Awa' an Faqya

The night was wild and stormy, and the people on the coast of Nova Scotia were battening down the hatches. However, this has no bearing on my story. The story I am about to tell took place on the West Coast of Scotland. Well not exactly the coast, but a little further inland in a little town call Kilmabruchnabrachanman, pronounced Killman. Well not exactly Kilmabruchnabrachanman, but in the Laird’s manor just outside Kilmabruchnabrachanman. Kilmabruchnabrachanman House, prounounced Killman House.

Killman House had been built in the reign of Robert the Bruise. Who had been named for a birthmark on his nose, due to his mother having been hit on the face with a skillet, when pregnant, by her husband and the Bruise’s father, Robert the Brusque. Who was well known for his short temper and instant repartee.

The House had been gifted to the 1st Laird Faqyaharson, pronounced Faqya and was inherited by the present Laird Faqya. The Faqya’s had fallen on hard times and the Laird had betrothed his only Son Alfric, prounounced Awa’an, to Lord Ullin’s daughter, Netty the Nippy. Who was well known for her sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Netty the Nippy’s dowry would ensure the future of the Faqya’s and Kilman House inperpetuity. Young Awa’an wasn’t happy with this arrangement and had told his father in no uncertain terms. “Ah wulny merry that wee shrew Faither, ahm in love wi a lassie ah saw doon at the burn steeping hur feet in the cauld watter.”

At this news his Father, with a face that resembled a bag of spanners, in his fury, told his son, “ye wull be disinherited and we wull aw hifty go tae the puirhoose if ye dinna merry Netty the Nippy.”

“Ah don’t kerr, ahll disown ye as a faither. Ah widny merry Netta the Nippy if ye piyed me, and ah certainly wulny merry her jist coz her faither is piyin you. Ahll leave this place the day and make mah ain wiy in the world and come back when ahv made mah fortune. Then ahll merry the lassie at the burn.” With a flourish Awa’an Faqya flung himself out of the house and onto his horse and rode away into the night. Well not exactly the night but the late afternoon.

“Awa’an Faqya, come back” shouted his father.
But Awa’an couldn’t hear him. In his blind rage he hadn’t noticed the low branch and was now unconscious on the forest floor. Bleeding profusely from a gash on his brow.

The furious father returned to the house and sank into a chair. He put his head in his hands and thought. “Ah ken something that naebody else kens, ah ken that Netty the Nippy’s maternal grandfaither, Hector the Headstrong his died trying tae find the source of the Clyde. Aw his lands and wealth wull noo pass tae Netta the Nippy.”

Meanwhile Awa’an had stirred to see in front of him a face. Two eyes, a nose and a mouth and chin. Yes it was definitely a face. But it wasn’t just any face. Can you reader, guess who’s face it was? Yes, it was none other than the lassie who had been steeping her feet in the burn.

Ina the Indolent, had been born in the village. The daughter of the Pig Swiller and a mysterious French woman who had happened upon the village and had fallen in love with Ina’s father. She had left soon after Ina was born, swearing to come back for her baby when she had made her fortune. Ina herself was a handsome, if not pretty woman. She was extremely tall, which made her walk with a bowed gait. She had flaming red hair reaching to her waist. Her face was round, with cheeks to match her hair. She was dressed in a plaid dress, plaid shawl and plaid stockings. On her head she wore a hat resembling an upside down oil lamp, and which protruded at a 90 degree angle from the back of her head. She cradled Awa’an’s head in her ample hands and mopped his bleeding brow with a spit on the edge of her plaid shawl. “Whit happened tae you laddie, that is a bliddy great bliddy cut ye hiv oan yir heid, ahm thunkin we wull hifty send fur the doachter.”

Awa’an suddenly sat bolt upright, so upright that he was positively straight. Ina helped him to his feet. The rain was falling softly and quietly, and it brought a moisture and dampness. One could feel a definite sense of wetness on the forest floor. “Come alang wi me” the girl said in a voice that sounded like the skirl of the bagpipes. She had fallen in love at first sight with the Laird’s son, as he had her at the burn. As they neared her cottage, well it wasn’t exactly a cottage more a dilapidated hovel, they heard a voice calling. “Ina is that you hen, did ye manage tae catch any fush?” The voice belonged to Ina’s father the pig swiller, who was at the front of the house swilling pigs. Ina replied, “Aye faither ahv caught a knickerful of kippers.” With that she reached under her skirts and produced six big fish and an old boot. Ina had caught many old boots at the burn, but was still hoping to find a pair.

“Is that no the Laird’s boay Awa’an wi ye?” he said
“Aye faither, he his hid a bit of a faw and cut his heid wide open. Ah think we might need tae go fur the doachter.”
“Let me hiv a look at it” said the father. “Naw it disny need the doacter, ahv goat a couple of leeches and a poultice in the hoose. That wull see him right.”

After the treatment with the leeches and with a poultice affixed firmly to his cut head, Awa’an was feeling pale, he felt so pale as to be feeling almost white. Ina led him through to the bedroom where he lay down. “Ahll call ye when the fush is ready.”

Whilst Awa’an was sleeping, fitfully dreaming about Ina and her feet in the cauld, cauld burn. There came a sound of a carriage drawing near to the hovel. The pig swiller turned his gaze down the track and saw coming towards them a black carriage, so black in it’s blackness that it was positively black. It was drawn by two black horses with golden plumage. The coach stopped outside the door of the house, and a woman emerged with a face as long as one of the horses. She had the air of a foreigner, and was dressed strangely in foreign garb. As she alighted, there was a flicker of recognition in the pig swiller’s face. “Is that you Veronique?” Yes reader it was none other than Ina the Indolent’s mother returned to the fold. Ina ran out and threw herself upon her mother’s neck, knocking her to the ground at her father’s feet in the pig swillery. Once composed they all began crying, and between the tears, her mother told her that she had found an ancient document which proved that she was heir to the Ullin lands and properties, which meant she owned not only the substantial manor house, but also their own hovel. She told them that that Hector the Headstrong was an imposter who had died, not searching for the source of the Clyde. But had expired while partaking of some company in a bordello in the far reaches of Glasgow. Auchenshuggle to be exact. Ina woke Awa’an and after telling him the news they fell into each other’s arms declaring eternal love.

Awa’an returned to his father’s house, declaring, “Ahv made mah fortune faither, nae need fur me tae merry Netta the Nippy”
“That wiz quick" said his father "yiv only been awa an hour and a hauf.”

Yes reader it was a happy group who rode in the black carriage and ousted Lord Ullin and his daughter Netta the Nippy from the manor. The were given the keys to the hovel. Ina and Awa’an married and often rode past the hovel to laugh at Netta & her father and throw them some scraps and then set the dogs and peruse the ensuing spectacle.