Dealing with the Fae

~Hope

Golden sunlight shines in through the canopy above, but it can’t penetrate the darkness that lingers by the roots of the trees and in the shade of the bushes surrounding. Instead, the darkness is made a few shades deeper by the introduction of light.

A toppled tree rots over the far side of the small clearing, covered in fungi more colourful than the flowers spread out over the sunlit patch of earth. These spots of colour remind me of seeing the effects of a plague on a man, the bloody reds and sallow yellows discolouring his skin.

Red capped mushrooms, sprouting spots of white, form a wide circle in the centre of the light. Almost as if someone planted them to sprout that way, but can mushrooms even be planted? They don’t even have seeds, I don’t think.

Even assuming that someone could raise mushrooms to grow wherever they willed it, why would they bother to create such a perfectly imperfect circle out in the middle of the forest? The only person likely to stumble upon it out here, would be some hunter accidentally trampling it while pursuing a particularly juicy venison steak that’s not yet to know it’s true form.

A pair of wild vines hang from the branches above, reaching nearly to the ground, and they’d be rather unremarkable in every which way, if they weren’t spinning about in tandem with no apparent cause or purpose. There is no breeze and last I knew plants don’t move on their own strength to such a degree.

I smartly retreat when one of the whips swings out and nearly catches me. Who knows, perhaps these twisted creatures called the fae have found some giant carnivorous plant, and these are but the limbs reaching out to grab its next meal.

From everywhere and from nowhere at all, the whispers tickle my ears. It’s not something I can say with confidence that I hear something whispering and laughing, it could still be the insects and birds. If it weren’t for Fate speaking to the air, I’d think the sounds, while unnerving, nothing unnatural.

No matter how deep I gaze into the shadows, there is nothing there to see. To think that beings capable of such magics reside so close to a village. I’m not sure there’s anything for us to do to resist these creatures if they truly won’t give the boy back.

What should we do?

At the moment, our only hope is that this awkward merchant might somehow bargain the child’s safe return. I’d think her chances were much better trying to beg that awful, dead bandit to give up his ways, dress up in pink, and sit about for a tea party.

“What was it you wanted us to do?” Fate asks, seeing or perhaps feigning to see, the invisible creature that’s led us through the forest to this place.

I’d ask if this is some form of trap, but that point is almost assured, and only a professional fool, with bells on their hat and all, would expect an honest answer from a trickster.

“We are here to help Sara.” She declares, gesticulating widely as if speaking to a child, or at least someone with the mind of a child. Her attempts are clearly well intended, but madness would explain her passionate speech the better.

If it weren’t for all the strange moments up until now, I’d be doubting her very sanity.

“We want to save Luek!” She shouts, her eyes following something hovering in the air.

Distant mocking laughter haunts the forest, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“We are, too!” She yells but the laughter doesn’t stop.

~Fate

“Build us a garden! All the best and brightest and most colourful flowers in this forest gathered here for us!” The little fairy demands waving his arms about as he flutters here and there unable to stay in the same place more than a heartbeat, like a human child fed too much sugar.

“Where do you want this grand garden to be planted?” I ask, watching the playful fairy race about, enjoying spring about as well as any humans I’ve come across.

Instead of ale and mead they drink the dew from the flowers, and they dance in the air above the forest floor, where we would dance drunken in the streets. Though unlike the street parties that I’ve seen, there’s no lewd proclivities here on display.

They all seem as innocent as children, imitating the play of the adults that they’ve seen. Not one of them is masking their emotions or pretending maturity. They play openly, and when frustrated they chase and rant, and shout, though it seems to fade out quick as they return to their play.

No wonder the children are so drawn to them.

“This garden is to be planted in the centre of our circle.”

“Your circle?” I ask, looking over at the ring of mushrooms. One of the other fairies takes a long dive from on high, falling with great speed into the circle of mushrooms then disappearing in a bright flash, followed by a lingering, sparkling shimmer.

This is what it must be like to see the fabric of the world so casually toyed with.

Magic.

I’ve seen the tricks and performances but never has it been quite the same as this.

“You haven’t heard of fairy rings?” The fairy asks.

“I’m haven’t exactly been bargaining with the fae every other season. Most of my customers were human and came to me.” I reply, “If you’d asked me what a fairy ring was before this moment, I’d probably be caught blushing and refuse to answer.”

The little fairy stares up at me with wide eyed confusion, but it doesn’t last for long, its attention seized by some new idea, and line of thought.

