The Thursday photo prompt: Mirror #writephoto

Earduk looked into the mist. It was fourteen moonbirths since his father Shardan had breathed his last and departed for the land of Ancestors. His body laid to rest in the Hall of Memory under the stones.

It was time for the final ritual. This was Earduk’s personal ceremony.

Hanging from his shoulder the jute bag felt heavy  as it bounced on his right thigh with each step.

He stopped in a kind of reverie, wondering  how far his father was on his journey. Today would be a great help to him, Earduk was sure.

He tapped the bag at his side and with a smile remembered how hard it had been to prepare the heavy sword within. He and two of his brother’s had strained for many fire-burnings to bend the blade exactly as required preparing for when it would be called upon to fulfil the reason for it’s making. It’s spirit was now released and it was ready to work for it’s owner.

His father would be waiting to feel it in his hand once more. A sign that he had given up battles and was happy to live in peace with all the other denizens of the realm. Only then could he continue his journey to be with his wife Lucine once more. Earduk’s beloved mother who had passed into the realms of shadows many new moons past.

He could see the grove ahead wherein lay the Pool of Souls. He slowly reached into his bag. Reverently withdrawing the blade he turned it over and over  in his hands. The blade flashing in the rising sun casting shafts of light  onto the placid waters which acted as a mirror to the tree-lined banks.

He raised the short, plain, iron blade above his head and with a loud cry cast the offering  far into the pool.

The splash caused a stir and broke the tranquil silence. He felt he could hear the sigh of the water Gods as they accepted his gift. The ripples slowly diminished and with the ritual complete Earduk turned back to the shore.

Earduk would be able to  tell the elders that Shardan’s relics could now be placed in the niche under the door of the family roundhouse.