Ol' Moonshine was angry inside, the way Jackie was. Neither liked to talk about their demons, but they both drank them away. Jackie joined the church, but Moonshine ran a pub and inn. It was a decent place, and his inn was the place to exchange information, so it was often busy. Visitors were rare to the village, but when they arrived on occasion, his rooms were comfortable. Most men went there, though, for pints or for dice, usually both, and Moonshine was obliged to supply them. As a man of the church, Jackie was oppositely obliged to detest them, but a small part of why the villagers loved their friar so dearly was that he had the endearing- or terrible- habit of looking the other way without judging anything unless a person came to him freely with their confession. So, more often than not, the gentle friar was found at the Moonshine Inn- named for Moonshine's honey mead moonshine, the same place he got his nickname from- with his feet up on a table beside the huge fireplace, telling a story, or singing a song. He was the kind of drunk people preferred. Moonshine, though, well, he was mean when he was drunk, to anyone except for Jackie, and he was rarely sober. It wasn't often that anyone in the village remembered seeing him drink anything mild enough for a child.
Of course, though, angry or not, Moonshine was a God fearing man, and Jackie was entitled to all the drink he wanted. The night after Jackie buried Oona, he had more to drink than he usually did, and, as usual, stories followed. The common room was full that night, folks being curious about the days happenings, children refusing to sleep, since the days grew longer and warmer, and wives wanted to gossip.
"D'ye see them there dogs?" Jackie asked, his speech was slurred, and he gestured to two disheveled dogs lying lazily in front of the fire.
Before he spoke up, not a soul had been paying attention to him. But with the lilt of his voice, even the sleepiest of children, cheeks pressed to their mother's shoulders, sat up and readied themselves for a wonderful nugget of possible truth that Jackie might offer. Jackie stood, wobbling only slightly before going on.
"Have ye ever seen such a noble creature?" He bent to ruffle the kinky-curly hair on one of the dogs, who chuffed out his mustache and adjusted his position. "I mean, cats, well, they have their uses, and heaven knows I hold dearest my snow white Pangur Ban...but aren't they such evil things?" He looked around the room, meeting pairs of eyes. "Well aren't they?!" he demanded, a rumble of agreement shifted throughout the common room, and he stood once more, a pillar of charisma.
"Ye know, I don't think there's a better friend to man than a dog. Am I right? A man can beat his dog, starve the thing, and rope him to a tree- because, lets not be liars in the face of God, it has to be said that they can be dastardly. They dig, they chew, they leave...well, a show of hands if ye've never stepped in what they leave." His eyes looked over the room, very seriously, for even one hand raised. The room chuckled collectively.
"Of course ye'all have. But still, don't they love ye? Don't they lick yer face with the fervor of true love? Don't they keep yer feet warm midwinter, when it's cold enough te freeze the breath in yer lungs? And ne'er do they demand thanks, do they? Do ye see that wit' anythin' else? A cat, sure, he'll bring ye a mouse here or there, an' then what does he do? He expects a bit o' cream, or a pat on the head." Jackie shook his own head, and positioned himself in front of the fire. Women began to take their seats, children clustering on the floor in front of Jackie, and men stood along the walls.
"D'ye ever wonder what made them dogs so loyal?" Once more he expected an answer. "D'ye want te know?" The children clapped their hands in response, and Jackie nodded his balding head, and gripped the top rung of a ladder backed chair in his large, calloused hands.
"Ye see, It is an old story. One that mixes both the spiritual realm and the Faerie realm. Some say that the Fae, or the Sidhe, are spirits who were too good te follow Satan and his third of the Hosts Of Heaven, but not good enough te follow Christ and the two thirds that glorified Him. These people say that they have no souls. Some say that they are the children of Lilith, who was Adam's first wife. When Lilith partook of the fruit of the tree of Knowledge, Adam refused to partake as well, and she was cast out of the Garden alone to bear her strange, demented, terrifying children. More aptly believed by the skeptics and scientists of our time, th' Faeries are only stories inspired by th' Tuatha de Dannon- our ancestors, who were the pre Celtic inhabitants of Ireland- our land. They fled to the moors and the forests to hide from the Celts who invaded Ireland from Spain. I believe that God created everything, and that anything that can make a choice for itself does indeed have a soul and, therefore, if it chooses good over evil, will belong to God in the end anyway, no matter where they came from." The statement issued a low hiss from several of the women, and somewhere, someone clicked their tongue in a "tsk-tsk" manner, but Jackie ignored it all.
"When God had finished his eons of creation, placing light and dark, water and air, earth and sky in their respective domains, He placed the animals, as well as man in the Garden of Eden. Among those animals were Hippogriffs, Griffins, Drakes, and Basilisks, along with hundreds of other fantastical animals, including the majestic Unicorn."
A murmur filled the room, some of the more religious women pursing their lips in disapproval of the connection Jackie was making between the Sidhe and their beloved God, the children, especially girls, glanced at each other with excitement. Jackie dramatically waited for the chatter to settle before he continued.
"I find it trite and cliche to believe that th' animals were at all sentient. They supposedly lived in harmony and peace with one another, and they never harmed Adam or Eve. But the souls of animals are still lesser intelligences, even animals of the Faerie realm, which are usually referred to as "Wild Fae". Just as animals do not now talk through telepathy, or through a voice as they do sometimes in children's stories, they didn't talk then. Though, that knowledge should never be used to underestimate any animal's ability to communicate or understand another living creature. Indeed, they have better senses than we do about things. They can smell fear. They can smell the good in people or, in contrast, the wickedness in people. They can smell death, even, if it is in the near future. Man has always been known to block out those kinds of senses. Even from the beginning. If he hadn't, perhaps Adam and Eve would still be in that garden, blissfully and innocently naked as they tended their personal paradise.
"That being said, the fact that a serpent was talking to Eve should have been the first tip off that something was wrong. But Eve, though innocent, was intelligent." Jackie poked a finger at his temple to emphasize. "And she knew that in order to fulfill all of Gods commandments, for example, to multiply and replenish the earth, she would have to let herself be reduced to a mortal. She would have to suffer pains and afflictions, uncertainties and even eventual death in order to fulfil her end of the deal. All I know is that the devil was in the skin of something she once was able to trust. And trust is a virtue that many humans have grown out of and altogether lost at this point in time. I do not blame her.
"One can imagine that an all seeing God would know the instant that the juice of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge flowed over the gums of Adam and Eve. And so in that instant, all the known animals became mortal, and in essence, natural. They became like the earth, and just did what came easily, which meant that they ate each other. They began to hunt. And that made them a sort of enemy to man.
"The dog, however, watched with his big round eyes as the animals scattered, and Adam fell to his knees in a moment of despair, dropping the forbidden fruit to the soft grass, even in the instant that it sprouted thorns as long as his arm. And the dog stayed. In an effort to comfort the man who had always been his friend, his companion, began to lick the juice from Adams fingers until they were slick with the lack of it. And so it was that man's best friend became so because to the smallest degree he understood the darkness that flooded into Adam's heart that day. And the tradition continues on. An animal of the wild can be born in captivity or taken as a baby and taught to trust man. But a dog trusts his master and loves him unconditionally from the day of his birth."
There was a silence for a time before a little girl with straw colored hair and eyes deep as coffee, clung shyly to her rag doll and whispered "But, Friar Jackie....what about the unicorn?" Other children nodded in agreement, all eager to know about the magical being. Jackie obliged.
"The Unicorn is a more complicated story. While the other wild Fae ran away like the other animals and found their place among the fantastic and sprightly creatures who hid themselves from man altogether. But the Unicorn, like the dog, stayed and stared at Adam through red, flaming eyes. It's mane and tail had become fiery orange and burned with the fury of Hell itself before it galloped off to find sanctuary in a place that man would never find."