“Mountain flower. I want a mountain flower!” This declaration, of course, cannot be ignored by the many others that suddenly take interest in us once more. They buzz about, shouting and demanding new flowers, pretty flowers, large flowers, colourful flowers.

“If we bring these flowers, you’ll bring Luek back.”

“When the flowers are planted in the fairy ring. Not plucked to die, but planted to grow and to live forever! Then we will give Sara her Luek.”

“Seems pretty simple.” I say, finding no trick in the promise itself, though the phrasing seems a little weird.

“Don’t trust them.” Sara's mother says glaring blindly into the shadows around us, unable to see or hear the creatures.

“You said that we shouldn’t break a promise made to them, and Sara made a promise.” I say, “All that they’re asking is for us to gather flowers for them and to make a small garden in the circle of mushrooms.”

“They’re tricksters. They take as they will and destroy what they want. The children taken are rarely ever seen again, what they do with them no one knows.” The mother says, her white-knuckle grip proving that the phrase is not merely wordplay. Her fingers couldn’t be any more pale if she were to coat them in snow.

“It’ll be fine.” I say, trying to encourage her while watching closely the way she moves her iron dagger. The fairies keep a distance from her, some blowing raspberries in her general direction.

If the iron is doing anything that a dirty diaper wouldn’t, I can’t see it.

“Are you going to be giving Luek back the moment we finish our half of the deal?” I ask the fairy, trying to assuage the doubts that Sara’s mother has seeded in me.

“The moment you build the garden, we will give Sara back her Luek.” The fairy says, sounding a little frustrated with me. “You’re worse with your words than Sara or Luek, do you want me to… speak… slower? Or maybe louder?”

“That’s fine.” I reply, forcing a smile through my surprise at the little creatures booming voice. “I just wanted to make sure, you’re known as tricksters apparently, you know?”

“Tricksters? Fair.” He nods proudly, while smiling.

“Can we use these flowers?” Sara asks the fairy, pointing at a patch of bluebells at the edge of the sunlight.

“Those, yes. These, no. That, definitely not. The yellow ones...maybe.” The fairy flutters about, soon joined by others of its kind, pointing at the flowers they want and those they don’t.

“How will we dig them up?” I ask, as Sara is already digging into the soil with her bare hands. Her mother hesitantly joins her, though she doesn’t let go of the knife.

Country people really are built different.

“Here,” Hope says, handing me a hand sized trowel, perfect for the job.

“Why are you carrying this around?” I ask as she pulls a small shovel from her bag. The angular head looks like it’s been ground down through years of use, and the cloth that wraps the grip and shaft has been recently traded out for something fresh.

“It’s a shovel. I use it to dig.” She replies shaking her head, “What fanciful purpose would you think to use a shovel for?”

“Shovelling manure.” I suggest, “I’ve heard that it can be used as quite the cruel club, too.”

“This one?” She ignores me, pointing out a blooming bundle of pink petalled flowers. They sag a little, but the fairies seem to love these ones as much as any others here.

The red ones, the blue ones, the yellow and the white, but not the sad purple that droop. They guide us from one to the next waving wildly and sometimes arguing in favour and sometimes against.

Slowly, plant by plant we dig up all those in the field that the fairies deem worthy of the garden that they so desire. Hope proves herself invaluable in digging up the plants and planting them back into the earth within the ring of mushrooms.

“What do you fairies do all day?” I ask, wiping the sweat away and straightening my hair. “Drink dew from the flowers and play all day?”

“Have you tried flower dew?” The fairy asks, gently running a hand over the soft red petals. “I’ve seen people doing something similar before celebrating spring. They were sniffing lines of pollen from the nooks in each other’s bodies.”

“How is that…? Never mind. I don’t think I want to know.” I shake my head.

“Flowers are sex organs too, you know.” The little creature says, as he pours a droplet from the red flower into his mouth. A little of it overflowing and covering his face.

“That’s gross.” I say, lifting a flower from the earth, roots and all.

“It’s just dew, silly human.” He says, laughing at us.

“People were sniffing pollen?” Sara asks, innocently wondering by with her own flower.

“They do!” the fairy says, “It makes them all really happy. We have some pollen here too, but it doesn’t work the same on us. Do you want to try some?”

“Nope. Nope. Stop that.” I say, getting between them. “No giving drugs to minors.”

The fairy pokes its tongue at me while making an ugly face.

“No fun, party-pooper!” he squeals flying off again.

“Don’t worry about it.” I say, facing Sara. Her mother is already right by her side explaining about the dangers of the pollen, and waving me away.

“So, we plant them right in the middle of the circle?” Hope asks, looking about with a tense expression. A strange birds cry is enough to make her spin about and hold up the shovel, ready to attack.

