Chapter 4.3: Emerald Isle
Norway knew where he was going, he needed to have these problems addressed.
In his nightly dreams were always images of verdant hills, yellow flowers on unending grassy meadows. Perhaps this was where Ireland wanted to lead him to.
.
.
As the ship arrived, the scenery in Norway's eyes was like that of yesterday, the day he set the place on fire. Former coastal towns were now nothing but small houses nestling beside heaps of ruins. What had he done? Ireland had to be found, before all became too late.
"IRELAND! IRELAND! Where are you? IRELAND!!!!"
At the destination, human life was nowhere in sight, but only grass, flowers and friendly harmless animals. Where could Ireland be? Did he really... disappear?
"IRELAND!" Norway cried.
I hear your voice on the wind
And I hear you call out my name.
That was the song, the song in his dream, the boy couldn't be too far away. Norway followed the mellifluous voice.
"Listen, my child," you say to me
"I am the voice of your history
Be not afraid, come follow me
Answer my call, and I'll set you free".
The Norwegian visitor noticed a boy sitting under a tree. Red hair, with a lyre... that must be him. He kept singing and singing... Norway approached.
"Eire?" he called.
The music stopped. "Hello, Norway. I didn't think you would come."
"Are you... fine?"
"Fine? I can't remember the last time feeling 'fine'... You see, I'm now nothing but a feeble child between nature." Ireland gave the other a faint smile.
"Why do you want to see me?" asked Norway.
"I don't know. I can't explain why I thought of you either. Isn't it likely that you left such a strong impression? I have no idea about this. Just want to meet one last time before vanishing, that's all." the redhead sighed.
"Vanish? How can you say such a thing? A nation just can't cease to exist that easily!"
"Why not? There's almost nothing left on this territory. Everything's smashed, no one wants to live here anymore."
Norway grabbed Ireland's shoulders. "Don't bear that thought. Your people are still here, as long as they're present, then your hope shall prevail. You can't give in that quickly, and if you do, I will pull you up."
"You? You want to help me?" Ireland got confused. "What makes such a barbarian like you offer me help?"
"The same reason as why you led me here." Norway smiled.
Ireland didn't reply. His green eyes focused on a lake nearby, whose crystal-clear surface glimmered beneath glorious sunshine, bathing the sceneries surrounding it in a subtle watery light.
"This place's magnificent, isn't it Norway?" Ireland gave the other a warm smile. His beautiful voice again rose in the air.
I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain
I am the voice of your hunger and pain
I am the voice that always is calling you
I am the voice, I will remain.
I am the voice in the fields when the summer's gone
The dance of the leaves when the autumn winds blow
Ne'er do I sleep thoughout all the cold winter long
I am the force that in springtime will grow.
Norway's mind was submerged in the miraculous music, as he continued the song.
I am the voice of the past that will always be
Filled with my sorrow and blood in my fields
I am the voice of the future, bring me your peace
Bring me your peace, and my wounds, they will heal.
.
.
Emerald Isle. Nobody knew the origin of the nation's poetic title. Someone assumed it was the boundless green meadows of his home. Another thought of some hidden gemstone beneath those layers of soil. Though no one could assert an answer, Norway had a strong belief in his eyes – the emerald eyes that aroused people's curiosity, the eyes in which concealed a stunning beauty.
.
.
Ireland's condition was getting much better. The locals had brightened up on this land, where life once again blossomed and flourished. Large populated towns soon took turns to mushroom, countless merchant vessels continuously docked and departed.
"Norway, hurry up, we have to build two more ships!" Ireland urged.
"Right, right, there's no need to rush!" Norway wondered if he was still the boss, now that the Irish boy was the one giving commands.
At least the Norse voyager had been free from worrying too much about him. The redhead was now able to handle himself, and set sail without involving in unnecessary conflicts. Another Viking for the crew would be great. So Norway came to his decision.
"Hey Eire, I've been away from sea for a while, it's time to continue on. Do you want to come along?"
"With you? To be a Viking?"
"Yes, it'd be awesome. I'm planning to visit Faroe, she misses you badly. Shall we?"
Ireland hesitated. Norway was a good friend, and he did miss little Faroe a lot. But, to become a Viking...
"I'm sorry, maybe I wasn't born to be a Viking. I love this place, and why should I leave when everything's on hand here?"
"Are you sure? Being a sailor is fun, drenched in sunshine, tasting salty ocean breeze, and meeting lots of people, even getting new houses if luck is on your side." Norway tried to persuade.
"No, I'll stay here, with too much love for my motherland." Ireland smiled. "But I can sail to Faroe's if I want, just not now. Will you help me send some presents to her, and tell her I'll be there soon?"
"If you say so... I'll go alone. What a pity... but don't ever regret." said Norway, saddened by his friend's final decision.
"Of course not, I'm a man of his words."
Norway then hoisted his sail again. Despite gaining little from his stay, at least the chains of immense distress inside his heart were now broken.
Author's note:
The song of Ireland in the chapter is "The Voice" by Celtic Woman.
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