There were gasps all around.
"Much traditional lore about the Unicorn is based on the theory that a Unicorn is the embodiment of purity. They say that only the purest of hearts can touch them. A virgin, in most cases, seems to be the type. Healing magic flows from it's spiraling horn, and they are always white. Some lore says that they are vessels of knowledge. And that very well may be so, but as I mentioned before, they are animals, just like any other. And what knowledge they posses stays within their own mind.
"The truth of the matter is that some of the lore is right. And some of it is just misinterpretation. Unicorns are, in fact, the embodiments of purity, but they can be any color. They represent everything that is good and right in this world. Peace, harmony, emotion, strength, light. Love, even. The thought that only a virgin can touch a Unicorn is ludicrous, but then again, the idea that there is a pure enough human at all is even more ludicrous. The Unicorn is indeed a spirit of purity. But it is not in any way a spirit of forgiveness. That is the Lamb's place." Jackie smiled knowingly, and figuratively patted himself on the back for having, once more, alluded to God's place in all things.
"As much as the Unicorn is the spirit of purity, it is also the spirit of justice. And it will change it's form when an occasion arises to use it. A Nightmare-" Jackie stopped and specifically addressed the children clustered around him, "Ye know, not the kind of bad dream you have at night, the kind that manifests as a unicorn in less tumultuous times. A Nightmare is often mistaken for the angel of death at worst, and a bad omen at best. Really, the only bad omen is that the Unicorn knows your innermost workings and thinks you a fool, if not completely unworthy. But if I were to look a Nightmare in the eye, I would rethink my lifestyle. He is, of sorts, one of God's judges. But he is only a warning. The Unicorn rarely gets the final say. Still, the Nightmare isn't something I would provoke.
"In ancient worlds, the Unicorn was able to roam more freely. They galloped in herds across great wild spaces. There were fewer people to see it, and if a person did see it, they were struck with a sense of reverence an’ awe. An experience of this degree wasn't something our ancestors, for example, would soon forget, or write off as imaginary.
"Today, though, there is much to be said for denial. Most people live in it's murky darkness day in and day out. They don't recognise the blatant magical entities that often stare them in the face. For the Unicorn, this is both good and bad. For one, it lets them continue to exist. Someone catching sight of the creature may just as easily imagine it to be a very large and beautiful horse, and miss the spiraling peak against it's forehead altogether. On the other hand, a person who does see a Unicorn and recognises it for what it truly is, is just as likely to try to catch it, kill it, and exploit it- I once knew of a traveling menagerie that claimed te have a unicorn- as they are to ignore it. It makes the world a dangerous place for these titans.
"Unicorns are also unique in the fact that they claim no allegiance to the Seelie Court or Unseelie Court. They exist everywhere all the time. One can find Unicorns wherever there are wild horses. They tend to lead herds of them, and horses seem obliged to follow.
"Not many people will ever experience the thrill of seeing a Unicorn on the run. And even fewer will see the sheer fright of breath breathed from the muzzle of a Nightmare on a cold night. But in our loyal dogs, we have a comfort that not even the Unicorn's judgement can give us. No one is perfect, and even the purest man or woman is unworthy to touch a Unicorn. If we lived our lives within the judgement of the Unicorn, we would all lose hope." Jackie paused here, and stared, sadly, at the wide eyes of the children, the skeptical glances of the fathers, and the mixed gazes of the mothers, before concluding softly.
"In our darkest moment of sort-of failure, God gave us dogs."
The murmur rose around the room once more, and it quickly turned into soft laughter as everyone started to rise. Children moaned at their parents who declared it time for bed. Men shook hands, finished ales, and slapped backs before the common room cleared out. Jackie gripped Moonshine's shoulder briefly before muttering his thanks. Moonshine nodded, wiping a glazed, clay mug clean with a cloth, and Jackie stumbled outside, and down the road to his church and his loneliness.
