Lachlann stared at the Great Falls--Plodda Falls--
wondering how his heart could hammer so hard without
killing him. The name—and everything else—might
have changed, but they hadn’t. They didn’t even look
smaller. How that could be, when they were nearly seven
hundred years older and he was much bigger than he’d
been as a boy, he didn’t know. They seemed the same.
But where was the cave? He studied the rocks, but it was
hard to tell looking straight down from the platform at
the top of the falls. He glanced down the river. He
thought he knew approximately where they had fished,
but the trees were different. It was hard to be sure.
There’d been no platform, of course. They’d approached
the falls from the opposite side, at the bottom.
Rónán, wherever you are, help me.
Happy Medieval Monday! I thought I'd share a little scenery with you along with a scene from Tremors Through Time.
In the fourteenth century, Lachlann and Rónán liked to spend time at the "Great Falls". But when Lachlann visited twenty-first century Plodda Falls, he found that it looked different. The falls were the same, but the trees had changed.
And they had. While Glen Affric is still home to one of Scotland's largest Caledonian pine reserves, between 1895 to 1900, Lord Tweedmouth planted the area with Douglas firs. In other natural areas of Glen Affric, the Forestry Commission is slowly removing non-native species, but the firs around Plodda Falls remain. They are huge and, I must admit, stunning.
My husband and I enjoyed our time in Glen Affric and our day at Plodda Falls. I can understand why Lachlann and Rónán liked the area so well.
Excerpt -- Tremors Through Time
They hiked down and walked along the edge of the
stream, away from the falls in what he thought was the
right direction. Lachlann stared at the opposite bank,
trying to get a feel for his surroundings, to imagine them
as they were in his childhood. Desperately, he turned in
a circle, looking upriver and down.
He stopped instantly.
“Smell that.” Closing her eyes, she breathed in
deeply, then smiled at him. “It’s wonderful.”
“It’ll only take a minute.”
He frowned. Couldn’t they do this later? He had to
find the cave.
Stepping closer, she took both his hands in hers.
“Only a minute,” she repeated. “Breathe. Close your
eyes and breathe.”
He did as she asked, taking several deep breaths,
allowing the fresh, cool air to fill his lungs. He could
smell the trees. The familiar sound of the falls reminded
him of that day so long ago.
He cast his line. Rónán did the same. They usually
did a little fishing before hiking up to their cave. The falls
were a long walk from their homes. Although he would
never have admitted it, he was often surprised that Rónán
had been able to make it. An accident had crushed the
bones in his foot when he was small. It hadn’t healed
properly and still pained him, sometimes a lot. But his
friend was stubborn.
“Shouldn’t we bury our treasures first?” Rónán
asked, even as he collapsed on a boulder.
“We promised to bring trout home,” Lachlann
reminded him. “It’s important that we keep our word.”
“It shouldn’t be hard,” commented his friend,
drawing a hook from his sporan. “I can see them from
He spoke the truth. The clear river was running with
trout. Rónán had collected worms before Lachlann had
joined him that morning, so they were able to cast right
away. Their lines weren’t long and didn’t need to be.
Although it was a hot day, it was cool by the water’s
edge, in the shade of the great pine trees. They sat on
boulders and ate lunch while they fished. They didn’t
talk much, not even Rónán, who knew not to scare the
fish away. Anyway, he was pleasantly occupied eating.
Their lines were hit simultaneously.
Lachlann jerked his rod and stilled for a moment.
When his line went taut, he jerked it again and began
pulling in the speckled fish. Rónán did the same.
In less than two hours, they both had plenty of trout
to share with their families. They left their catch in their
nets at the river’s edge, hidden among some grasses.
They weren’t particularly worried about daylight--
the days were long in summer—but they didn’t want to
be too late in case their families were counting on their
catch for supper.
They trudged up the slope, clambering over the
rocks, to the steep path leading to their cave behind the
Lachlann opened his eyes. It all came back to him.
He smiled at his angel before releasing one of her hands
to look around. Then he saw it—the indentation that
marked the narrow path he and Rónán had taken up to
For more Tremors Through Time.
To enjoy more Medieval Monday, be sure to visit medieval ladies Mary Morgan and Barbara Bettis!
Wishing you a splendid day and week ahead!
It's no secret that I prefer fat HEAs. Where better than in a beautiful romance?
From me to you with a smile.
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