Random Quick Writes (RQW)

The Magic Spring of Dunemore

It was the last day of summer when Bran and Eoghan's journey began. The sun hung low over the sea, painting the sky with warm hues of orange and pink as it dipped behind the distant cliffs of Dunmore. The rolling hills of the Giant's Causeway stretched out before them, an endless expanse of green fields and ancient rocks that had seen centuries pass.

Bran, the older of the two, stood on the edge of their family's garden, his brow furrowed as he surveyed the patch of earth where their crops once stood tall and proud. Now, the stalks of barley were wilted, the potatoes too few to fill the empty spaces in their larder, and the turnips lay shriveled in the dry soil.

His younger brother, Eoghan, was already off running through the meadow, his golden hair catching the last rays of sunlight. At just six years old, Eoghan had a heart full of wonder and a mind full of dreams. Bran couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility that came with being the oldest. He was the one who had to make sure there would be food to last them through the coming winter. Their family had always relied on the harvest, but this year, it seemed the land had refused to share its bounty.

"Bran! Bran!" Eoghan's voice rang through the air, and Bran turned to see him approaching, a wide grin on his face.

"What is it now, Eoghan?" Bran asked, trying to hide the exhaustion in his voice.

"I heard something!" Eoghan exclaimed, his blue eyes shining with excitement. "Old Mrs. O'Leary told me about a magic spring, deep in the woods near the cliffs. It's said to make the crops grow like the spring rains!"

Bran raised an eyebrow. Mrs. O'Leary was known for her wild tales, full of faeries, leprechauns, and other fanciful creatures that filled Eoghan's imagination. He had heard the stories too, of course, but never took them seriously. The world was harsh and practical, and magic was something you only found in old books or forgotten legends. But Eoghan's belief was unwavering.

"Magic springs, faeries... Eoghan, we don't have time for stories," Bran said firmly. "We need to work, or we'll starve come winter."

"But Bran, what if it's true?" Eoghan's voice was full of hope. "What if we find it and bring it back? Then we could save the harvest!"

Bran hesitated. His heart tugged at the thought of finding something that could fix their troubles, but he wasn't one to believe in fairy tales. Still, the idea of losing everything to hunger was enough to make him reconsider.

"Fine," Bran said, sighing. "We'll go. But we're not getting distracted, Eoghan. We're only looking for that spring, and nothing else."

Eoghan bounced on his toes, already sprinting ahead, eager to begin their adventure.

*****

The path to the cliffs wound through dense groves of ancient trees, their trunks gnarled with age and their branches twisting like arms reaching for the sky. The air was thick with the scent of moss and earth, and the sound of birds calling echoed in the distance. As they walked, Eoghan led the way, his small feet skipping along the trail as he recounted every tale he'd heard about the magic spring.

"It's said to be guarded by a faerie queen," Eoghan said, his voice filled with awe. "She'll only let those who truly believe in magic drink from it."

Bran rolled his eyes, though he couldn't suppress a smile. "And how do you plan to get past the faerie queen?"

"I'll tell her I believe!" Eoghan said, puffing out his chest. "She'll see I'm sincere."

Bran chuckled. "You're more of a fool than I thought."

Despite his teasing, Bran found himself thinking about the stories of the spring. What if there was some truth in them? The land was struggling, and maybe, just maybe, this magical spring could be the answer.

As they reached the edge of the cliffs, the view was breathtaking. The sea stretched out like an endless sheet of silver, crashing against the jagged rocks below. The brothers stopped for a moment, taking in the beauty of the landscape. Eoghan, however, wasn't looking at the view. His eyes were focused on a narrow path leading down into the woods, half-hidden by vines and overgrown ferns.

"There," Eoghan said, pointing excitedly. "That's the way."

Bran followed his brother down the path, and soon they found themselves deep in the forest. The trees grew closer together, their shadows thickening the air until it felt like night had fallen early. The further they went, the more the forest seemed to hum with an energy that Bran couldn't explain. The leaves shimmered as if they were alive, and the wind whispered through the branches like a soft voice calling out to them.

It wasn't long before they came upon a clearing. At the center was a small, crystal-clear spring, its waters sparkling as if the sun had captured its light. Around the spring was a circle of ancient stones, weathered and worn, yet standing strong. The air felt different here—cooler, fresher, as if the world itself held its breath.

"Is this it?" Bran whispered, awestruck by the sight. Eoghan was already kneeling at the edge of the spring, his small hands hovering over the water.

"Look, Bran!" Eoghan said, pointing to something in the water. "There's something in there!"

At first, Bran couldn't see anything, but then he noticed a faint glow beneath the surface, like a heartbeat pulsing in the clear water. He stepped forward cautiously, but before he could speak, a voice rang out from behind them.

"Who dares disturb the waters of the Spring of Dunmore?"

Bran spun around, his heart leaping into his throat. Standing at the edge of the clearing was a tall figure, draped in a cloak of shimmering green, its face hidden in shadow. It was a woman, but there was something ethereal about her, something ancient. Her eyes glowed like the stars themselves.

"I—I'm sorry," Bran stammered, stepping protectively in front of Eoghan. "We didn't mean any harm. We were just looking for help for our family."

The woman tilted her head, studying them both with a gaze that seemed to pierce their very souls. Then, to Bran's surprise, she smiled.

"Your intentions are pure," she said, her voice like the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. "But magic is not to be taken lightly. The land has its balance, and it must be respected."

Eoghan, his voice barely a whisper, said, "We need your help. The harvest has failed, and our family is struggling. Please, can you help us?"

The woman's eyes softened. "The spring can give you what you seek, but you must promise one thing. You must take only what you need. The land will provide, but only if you respect the balance. To take more than is needed will upset the world's delicate harmony."

The brothers nodded eagerly, and the woman knelt beside the spring, cupping her hands to scoop the water. She handed it to Eoghan, who accepted it with reverence.

"Go now," she said, her voice warm but firm. "And remember the promise you've made."

*****

Back at their cottage, Bran and Eoghan sprinkled the water from the spring over the withered crops. At first, nothing seemed to change. But as the days passed, something magical began to happen. The earth grew softer, the plants grew taller, and the once-dying crops came to life. The fields were transformed, and the brothers marveled at the sight.

As winter approached, their family had more than enough food to last through the cold months. The village, too, saw their success and came to ask for the secret. Bran and Eoghan simply smiled and said, "The land provides, if you respect it."

And so, the brothers became heroes in the eyes of their village. The people celebrated their success with a feast, and Bran and Eoghan stood side by side, knowing they had done something far greater than they could have imagined.

As they walked along the cliffs the following spring, looking out at the endless sea, Bran turned to Eoghan and smiled.

"You were right," he said. "Sometimes, a little bit of magic is all it takes."

Eoghan grinned. "And sometimes, you just have to believe."

-*~Story ideas and credits to a dear friend of mine, Bélinda.~*-
Thanks for reading!