The Old Man from Over the Sea

Valeria shuddered under the coarse linen blanket, clutching it up to her chin with tight white knuckled fists as lightening glistened bright in the dark night sky and thunder drummed through the earth. The wind restlessly moaned, throwing rain across the flimsy window shutters sounding like fingertips peppering melodies of anxious clatter over the wood—ready to break in at any time. Normally Valeria could handle the storms, she’d grown up on the seafront, fished with her father and bathed in the ocean which ran blue through her blood. But when the tides and sky shook and rocked with the fierce iron grasp of God’s fury, it terrified her down to the marrow in her bones.

A edgy knock on the door shook her out of her dread. Valeria darted her gaze to it, frozen stiff in her bed. She watched the door rattle, feeling a nervous quake in the pit of her stomach. "Someone, please, is anyone home? Please." The voice battled through hard the rain as the raps whacked faster and harder like drums on the door.

Valeria rose from the bed, wrapping herself in her own embrace as the cold night’s breath whispered down her spine. Cautiously, she skulked towards the door as if somehow the stranger might barge their way through the door at any moment. Fingers trembling on the handle, she drew open the door, throwing up her arms to shield herself from the harsh rain as it sprayed inside the house.

Standing there soaked to the bone in the dim glow of the flickering beacon torches was an old man. To Valeria he looked in his eightieth year, his long grey beard dangled from his tall arched jowls like a damp twisted rope, hanging over a black cloak that veiled over his hunched crooked shoulders, shrouding his eyes from the bloom of the torches.

"Hello madam, may I come in? I was to sail home but the tides are too strong to sail, and I find myself with no shelter for the night." The old man's voice cracked as he shouted over the wind and rain, struggling to stay on his feet from its viciousness.

"Yes, yes of course please come in." Valeria stepped aside, propping the door open with her foot.

"Ceridwen, come on girl!" The old man called to the sky as a barn owl emerged from its darkness, resting itself on the old man’s shoulder. The pair ushered in past her, feeling his way around room till he felt the stool and sat himself down beside the murky hearth.

Valeria retched the door closed, wiping her brow of the icy rain and couldn't help but stand in awe and a bit of fear at the creature looming on the old man's shoulder. The old man must have sensed her stillness—or fear—because he looked up in her direction, smiling a wide toothless grin which lurched Valeria's heart.

"Oh, please don't be startled," he paused patting the barn owl's wing. "Ceridwen here is my eyes. I unfortunately lost my vision many moons ago to old age, I suppose. I'd be even more lost than I already am without her."

"Sorry," Valeria blushed an uneasy rose, "I've just never seen such a creature before. I'll light a fire." Valeria said with trepidation, slowly walking on tiptoes towards the hearth as to not alarm the barn owl. She knelt down on both knees, striking a rod of iron against a piece of flint rock, igniting a small rolling fire over the crisp charred wood.

She staggered from the hearth, sitting herself down at the weathered wooden table away from the old man and his feathered companion, not knowing yet if she could trust him. As he took off his hood, she watched him closely in the darkness, observing every wrinkle and groove in his sad face hollowed out by age, lit ominously by the vivid embers of the crackling fire as he warmed his tarnished hands against the fever of the flames.

"Thank you for this," he murmured breaking the silence, smiling faintly to the flames. "I tried three houses before I came upon yours, and you're the only one who cared to shed me a bit of kindness."

"It is my pleasure really, I can never sleep when the weather is like this. It's nice to have some company to see it pass with." Valeria swallowed loudly, wondering if she'd revealed too much. This wasn't like her, but she knew her father would have been proud of her courage.

The old man shifted on the stool, turning his foggy grey gaze towards Valeria as if he knew she was far away. He stroked the barn owl's wet wing as he spoke. "For a long time I felt that way about the sea. The sea had carried those devils across the foam and waves, so that they could take away everything that was precious and dear to me." The old man paused with a sigh. A flush of pain replaced his smile as his hand fell from the barn owl. "For a long time even looking at water in a mug was too painful. But after time had passed I knew I had to leave, face my fear and carry on. So I left over the sea."

The cold shook Valeria. "What devils?"

"The men from the north. They came on many fleets of the strongest boats carrying the most brutal of men that I'd ever seen. They came like thieves in the night in the echo of raging horns and blowing winds, pillaging everything of ours like if we'd been merchants with our livelihood for sale. Our food, livestock and gold. They burnt down our villages, killed those courageous enough to fight back and they—" tears glassed like golden rivers in the old man's eyes, threatening to run "—they took my daughter, Niamh."

The men of the north. Valeria had heard about the Northmen, but only in stories that her father had told her, which in turn had been passed down to him from his father who'd lived through their reign. He'd told her tales about their exploits and lore which had terrified her little heart as a young girl. But the one he'd always spun to her the most, his favourite, was of the Battle of Clontarf, when Brian Boru had driven the Northmen out of Ireland—one hundred years ago.

She shook away the thought. "That's terrible." Valeria felt a dull ache grow in her heart. She knew his pain. She'd lost her family many years ago, but she knew that that could never sum up to the pain of loosing a child.

"Yes, yes. That's why I came here, to look for her. Perhaps one of these times that I come back, maybe just maybe, they'll give my Niamh back to me." The barn owl bowed its head to the old man's ear, cooing a soft hoot. He twisted on the stool as it creaked under the weight, glancing towards Valeria. "Please come join me, Ceridwen won't bite."

Valeria managed a small chuckle as she stood and carried her stool to join the old man, resting it beside the fire and sat as the flames danced across her face like molten gold. Her toes and fingers began to tingle from the warmth, as Ceridwen began to shake and hoot frenetically on the old man's shoulder.

