I've been doing my own 30 day Lunar Cycle Challenge, which some of you may have seen on my instagram or facebook pages, and the prompt yesterday, Day 21, was Write a Moon Myth or Legend.
So I was inspired by finding out that my great grandmother Lily had a streak of pure silver right above her right eye like I do. I'm not very like that side of Mum's family in height or build, temperament or looks, but as the years unfold, there is clearly a very strong link between us , which I wanted to honour, so I give you...
The Girl With The Moon In Her Hair
Aelin lived with her tribe in the valley below the standing stones, which their ancestors had raised many generations ago when they still wandered the world with the great herds. It was there that they had laid their own dead to rest in the cool, dark earth. Those days had long passed. Now the people lived upon the land, tending crops and keeping animals.
They were a close-knit people. Everyone was kin, and every evening they gathered around the fire beneath the bright stars and Lady Moon. There, with the whole family seated together, Aelin listened to her grandmother Edda and the other Elders tell the familiar tales of the old days, when the Gods and Goddesses walked the earth.
Of all things, Aelin loved the stillness of the night most. She would lie awake listening to the rustle of the trees and the calls of the creatures that lived among them, comforted by the warmth of the longhouse and the glow of the fire. Her favourite part of the night however, when everyone else had fallen asleep and the fire had faded to glowing embers. Then she would creep outside and stand beneath Lady Moon, feeling her pale light upon her skin.
During the daylight hours, the girls of the tribe gathered firewood, foraged for berries, and fetched water from the streams that wound through the valley. Sometimes they helped their mothers grind grain on the quern, especially when there was to be a feast for the changing seasons or when Lady Moon was full. It was tiring work, but Aelin loved the gentle rhythm of the stone and the songs they sang together.
As midsummer approached, the work grew hotter still. One morning, while taking her turn at the quern, Aelin pushed a lock of sweaty hair from her face.
“Oh, Aelin!” shouted her cousin Tarin. “You’ve got flour in your hair. You look like an old woman!”
Everyone burst into laughter, and even Aelin laughed as clouds of dust rose around them. It was hot, messy work.
When the grain had been ground, Aelin went down to the river and sank into the cold, clear water, washing away the dust before returning to the longhouse she shared with her family. To her annoyance, her brother Tusk pointed out that part of her hair was still white.
She combed and combed with the antler comb her father had carved for her, but the white mark remained.
Soon Tusk and Tarin were shouting for all to hear.
“Grandmother! Old Woman!”
Their teasing set everyone laughing, and Aelin’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.
At last Grandmother Edda silenced them with a sharp word.
The old woman came close and gently ran her fingers through Aelin’s hair. Turning her granddaughter's ace toward the setting sun, she smiled to herself and muttered softly, as she often did.
Edda was one of the tribe’s Elders. Like her mother before her, and her mother’s mother before that, she was keeper of secrets and guardian of the ancient stones where the old ones slept. Often she wandered alone beneath the stars when Lady Moon rode high, and though the tribe respected her, many feared her a little too.
“What is it, Grandmother?” whispered Aelin.
But Edda only kissed her cheek.
“Pay them no heed, child,” she said with a smile.
Twice more that week Aelin went to the river to wash her hair, but the strange mark would not fade, in fact it seemed to grow longer. Looking into the water, she could see it clearly—a long silver streak among her chestnut hair.
The teasing only grew worse.
“Grandmother! Old Lady!”
Embarrassed, Aelin hid her hair beneath her cloak and kept to herself whenever she could
.
This Midsummer was a real cause for celebration, Father Sun was high in the sky, and the dark nights were short, and the hot hazy days were long, with the livestock laying lazily in their enclosure and the crops tall in the fields. Edda who had spent the nights of the previous dark moon consulting the ancestors high on the hill in their burial chambers, alone with them and her bone stones, told the tribe that this Midsummer Eve, Lady Moon would be at her brilliant fullness too and she foretold a message from the ancestors, so a great feast was to be prepared, and the fires would burn all through the night and into the dawn as the whole tribe celebrated.
That night the flames leapt high while the tribe feasted upon roast boar, fresh river fish, fruits, and loaves made from the grain they had worked so hard to grind. When all were full, they gave thanks to the Gods and Goddess and sang the old songs of their ancestors, each family singing their own unique song of past times, and told the stories of those who went before, whilst others drummed their memories into life around the flames.
Even Aelin forgot to hide her silver streak of hair as she listened entranced to the well-loved stories and songs, feeling her own bones sing at the remembrance of the ancient ones.
At last the stories ended.
Edda rose slowly to her feet and struck her staff upon the ground.
Silence fell.
“Family of my heart and body,” she called. “Family of my land. The ancestors have sent us a message.”
Everyone settled down quietly, waiting for the message.
“Through countless nights I have sat with Lady Moon and the stars for company, seeking wisdom from those who came before us. They have given their love and guidance to all who live here.”
Nods and murmurs passed around the fire.
“My bones grow old, and my heart tells me that the time has come for another guardian to begin their learning—to remember the names, to keep the songs, and to pass them on. I asked the old ones for a sign.”
Around the fire, people sat straighter. Some drew their cloaks tighter. Everyone waited for her to continue.
Slowly, Edda lowered her hood, and her long silver hair fell loose around her shoulders, and down her back.
“The Goddess and Lady Moon have filled me with their wisdom, and now it is time for me to pass it on.”
Every eye was upon her as she walked slowly around the fire. She looked at each member of the tribe in turn. Some swallowed nervously as she lingered near them. Round and round she went before finally stopping.
She turned and looked directly at Aelin.
“The Goddess and Lady Moon marked me as their own with the magic of moonlight”
Aelin felt every gaze turn toward her.
“I asked the old ones for a sign, and they have answered. They have chosen. They have sent the moonlight to my granddaughter.”
Aelin looked into her grandmother’s eyes and saw love and pride.
Slowly, she stood.
Smiling, she pushed back her chestnut hair so that all could see the silver streak shining brightly in the firelight.
For a heartbeat there was a stunned silence.
Then a mighty cheer rose around the fire.
“Aelin! Aelin!”
Aelin lifted her head proudly and spoke with a voice clear and strong:
“Yes, Grandmother. I am Aelin, the Girl with the Moon in My Hair.”
Words by me, Image AI at my instruction!