“Relax.” I say, “They’re not so frightening. Just try not to step in the circle yourself.”

“You can step in the circle.” The fairy says, hopping over to us. “You’re too big and ugly, and magic-less, you can’t come through.”

“It’s safe?” I ask, poking at the ground in the middle of the mushroom circle.

“It’s safe.” The fairies shout flying around in circles, taking up the phrase.

They really are strange creatures.

Taking a deep breath and preparing myself for what might go wrong. I hop over the mushrooms and land in the middle of their fairy circle.

The ground is a little soft, but that’s just because it’s forest soil. I haven’t slipped through space and ended up anywhere new, though the sunlight is rather pleasantly warm here.

“Be careful of the mushrooms.” I warn hope, as she looks at me with a weird expression. She shakes her head and lifts her shovel, her feet are getting rather close to the fairies and their mushroom stools.

~Hope

I carefully step around the fairy circle, hearing them giggle and play. It’s a good thing that my spade is made from bronze, not iron. I’d been thinking of taking the iron, but the price was simply too much.

I’ve still not seen these strange and dangerous creatures, though seeing Fate jump right into the circle of mushrooms as her face is twisted up looking as if she’s leaping from a cliff’s edge, I can only surmise that they twist up a person’s mind.

I don’t think that I can trust what she sees, she’s clearly not entirely with it. I’ll have to protect everyone, and hope that at least the promise to give the boy back is an honest one.

“What now?” I ask, looking around and seeing few other flowers remaining. Apparently, those we haven’t yet touched aren’t desirable to these strange spirits.

“We search for more flowers, I think.” Fate says, her eyes following something in the air. “Special flowers, bright flowers, and good smelling flowers.”

“Couldn’t be too hard.” I say, sighing as I take back the trowel and return it to my bag. Alongside my shovel, it’s always in easy reach, it’s no longer something that I need to use so often, but I’d still like to keep it.

I haven’t yet found that last beautiful place.

“Oh, and there’s a special flower that they want.” She says. “It’s up high where the forest thins and the snow falls. Oh, that’s a long way, isn’t it?”

“Why do they want these flowers?” I ask, holding down a sigh. It’s bad manners. Now that I’m around people again, it’s important to get my manners back into good condition, my mother would be appalled.

“Ah… they want flowers to take home?” Fate says. “That’s what they say.”

“Well, the sooner we get to work, the sooner we get the boy back.” I say, “Let’s get these flowers.”

“We should go for the mountain flower first, gather others along the way.” Fate suggests. “We should get Shadow to come along, too. We can hang some bags off of him and put the flowers in them.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I say, looking at the tree roots, rocks, and small holes. “I don’t think this is a good place for a horse.”

“Oh, maybe…” Fate says, sagging as she comes to accept my point. “Damn lazy horse must be sitting back in the stables enjoying himself.”

“Did you ever give him those apples you promised?” I ask.

“Oh, uh…”

“We should leave before the sun sets.” Sara’s mother suggests, looking back at us. “You’ll come back with us tomorrow?”

“Yes.” I reply easily. Even if Fate decides to let this go, I can’t.

“Good.” The woman nods, looking distant as she holds her daughter’s hand. “We can’t risk offending the fae. We’ll do this thing for them, then leave. No more promises, even if they don’t give Luek back.”

“You think they’d go back on their promise?” Fate asks.

“They’re tricksters, don’t trust them. Ever.” The woman says.

“Is it bad if I go with you?” the bandit asks, and suddenly we all recall that he’s still with us. “What?”

Now that I see him still blowing at his pan pipes, I suspect that his awful imitations of music were lost amidst the loud, obnoxious songs of the birds up in the trees.

“Why didn’t you help us?” Fate asks, stepping up to him and glaring as she tries to get the dirt out from under her nails.

“I didn’t know what you were doing, really.” He replies with a shrug. “I would’ve gotten in the way, best to stand back and offer music to keep the fae in a good mood.”

The pipes loosen and almost fall apart as the bard struggles to catch his broken instruments, swearing under his breath.

“Well the fairies are having fun with you.” She says, smiling at his misfortune. “Yeah, okay. Fine. We’re leaving, we can’t stop you from following.”

Fate takes me by the arm and pulls me to the edge of the clearing before waving back into the clearing.

“We’ll be back tomorrow.” She says, “We need to get that mountain flower, and going in the dark would be stupid, we’d never find it.”

“Fate?”

“I’m talking to the fairy.” She replies. “He’s being awfully rude considering how far we’re going to help him. