A New Member of the Family
After all that had passed thus far in me story, and me grandkids havin' slept through a bit of it, I thought it best to summarise for 'em a bit...
'Ten years had passed in our story since it first began,' I says. 'Beannaithe were now fourteen years of age. It would not be long before she'd be fully grown, relatively speakin'.'
'What's that mean?' asked Darowva.
'Ah, well, uh, she's no longer a wee lass in terms of years. She's more of a, um, lass. Before too long she'd be able to have wee lasses...
'Or lads,' added Diolun.
'...yes, or lads of her own,' I explained.
'Ye mean she could become a mam?' said Darowva.
'That's right,' I said, 'but it would still be another twenty years at the least.'
'That seems like a very long time,' said Daibhidh.
'Very near forever,' added Diolun.
I laughed. Wee lads and lasses view a span of time far differently than we older folk.
'Aye, lad, it would be awhile yet before she'd have babbers of her own,' I said.
'So what happens next? Did Beannaithe rejoin her family? Did she become a farmer like them, or did she become the new village blacksmith?' asks Diolun.
'Did the Dwarf die?' asks Daibhidh.
'And how's her mam? She seemed awfully upset,' asks Darowva.
'Ye were awake for that bit?' I asks her.
'Aye, through most of it,' she answers.
'Well, me wee darlin's, if ye let me continue the story all your questions will be answered,' says I.
'All right,' a few of me grandkids mumbled.
'Although it took some time for Beannaithe to become accustomed to her new family's manner of speakin', their strange words and pronunciation, she quickly adapted to life on a farm. She enjoyed playin' in the garden, diggin' in the dirt with her grandfather, smellin' the flowers and the trees, listenin' to the singin' of the birds, and chasin' the butterflies.'
'Beannaithe's mother were overjoyed at her young daughter's return. Beannaithe's aunties were pleased to have another lass in the household, her lass cousin even more so. Her lad cousins far less.
Beannaithe's lad cousins thought her rather strange and, perhaps, a bit frightenin'. Although they'd never admit it to anyone, of course. They tried to bully her, but their efforts came to naught. Beannaithe were, despite her size, quite a grappler. This skill she had learnt from Fikta the Dwarf.
Beannaithe's grandfather the farmer had taken away her pair of daggers with the promise that he'd return 'em when she were older. The farmer's grandsons were very thankful for that. It were embarrassin' enough that their younger cousin, and a lass at that, were stronger than they. How much more frightenin' would she be with a dagger in both fists!'
'Good for Beannaithe!' cried Darowva. Her cousins looked at her menacin'ly. Darowva blew a raspberry to mock them.
'That'll be enough,' I said.
'That'll be enough, indeed,' said me daughter Ériu. 'This lot is goin' to bed.'
'Come,' said Banba to Daibhidh. Takin' her hand, the lad reluctantly followed his mam to his bed.
Fódla scooped up sleepin' Beacha in her arms and carried the wee lass to bed.
'Good night, me wee darlin's,' I said with a smile of relief. Their fightin' were becomin' quite tiresome for this weary seanduine ("old person").
