This was long overdue. Niamh sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace, surrounded by various cuttings from her herb garden, several offcuts of red flannel, and a bowl in which three lengths of string were soaking in the home-brew she hadn't yet told Brishen the location of.
She was muttering to herself as she threaded her needle with green wool, repeating the words of an old spell her mother had taught her when she was a child. A spell to imbue a charm bag with the power to protect the one who held it. She and her sisters had been given them as children, but her own had been lost in the Nexus-pull that had brought her to RhyDin. She should have recreated it a long time ago.
Clever fingers worked the needle and thread through red flannel, sewing together three little bags. Thread the same shade of crimson as the bags themselves was threaded into the needle, and she began the painstaking work of embroidering initials onto the little bags. An L ... a B ... an N. The lengths of string were removed from the poitin and hung over the mantel to dry as she began to sort through the various herbs and spices she had collected together.
Bay leaves, comfrey root, eucalyptus, sage, marjoram, mint, and cinnamon ... each was separated, blessed against her lips with a whispered prayer to her Goddess, and dropped into the bags, an equal amount for each. The alcohol soaked strings were brought down and threaded carefully to tie the bags tight shut.
She laid them before the fire, her hands hovering over the little flannel bags as she drew in a deep breath, calling on the power within her as well as the Goddess she revered.
"In the shadows, evils hide,
Ready to draw us from love?s side,
But with Your help we will be strong
And banish all that do us wrong
Send them away, send them astray
Never again to pass our way,
By Lady's light, by three times' three
As Thou will, so mote it be."
The spell was ancient, one she had never known not to work. With the addition of her own power, she felt a sneaking certainty that the bags were now truly, closely bound to herself, and to those she loved more than any other here on RhyDin. Her fingers stroked over the near invisible initials. For Lilli ... for Brishen ... for herself ...
Late or not, a little extra protection never did anyone any harm.
She was muttering to herself as she threaded her needle with green wool, repeating the words of an old spell her mother had taught her when she was a child. A spell to imbue a charm bag with the power to protect the one who held it. She and her sisters had been given them as children, but her own had been lost in the Nexus-pull that had brought her to RhyDin. She should have recreated it a long time ago.
Clever fingers worked the needle and thread through red flannel, sewing together three little bags. Thread the same shade of crimson as the bags themselves was threaded into the needle, and she began the painstaking work of embroidering initials onto the little bags. An L ... a B ... an N. The lengths of string were removed from the poitin and hung over the mantel to dry as she began to sort through the various herbs and spices she had collected together.
Bay leaves, comfrey root, eucalyptus, sage, marjoram, mint, and cinnamon ... each was separated, blessed against her lips with a whispered prayer to her Goddess, and dropped into the bags, an equal amount for each. The alcohol soaked strings were brought down and threaded carefully to tie the bags tight shut.
She laid them before the fire, her hands hovering over the little flannel bags as she drew in a deep breath, calling on the power within her as well as the Goddess she revered.
"In the shadows, evils hide,
Ready to draw us from love?s side,
But with Your help we will be strong
And banish all that do us wrong
Send them away, send them astray
Never again to pass our way,
By Lady's light, by three times' three
As Thou will, so mote it be."
The spell was ancient, one she had never known not to work. With the addition of her own power, she felt a sneaking certainty that the bags were now truly, closely bound to herself, and to those she loved more than any other here on RhyDin. Her fingers stroked over the near invisible initials. For Lilli ... for Brishen ... for herself ...
Late or not, a little extra protection never did anyone any harm.