Banshee, Women of the Mounds
This ancient God of the Gaelic people carries with her a most ancient pact, with a most ancient people; a pact which 'bean sí' holds most serious and sacred. A gift from us to her; and so, from herself to us in return. She might even be known as Siobhán or 'Kind God', and is or was so beloved, so revered, that many a Irish lass has borne her name throughout the ages. Though sadly this has largely been forgot... Forgotten why, forgotten what, the forgotten dream, the forgotten wish, the forgotten bond...
OH! But to hear the Banshee wail! ...Perhaps you have heard it on the wind. ...Perhaps not. The sad mournful wail of loss and grief... But do not dread the call of this Gaelic God as she is not what she seems, she is not what you may have likely heard. She is not the bringer of death, she is not to be feared. No! She is far more important than that!
Perhaps; most importantly, she is not merely a she, she is a they, and not just any they. They are of the Sidhe or 'spirit' the Spirit Women of the Gaelic tribesmen, each bound to her own family. Not by force or shackles, nor any ritual, but bound by choice. The choice of love. And do not fool yourself, love is indeed a choice. One cannot force another to love. One cannot force themselves to love. It may be feigned of course 'for a time at least', but one CHOOSES to love, whom to love... And perhaps the most frightening, most utterly terrifying thing about the Banshee, is that her love is complete. Her love is in totality! Her love is final and absolute! Her love shall never waver, nor shall it falter. Her family, her charges are hers! As she is theirs... This is the horrible and frightening source of their power.
The wail of the Banshee is that of the truest and deepest mourning for the death of the greatest, or most noble of her family. Those who are true heroes to their people. They may not have slain monsters or destroyed armies. They may have simply been there ...Been there when it truly mattered. When it was hard. The Bean Sidhe being from the other realms can read the tides. They see the ripples of consequence in ways we cannot. And so, they learn of the oncoming loss before we mortals do. In their most terrible grief they set out to warn of the impending doom. The loss of one so beloved that the pain will splash across the coil leaving but a heaving and empty hole where this one had once stood. She allows her clans to prepare. To come to terms with the impending loss. To steady themselves before the gale of sorrow and torment that awaits them. Or on occasion, as a relief to the cessation of a suffering end.
The power of her grief, her sorrow; is not for the one about to pass, but for those who shall live in the loss of their loved one. The wail of one of these Women of the Mounds has even been known to rend the skies with great lightnings and storms. Churn the seas from bottom to top casting fish upon the beaches where they rot! Their painful cry has been known to cast trees to the ground ripping root from soil or even turning them completely upside down! And should their be guilt involved... Even to blind and deafen entire armies or the individual whose guilt is associated with the death of one so beloved.
See? The Banshee do not bring death... Nor do they cause it. They are not killers 'No more than any of us really'. Should they take it to mind ...No! They are much worse than that. Should you manage to offend one of these Ladies, you would count yourself lucky to die!
In their grief, as with any woman they will bring unending pain and torment! They will curse your family and all of your descendants! They will make your fields barren and sap your luck! They will crush everything you love into oblivion, and worst of all... They will ensure you live long enough to witness your downfall in it's entirety! They have been known to steal these... most wicked... of people away, whisking them to the land of Fae so that the offender might watch in agony the full price of their offense.
So always remember, in truth they are mourners, and most importantly 'Never fekk with a grieving woman!'.
The proof of her bond, her devotion. The object of her love. Her most cherished possession. Is her comb. Every Banshee will hold most dear a comb 'or similar object', carved for her of the leg bone of one of her families greatest heroes. And you'd do well to not think this a weakness, a way to destroy her, or her bond to her chosen family. Remember the Bean Sidhe does not take her role lightly. She truly cherishes her family, and no mere item controls that. It is but a symbol, not a requirement. The loss or theft of this item will have no power over her except to provoke her complete and unbridled wrath!
See?, she keeps the chronicles of her families history, she keeps this history within her heart, within her very being, she sings their songs with pride and love and more than a little sorrow as they have already passed. She watches over them to chronical the new stories of love and loss, the stories of joy and their grand adventures within this, the mortal realm.
She washes and mends the clothes of those who die before they are stained forever with the inglorious stains of life, the blood and shite that so often comes with death. ...This duty of care for her clan is the most precious and tender part of a Banshee's existence. All of this and more is symbolized in the modesty of her humble comb. The comb with which she carefully combs her own hair as she sings the ancient rhymes and equally tenderly combs the hair of her beloved fallen as she sings to them the song of their life, and the lives of those who came before them. And so she also comforts them with songs of that yet to come.
So should you ever see an old yet beautiful woman, or perhaps even a maiden whose eyes betray the weight and wisdom of ages gone by, sitting on a bench or under a tree, even upon a stone next to a pond. If this woman be combing her hair, singing softly to herself, or weeping as though lost. Offer to her your time and care. Offer to her to comb her hair, listen to her song, offer her a story of your own if she so desires... because she very well might be... a Banshee!
She who is the Banshee, historian and herald, lover of her clan, caregiver and caretaker of the dead, the gentle hand that passes, the sigh upon the wind. She who asks nothing, yet gives everything. Care for her... Love her.
And for fekks sake don't try to steal her comb!