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Ankou is the worker of death, everyone will meet him in person one day, but very few have time to tell of their meeting.
Fanch ar Floc'h was the blacksmith at Ploumilliau. He was a hard worker, and always had more work than he could cope with. As such he said to his wife, after eating on Christmas Eve.
-You will have to go alone to the midnight mass with the children. I will never be ready in time to go with you. I still have a pair of wheels to forge, that I have promised to deliver tomorrow morning, and after I will have finished, it will be my bed that I will be needing.
To this his wife replied:
- At least make sure that when the church bells ring in Christmas you are not still working. - At that time, no doubt will my head already be on the pillow.
And so he returned to the forge, while his wife prepared the children and
herself to go to the town, one league away, so to hear the mass. The weather
was clear and bitter, with a touch of frost.
When his family set off, Fanch bid them to have a good time.
- We shall pray for you, said his wife, but remember, not to work past
the holy hour. - No, no, don't worry, was the reply.
He pumped away on the bellows, whilst singing a song, as was his habit
when he wanted to put his heart in his work. The time passes quickly when
you are occupied. Fanch ar Floc'h didn't feel the time passing. The sound
of his hammer against the anvil masked the far off bells ringing in Christmas
day. Christmas had come and he was still working. All of a sudden, the
door creaked on its hinges.
Surprised Fanch ar Floc'h paused, hammer held, and looked who had entered.
- Hello, said a strong voice.
- Hello, replied Fanch.
He could see the visitor but couldn't quite make out the form of the face
underneath his large felt hat in the gloom. It was a tall man, dressed
in an old fashioned manner. After a short pausee, he continued.
-I saw your light and entered since I have need of your services.
-Well, I am afraid this isn't a good time, I still have this wheel to finish,
and as a good Christian, I don't want the church bells to ring with me
still working.
- Oh, said the man, it's over a quarter of an hour since the church bells
rang in Christmas.
- It's not possible, cried the smith, dropping his hammer.
- Afraid so, replied the stranger, anyway I don't require much work, it's
only a nail to fix home. The stranger produced a large scythe from behind
his back, which had until now been hidden, showing only the handle that
Flanch ar Floc'h had taken to be a stick.
-You see, it moves a bit, you could quickly fix it.
- Good God yes, if it's only that, replied Fanch, it's no problem. In any
case the stranger's voice suggested that he wouldn't have accepted a refusal.
He posed the blade of the scythe himself on the anvil.
- But your tool is put together wrong, the cutting edge faces the wrong
way. What clumsy idiot did this fine work?
- Don't worry yourself about that, replied the man, leave it as it is and
occupy yourself with fixing it.
- As you wish, murmured Fanch ar Floc'h, the tone of voice of the stranger
not pleasing him.
- Now I shall pay you said the man.
- Oh forget it, it was nothing.
- Yes, all work deserves payment. I wont give you money, Fanch ar Floc'h,
but something more valuable than silver or gold. Go to bed now, think of
your end, when your wife will return. Tell her to return to the town to
fetch the priest. This work you have just finished for me is the last work
you shall do in you life. Farewell.
The man disappeared. Already Fanch ar Floc'h felt his legs give way under
him: he only just had the strength to reach his bed where his wife found
him in his death throes. Return, he said, fetch me a priest. At cockcrow,
his soul departed, for having forged the scythe of ann Ankou.
Please also visit other realms of mine
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wolves - our dearest brothers
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