“What’s that?” asked Oatey.

“Nothing. . .” Lugh lied, “a gift that I’ve kept and I’m not sure why.”  Because it is my lodestone, my guiding star and I’d not know what to do if I didn’t have them.  Lugh restrung and resettled them around his neck where they rode over his heart.  “Well, what’s for breakfast?”

“Porridge, ’tis my custom.” She explained, smiled shyly, “But I have fruit too, and this scramble of eggs and herbs and meat.  Probably that’s more to your liking . . .”

“Don’t be too sure.” said Lugh, but in the end he did eat most of the eggs and only a little of the porridge.  They talked lightly of nothing at all, teasing about her room, she telling him that he had a guestroom not far, fruits favored and not, but they both fell silent when family came up.

When the silence grew painful he broke it, “This was a wonderful breakfast, thank you Oatey.” He smiled at her and she blushed prettily.

Oatey fidgeted, Lugh thought she had something she wanted to say so he hesitated.  She looked up, but finding his eyes on her she immediately looked down and then away.  “It isn’t our custom for a man and woman to be alone without . . .”

“Breakfast? Egg scramble? let me guess, books?”

Oatey blushed, “. . . I mean unattended, without chaperon . . .”

“Oh, well I can’t imagine that does anything good for your folk having children . . .”

That made her laugh, “No, I mean unmarried men and women of course.” The bed they shared last night was their table to eat breakfast and it told him about her seriousness that she slipped off and walked toward the door. ”It is thought dishonorable.”

“Ah, is it?” Lugh grabbed a piece of fruit he didn’t want and took a bite, “mmmm, well which of us is dishonored and which dishonorable?”

“I don’t care what they think,” Oatey said defiantely, she looked him in the eye, “They care nothing for me anyhow.  I only mention it so that you know what they may say of you, what they already think of me.”

Lugh couldn’t suppress the laugh that burst out, but he hurried to apologize when he saw Oatey look so hurt, “No no no, It isn’t you sweet.  It is just that my reputation is far worse than yours could possibly be, and I’ve earned mine.”

He thought she might disolve into tears, but when she looked up she surprised him again with her fierceness, “You don’t know what they think of me.  Some think that I might even be the giant wife I pretend to be to lure the giants to be killed.  All think me strange, and I am.  I would never want to be like them.”

Lugh wasn’t sure what to say, “I don’t think you’re a giant wife . . .”

Oatey laughed humorlessly, “. . . But you think me strange.” She turned away from his gaze, “It’s alright, I am strange, that and more.”

Concubar sat brooding on his throne with Cathbad hovering close, ”The Little Fellow is my son as strange as that might seem.  Perhaps time is not the same in Muirthemne, perhaps Fand is no human woman, though she seemed to have all the parts and no extras. . .”

“Is that what concerns you Concubar?” hissed Cathbad, “Really?  Her parts?  Do you realize your situation?  Now you have a son, but no wife.  This, this is a catastrophe!”

“Don’t you think that he’ll do well enough in the boy’s troop?” Asked Concubar.  “He seems a canny enough lad,” Concubar beamed proudly.

“Do you know nothing of the law then, oh king?” Cathbad fumed, “You have no wife, no marriage contract, and yet you have a son?  Tell me, what proof have you that this son of yours was not the product of rape?  Hmmm?  Have you thought about what he can demand of you?  What his portion shall be?

“Come now, you don’t think the Little Fellow is such a schemer, do you?”

“It is not the boy, it is the mother, the fairy woman, this Fand.  Who knows, what do you know about Muirthemne?  What will he ask for dishonoring his daughter?  What will you give for it?”

Concubar growled, “Do you think me a raper?  Look, she offered.  If this Muirthemne says otherwise it is he that lies.  Say, if he is a king then all the better.  It was a union of equals.  Look, you know me, it was freely offered and freely taken.”

Cathbad sighed, “It is not what he says or she says or you say or most particularly what actually was or was not in fact.  It matters not.  What matters is this Son, it is that he is.  What will he cost you? 

“He is just a boy. . .”

Have you thought what it will cost us?  You have no idea nor can you, and we your people all stand in the balance.  It is not wise to meddle with fairy folk. . .”

“Don’t I know it!  Why do you insist on beating me about the head with it Cathbad?  I know it!” 

“You should not have. . .”

“Get out!  I don’t need to know what I should not have done.  Now I need to know what’s to be done.  Find the brehon and figure it out.  Do your job and figure out what’s to be done now.”

“As you say. . .”

“Now get out!”

Cathbad bowed and scurried for the door.

“Don’t come back without the wisdom you say I lack Cathbad, and not one more word about Fand to me.”

I am the mother of my people.  I am the chief of my clan.  I fought Gloona and beat her until she yielded.  I led our females to drive off the rouge, Mulak, when he killed Peltook.  I faced him and drove him off.  But Gloona was too proud until I beat her.

I am the mother.  I wish there was no need for males, no need for a mate, but we need young to grow strong.  We still raise Peltook’s last brood.  Moogat, the witch, says I should eat them as many mothers do when they rise.  This I will not do.

Our males are too young or I would choose from them and chase away the rest.  I must choose between two bad paths.  I must go to other clans and take a mate or I must find a band of ogres, bachelors who may or may not have gone mad with blood lust.

I am now mother.  I mate, but I will keep no mate.  Moogat warns that this is not the path of wisdom.  Moogat talks and talks, but I see no wisdom in her words.  Her council is empty.  Moogat talks to Gloona too and I know some of the words.

Perhaps I will chase Moogat and Gloona out of the clan like we chase off the old males that like to kill the females and eat the young.  Sometimes smart and swift is better than strong.

It is strange that only the mother breeds.  Don’t we need more young?  What if every mature female was a mother and a clan was like a gathering of clans?

This I will think on.

This little snippet gives an idea of one small Gobli clan. I doubt seriously that they will think of themselves in terms that Tolkien did. Perhaps I will come up with something better, but in truth these creatures are a reflection of nightmare in a mind touched by the All Mind. If that mind thought in Tolkiensian terms then it is possible that they would be known by Tolkien’s names. Perhaps I can construct a better foundation. Anyhow, this is a start.