Gwytheyrn: A Short Story

Clang! A mountain of falling goblets and dirty silver platters pierces my ear drums and I instantly wake. As the pungent odor of boar wafts through the air and my eye catches a beam of the mid-morning sun, I realize that I failed to return from the mead hall. That could prove to be a costly mistake.
“This isn’t an inn, Cathasach,” said Judoc, my friend, the hall’s keeper and, fortunately, Amoorhi’s finest chef.
“Have clemency, brother! I am still weary from last evening’s battle against the Mac Feltin.”
“Ha!” he retorted. “You fought no harder than I did, and I left the hall with my sling just as our victory horns sounded.”
Little did he know that my role in battle and the events that caused it lay at the very core.
Gwytheyrn’s workshop is where it all began just the night before. Having been under his mentorship since
My teacher and role model just presented everything I toiled so hard for and desired right at my feet. As a rare smile crept across his grizzled face, I finally returned to reality and gleefully accepted.
“Excellent.” Gwytheyrn said. “Let us go! Ask Judoc to prepare a feast for all of Amoorhi to celebrate his momentous day. Have Aedh come and-”
The Mac Feltin’s harrowing war cry interrupted the planning. A few of the sentry cús then raced by ferociously barking, their heavy leather leashes leaving a trail lit only by the moon. Gwytheyrn and I grabbed our swords and followed the trail to scour the tuath for intruders. It wasn’t until we met and joined a search party led by Aedh that someone saw a mysterious silhouette behind a home.
“If you wish to return home alive, you will not move,” Gwytheyrn stated in a tone nearly shaking with rage. The rival warrior slowly turned to face us. A sinister grin was fixed upon her face, yet she gripped her sword so that her knuckles turned white.
“I’m sorry. Is this not the house of my brother? He’s a kind fellow. About yea high-.” Aedh lost his