” he wept. “Bearnárd no!”

Bearnárd looked at him, a shocking calm on his face.

“Ah, yes. Yes, it would appear that it is my time. Promise me you won’t blame yourself. Tell me you know that nothing here is your fault.”

Aodh knew what he meant. He knew now what the woman had been warning him of. Tears ran down his face as he watched one of the greatest men he’d ever known bleed out beneath a mighty oak.

“Bearnárd, please don’t go. Please.”

“Man up boy! Cease this pointless begging. You know as well as I that nothing will come of it.”

Aodh’s cheeks began to numb as his eyes ran dry. He used his free hand to rub away what was left of his tears and the snot that had begun to run from his nose. Bearnárd used what seemed like the last of his strength to squeeze his hand and make of him one final request.

“Seek no vengeance for me, Aodh. Leave her be.”

With these final words, Aodh saw the last of the light leave Bearnárd’s eyes and felt his hand go limp in his grasp. Aodh wailed in pain, the pain of the loss of a loved one, and he had to be pulled away. 

Aodh never did go back to the cave. He never went into another cave again. Be it out of fear or respect, no one knew. He simply lived out the rest of his days working, and eventually raising a family. His oldest son, Bearnárd, was a strong young man with a good head on his shoulders.

Ultimately, though, he too was curious.