Òran na Mara (Song of the Sea)

The sea was restless that winter’s morning, waves tumbling over the jagged rocks in a frothy embrace. A lone seal perched on one of the larger outcrops, her sleek grey coat glistening under the pale light of dawn. She had been there for hours, her dark, liquid eyes fixed intently on the shore, where a man moved among the dunes, checking the nets he had set the previous evening.

It was not the first time she had encountered him. The first had been a year passed. Drawn too close to the shallows by a flash of curiosity, she found herself ensnared by the ropes of a fishing net. Panic had gripped her as she thrashed against the bonds as the tide threatened to pull her under.

It was then he had appeared. Without hesitation, he had waded into the frigid waters. His strong hands moved deftly, slicing through the ropes with a small knife.

“Easy there, lass,” he had murmured with a smile. “Let’s get you out of this mess.”

She stilled, her wide eyes locking onto his. He was not so different from other humans who lived in the villages beyond the cliffs - tall and broad-shouldered, with wind-tousled hair the colour of coal. A heavy brow below which lay piercing grey-blue eyes. Yet something in his expression set him apart. There was no malice in his gaze, no hunger for conquest. Instead, his dark eyes held warmth, tempered by a quiet determination. Her kind had learned long ago to avoid humans, for their nets and harpoons offered little kindness to creatures of the sea. 

When the last of the ropes fell away, she hesitated, her instincts warring with something unfamiliar. Was this some cruel trick? But he simply laughed - a soft, relieved sound that surprised her.

“There now,” he had said with a grin. “On yer way.”

Without another glance, she had slipped back into the safety of the waves. Yet even as the water had carried her away, curiosity tugged at her. She circled back once, just far enough to see him standing on the shore. 

From that moment on, she began to watch him. At first, it was out of caution, her instincts urging her to ensure he posed no threat to her or the rest of her pod. But the more she observed, the more her intrigue grew. He returned to the same stretch of shore day after day, tending his nets with a patience and care she found puzzling.

In time, her wariness gave way to fascination. The man worked in quiet harmony with the sea, taking only what the sea was willing to part with. He even began leaving small offerings near the rocks where she often lingered - fresh fish laid carefully on the sand. Approaching only after he had left, she would graciously claim the gifts.

Over time, their encounters had settled into an unspoken ritual. Each morning, as the sun stretched its golden fingers over the horizon, he would walk the shore, and she would be there, perched on her rock. When he glanced her way, he would raise a hand in greeting and she would respond in kind, lifting a flipper.

This morning was no different, yet she had felt a longing rise in her chest in recent weeks, as she watched him move along the shore. To converse with him, to learn and to listen. He was humming again, the familiar tune catching on the salt-kissed breeze and carrying out to her. She knew the song of course, for her kind had written it centuries ago, before even humans had inhabited the island.

She tilted her head, studying him with a quiet intensity. There was a grace to his movements, a strength tempered with gentleness. As he worked, pausing now and then to adjust his nets, the sunlight danced across his features, highlighting the dark waves of his salt-crusted hair and the stubble lining his jaw. He paused, straightening to wipe sweat from his brow, and glanced toward the rocks. 

Their eyes met.

For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Her heart thundered in her chest, a soundless drumbeat only she could hear. His gaze lingered just long enough to send a ripple through her. Then, with a faint smile, he turned back to his work.

She could no longer feign indifference. She had abandoned that pretence some time ago. This time, she did not stay still. It was unorthodox, but not unheard of for her kind to reveal themselves to humans. Her grandmother had told her stories of a great Selkie prince who had taken a human maiden as his bride.

Sliding gracefully from her rock, she slipped into the water, her sleek form cutting through the waves. The sea parted for her as she swam closer, the distance between them shrinking with each gentle flick. She stayed low, her dark eyes just above the water’s surface.

He was kneeling now, sorting through a wooden box near the sand. From this close, she could see the subtle furrow of his brow as he worked, the way his hands moved with quiet purpose. Her heart raced, caught between the boldness of her actions and the pull of something deeper.

Rising cautiously from the water, she was close enough now that she could hear his steady breathing. Then, with her own decisive breath, she leapt from the sea onto the damp sand behind him. 

The soft thud of her landing startled him. He turned, brows lifting in surprise as his gaze met hers. Recognition dawned in his eyes, and his lips curved into that familiar smile. “Well now, there ye are,” he said. “I wis wondering if ye’d make an appearance today.”

She tilted her head, meeting his gaze with wide, dark eyes. If only he could have seen her smile.

“Ye ken,” he continued, sitting back on his heels, “ye’re the only company I’ve got for most of the day. The lads at the tavern wid think me mad if I telt them I’d been bletherin’ wi’ a seal. But I dinnae mind.” He reached into the box beside him and pulled out a small fish. “Here. I thought ye might fancy this.”

