Mixing your drinks, you hope for maximum effect and a nice forgetful stupor. First wine, then beer, then a stiff mixed drink, follow with a shot of tequila, indulge your self in a sweet sissy drink and then enjoy another draught of wine. Finally, mercifully, reality blurs.
Memories fade, pain dulls and sweet forgetfulness comes calling. Walking out into the cold night air, you seek a breath of freshness to fill your lungs with life. Whoever planned this party, is a kindred spirit to you, for the night air dances with the light of a roaring fire, just off of the edge of the deck.
You walk closer to enjoy it’s warmth and as you step off of the deck, you see that the fire pit is sheltered under a huge and ancient oak tree. The warmth of the fire spreads over your body and the soothing magic buried deep in your sister oak infiltrates your soul. In dark shadows, you feel invisible to those at the party, even the few that wander out onto the deck, can’t see you nestled deep in the safety of darkness.
Your eyes slowly adjust to the dimness and as they do, you are startled to discover you aren’t alone. On the other side of the fire, hidden even deeper in the shadows of the tree and away from the illumination of the flickering flames, stands a tall and powerful man.
You can tell he is powerful. He exudes strength and power, control and mastery of all around him. Odd, you think to yourself, that you can see he is so powerful, hidden in the shadows. Slowly, it dawns on you, you can’t see he is powerful, you feel it, you sense it deep within your core.
It isn’t merely physical power, it is much, much more than that. It emanates from him, much like the fire that touches the edges of darkness surrounding it. “Greetings, Sire”, you say softly to him. He nods to you in acknowledgment and you feel yourself being drawn closer to him. He, in his own curiosity, is beckoning you closer, without saying so much as a single word.
“Master, would you mind some company, I tire quickly of those inside and the conversation of the mundane fools is lulling me to sleep”. He once again, nods in the affirmative and you step closer to him. As you begin to make out his features, you see a dark face gazing back at you, eyes so dark that the seem to smolder.
---
Wisps of his long black hair flicker across his face in the night breeze. He wears a long black coat, buttoned all of the way to nearly his knees, the collar is upturned and frames his face perfectly.
Gazing across the flames at your newfound friend, you realize the flickering flames are making your eyes play tricks on you. He looks as if he is surrounded by heat waves. The air seems to dance around him. You again sense his power and your mind just now realizes you called him Master, that you had addressed him as Sire.
For a brief second, you feel foolish and hope he doesn’t think you daft, but then a realization dawns on you, that he is quite accustomed to such respect, in fact, he demands it.
You introduce yourself to him and make brief chitchat about the party and how wonderful the fire is, though you wish you had easier access to the drinks inside. “It would be a shame to let this buzz fade”, you say with a soft laugh. He reaches behind him, and produces a glass, which he slowly fills from an ancient and humble looking bottle.
“Drink this, little one, and it will bring life to your mind”. You take the glass and pass it under your nose, it is filled with a strong Scottish ale, and smells divine. Sipping gently, you taste the cool liquid and then smile as it warms your body and ignites your mind.
“Very nice, Sire. Many thanks to you”. He waves a hand as if to say, it is nothing and you stand there in the night sipping the ale.
In a low, rumbling voice, he says “my name is Iompróir an Bás , welcome to my fire, welcome to my night”. You have a curious mind, so, not being able to resist, you query as to the meaning of his name. In his low, very quiet voice, he tells you it is of Gaelic origin and is an ancient name.
Wishing to know more, you are about to ask for a translation to English, when you see a look in his eyes that dissuades you from doing so. Chills run up and down the length of your spine and the hair on your neck stands crackling with electricity. You are aware enough of his presence, to wonder if the chills are from the cool night air, or elsewhere.
Far off in the distance, the howl of a wolf floats gently on the night breeze. The faint hint of a smile crosses his face and his eyes close as he leans his head back. He seems lost for a moment, almost as if he isn’t even there any longer and then he lowers his head and looks slyly at you.
---
"You were perhaps expecting me to answer the beast?" He says in that odd rumbling voice of his. This time though, his voice carries a merry sound of mirth and amusement.
You laugh softly and shake your head to and fro as if to say “of course not, how silly”, but inside you know you were indeed, afraid he was going to reply to the animal, so far away in the darkness. Nervous, you take a few more sips of the heady brew he gave you and let the curtain of silence give your mind a moment to rest.