Valeria gasped letting out a tiny scream, shooting up from the stool as her heart pounded thunderously inside her ears. The old man hissed, raising his hand to Ceridwen, instantly calming the barn owl as he stared incredulously up at Valeria, as if he'd seen a ghost through the blinding fog.

"No, this can not be." His words dragged slowly out of his thin lips as he rose. Ceridwen hooted again as the old man slowly approached Valeria. She looked into his eyes, perchance seeing a simmer of bright blue glisten in the pools of grey. Her breath stilled as he came face-to-face with her, holding out his shivery hands in front of her chin. "May I?" He asked.

Valeria nodded, feeling as if somehow the old man could now see. Like a stagnant part of him had suddenly been awoken from its deep slumber. What had the barn owl said to him?

The old man’s warm palms sent shivers down her arms as her cold cheeks thawed from his touch. She stood motionless, eyeing Ceridwen's heaving soft white chest as the bird glared down at her with wary black eyes while the old man’s fingers traced her prominent cheekbones then over her eyelids. As she opened her eyes, she watched tears strum down his hollow cheeks as his fingers moved over her ears then tangled through her long black curls that draped over her small shoulders. The old man let out a joyous sob, wrapping Valeria in his arms sending Ceridwen fleeing from her post.

"Niamh, Niamh you've come back," he said in between sobs, "they finally gave you back to me."

Valeria found herself nearly lifted off of her feet, as her heart raced in a panicked sadness. She knew she wasn't his Niamh, she was Valeria Ó Murchadha, daughter of a seaman named Cormac and a mother who'd been gone too soon for her to have met. But as the old man's arms squeezed her bones tight, she chose to remain silent and pretend, hoping that it would bring the old man's tired heart some kind of comfort.

"Yes, yes they did." How it hurt her to lie.

The old man released her from his embrace, holding her by the shoulders as his smoky irises looked her up and down. "Now I know why the others never answered their doors. They knew you were here." He smiled a smile like Valeria had never seen, a smile that spread from one corner of the earth to the other, upturned in a curl that curled so high to hug eyes of flowing endearment. "How I wish I could see you. To see how you've grown."

The old man sighed and bowed his silver head, then turned away from Valeria and strode to the door adjusting his damp cloak. Valeria looked away from him, scanning the room for the bird but to her shock Ceridwen had disappeared from the house, swept back into the shadowed darkness as she had once appeared.

The old man cleared his throat, grasping on tightly to the door handle. "Shall we go home, Niamh?"

Valeria felt her stomach drop to her toes. If the old man was serious about sailing in these conditions she'd surely meet the same demise that had befallen her father on that night. Swallowed whole by the fierce crippling jaws of the sea. She swallowed down the fear, pushing down the acid which rose up her throat. Was she doing the right thing? Feeding into the old man's delusion that she was his daughter? The thought battled in her mind till her strength outweighed her fear, which persuaded her to carry on, thinking of the old man’s heart breaking smile. But she had to try. "In this weather... father? Surely we should wait till morning."

"The waves can not hurt me no more, now that I have found you, Niamh. I am ready."

Valeria nearly forgot to breath as the words echoed through her ears; her nails squeezing half moons into her palms. She knew she couldn't change his mind, not now. She'd gone too far. Valeria exhaled and took her cloak from the ragged wardrobe, draping it over her shoulders and lifted the hood to cover her head and walked to the old man.

"Ready." Her voice cracked as she patted the old man’s shoulder.

A harsh squall of freezing rain gusted in from the south, chilling a frothy veil of ice against her nose as the old man opened the door. Valeria took his frail arm into hers, mercilessly seizing the cloak shut against her chest with pale fists, bowing her head against the wind as they walked out into the dark bleak night, towards the perilous unruly sea.

The icy waters crawled across Valeria's bare numb toes, sending a crippling shiver through her veins as the pair strode towards the border of the strand. The old man grew silent, gazing out to the restless crashing tides glittering under the shadow of the waning moonlight. They stopped and he sighed turning to her, looking deep into her eyes. He mouthed, "Home."

They took slow steps into the stirring sea, each step she sunk deeper and deeper into the sand as her heart sunk even deeper into her chest. What am I doing? She thought, as the waves crashed against her knees, rising high with the wind, sending plumes of sea foam to cake at the hem of her dress. The sky growled, whirling a flash of blinding light that lit up the dark sea, shaking a fear inside Valeria's heart that blurred her eyes as a heaving wave rose from the depths of the sea's underbelly, hurling itself ruthlessly towards Valeria and the old man.

Valeria braced herself, taking a deep breath—praying to her father to save her from this fever dream. The towering waves were so close now that Valeria could taste the salt in the misty air. Before she could finish her prayer the waves clashed against her belly, knocking her off of her feet as the old man’s body shattered into rain, and the sea carried him away.

Three months later Valeria had found Niamh’s grave. Her name carved in faint jagged letters down a wooden cross along a row of many others; seeped deep in the vegetation of a stair hill near the Giant’s Causeway. Once she retuned home from her journey, Valeria inked the coordinates on a piece of parchment and shoved it inside a jar. She threw the jar into the sea, hoping that when the old man came back from over the sea to look for his daughter again, he could now truly find his lost daughter and rest his lost tired soul.

And the old man did find her. Ten years later on the very eve that Valeria had met the old man, Valeria stood at the window watching the dawning horizon with a daughter of her own nestled around her waist. They watched the calm deep blue tides wash over the coral sands as the spirits of the old man and young raven haired girl walked hand in hand into the sea, becoming one with the waves.