He tossed it toward her, and she shifted just enough to let it land near her flipper. She didn’t move to claim it, but the gesture made her chest tighten again. 

“Ye probably dinnae understand a word I’m saying,” he said with a soft chuckle, “but, it feels good to talk. Makes the work day a wee bit less lonely.”

She watched him intently, the rhythm of her heartbeat matching the restless waves behind her. If only he knew - she understood far more than he could imagine. His words mattered more than he could ever realize. 

For a moment, she wavered, the weight of her hidden truth pressing against her. The urge to shed her skin, to show him her human form, surged within her. She longed to stand before him, to bridge the gap between them with words of her own.

Her flippers trembled as she toyed with the idea, her hidden hands itching to reach for the clasp of her seal skin. She had lived so long bound to the ocean’s safety and her kind’s secrecy. But here was a human who had offered her kindness without asking for anything in return, who spoke to her as though she were more than just a creature of the waves. 

He spoke, as if he could sense her inner turmoil. “Ye’re acting a bit odd today,” he remarked with a laugh. “Ye got something on yer mind too?”

The ache in her chest deepened, and she knew she couldn’t keep hiding. With a deep, steadying breath, she prepared to loosen the skin and let the waves carry her secret away.

But just as she gathered her resolve, a voice pierced the quiet air.

“Ewan!”

The sound froze her in place, her heart lurching. A woman’s voice, light and clear, carried over the dunes.

Ewan turned at once, his face breaking into a broad smile. “Niamh!” he called back, rising to his feet with an eagerness that felt to her sharper than any harpoon.

The seal watched, rooted to the spot, as a young woman appeared at the crest of the hill. Her auburn hair blazed in the sunlight, cascading over her shoulders like strands of fire. She wore a simple dress, its hem swaying with her hurried steps, and a shawl draped over her arms, which cradled the gentle bump of her stomach. Her face was fair, her pale skin scattered with a dusting of freckles that softened her features and lent her an air of innocence.

As she approached, her laughter spilled across the shore, bright and effortless. “I thought I might find ye here,” she said, her eyes crinkling as she smiled at him.

Ewan’s joy was palpable. “I was just finishing up,” he said, brushing the sand from his hands. He glanced back toward the seal but she had already darted below the waves.

Beneath the waves, she drifted, her thoughts swirling as the water cradled her. The sight of the woman’s face lingered in her mind. She hadn’t expected it. Foolish, she thought, a flicker of embarrassment tightening her chest. The customs of humans were strange to her, but she understood the bond of family.

There was no room for envy, no pang of jealousy. Instead, there was quiet acceptance. How could she begrudge him the happiness she had seen in his eyes?

~ ~ ~

Ewan sat by the fire, reaching over to pick up the broken bait box he had brought back with him. As he did, something could be heard rolling around inside. Opening it up, he saw it.

It was a small glass vial, no longer than his thumb, filled with water so clear it seemed to hold a piece of the sea itself. As he turned it in his hands, the firelight caught on a scrap of parchment tied neatly to the vial’s neck with a strand of seaweed. His heart quickened with curiosity as he carefully untied the delicate knot and unfolded the note. The handwriting, elegant and flowing, like waves themselves. 

To Ewan, whose heart is as wide as the sea is deep,

O’ the sea, where the waves rise and fall,

Ye hae wandered my shores wi’ a heart sae pure,

An’ for that, I gie ye this gift—a token o’ kin,

When the winds are harsh, and yer strength is unsure.

If ye e’er stand in need, when the night is long,

An’ the weight o’ the world seems too heavy to bear,

Pour this wee water intae the tide,

An’ call my name, for I’ll come wi’ care.

No debt, nae favour—I offer ye this,

For nae beast ye saw, but a soul o’ the sea,

An’ wi’ that kindness, ye’ve left a mark,

That’s deeper than the rocks ye’ll ever see.

May yer days be guid an’ yer nets be full,

An’ when ye walk by the water, remember the tune,

The sea’s nae enemy, just a force that’s wild,

But tae a friend, it grants its boon.

Ewan stared at the note, his brow furrowing in confusion. Whoever left it knew his name but there was no sign of who. He didn’t think much of it though, another trinket to add to the collections of things he’d pulled out of the sea. 

The day after, ready to continue his daily ritual, there was no seal waiting for him. Nor the next day. Nor the one after that. Not a single sighting was seen around the island for seven years.

~ ~ ~

Ewan stood at the water’s edge, staring out into the vastness. The waves crashed relentlessly against the shore, as though mocking him. The salt wind stung his face, but it didn’t rouse him. His son was still burning with fever at home, a sickness that had already taken a good portion of the village. Desperation had set in, gnawing him but he had no answers. They had tried everything - herbal remedies, every medicine the local druid had provided and begrudgingly even prayer, at the suggestion of the village priest.

Nothing had worked. 

Then, through the fog of his thoughts, he remembered the vial.

He had forgotten it - had it tucked away for so long. With a surge of panic, he fumbled around in his coat, finally pulling the cork from the vial. His fingers trembled as he held it aloft, staring at the clear liquid inside. 

What am I doing? he thought bitterly. 

Without further thought, Ewan cast the contents of the vial into the surf. It swirled for a moment in the foamy water, and the wind carried its briny scent back to him. But the ocean, like his heart, gave no answer. 

He stood there for a long time, eyes focused on the waves, but the tide showed no mercy. There were no signs, no miracles.

Feeling a fool, Ewan turned away from the shore. He trudged back home, through the wintery sleet, his shoulders slumped and a heavy ache in his chest. What had he expected? A miracle?

His house, when he reached it on the outskirts of the village, seemed colder than it had before. The fire had burned down, and his son's soft, laboured breaths were all that filled the space. Ewan entered quietly and sat at the foot of the bed, staring at his son’s sleeping face in his wife’s arms.

Niamh looked over at him and managed a tearful smile. 

But then, before either could speak, a soft knock at the door broke the silence. 

Ewan stiffened, a shiver running down his spine. He rose to answer it, though cautiously.

When he opened the door, his breath caught in his throat.

Standing in the doorway, she stood framed by the moonlight spilling behind her. Her tall figure was silhouetted, casting a soft, ethereal glow that seemed almost angelic in its purity. The pale light caressed her delicate form, highlighting the smoothness of her skin and the slick, black hair that cascaded down her shoulders in wet ringlets. She wore little more than a rough hessian sack, its coarse fabric draped over her body, cinched at the waist with a simple knot. Beneath her arm, she clutched a neatly rolled seal skin which held a similar precipitation to her own.

Her eyes though, somehow he recognised those.

Ewan blinked. “You…”

The Selkie smiled softly. “Hello Ewan,” she said, stepping past him into the room without waiting for permission. She gave a grateful curtsy to Niamh as she approached the bed, her hands clutching the seal skin with an odd reverence.

Niamh blinked, taken aback by the unexpected visitor. “Who–?”

“The seal?” Ewan said, as if still not entirely sure. 

She laughed softly, turning to nod over her shoulder at him. “Aye, the very same.”

“Why didn’t you-?”

“It is not of my kind to interfere in the lives of humans, I thought about it, many times,” she murmured, her fingers brushing over the roll of seal skin at her side. “But fate is a fickle mistress. You showed a kindness that is in short supply amongst your kin and for that, at the very least, I was bound by sea to repay it.” She paused, her eyes meeting Ewan’s, and there was something infinitely tender in her gaze. "But, I am glad we could meet properly.”

She turned back toward the bed, where the boy lay pale and fevered. With a steadying breath, the Selkie reached out, her fingers hovering over the boy’s small hand before gently grasping it. She closed her eyes, her expression softening with concentration. She leaned closer, whispering in a language neither parent could understand, ancient beyond all measure. The air around them seemed to shift as she began to unravel the seal skin, spreading it out across the floor beside her.

As her fingers traced patterns over the skin, a faint silver-blue light began to trail over its surface following her movements. Droplets of water seemed to rise from the skin, as if dripping in reverse. Ewan took a step back gazing at the ceiling as caustic lights danced over them as if the house itself was filled with the ocean. The boys feverish body seemed to relax under her touch, the rapid rise and fall of his chest slowing as she continued her quiet incantation. 

Both parents looked on in silence as the boy’s breathing grew steadier. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding his gaze before it cleared.

“Ma…?” the boy whispered weakly.

The Selkie smiled softly. “Rest now, little one,” she said gently, her voice like a lullaby. 

With that, the boy’s body relaxed completely, his once feverish skin now cool and smooth, his chest rising and falling in a steady pattern. 

Ewan found himself struggling for words. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to properly express what he owed her. 

“Thank you,” he finally managed. The words felt too small.

The Selkie’s gaze softened further, and she stepped toward him with an elegance that seemed too fluid for the world of men. She reached up, brushing her fingers against his cheek with a tenderness that made his heart skip.

“I will never forget you or your family, Ewan,” she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. “And I hope you never forget your kind heart.”

Then, without warning, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. The sensation was cool, like the sea breeze, yet warm with an unmistakable tenderness.

With that, she stepped out into the night, the door swinging closed behind her with a soft finality. Ewan stood at the threshold, his cheek still tingling from her kiss. For a long moment, he didn’t move. The house was still, save for the quiet breathing of his son, and outside, nothing, but the distant song of the sea.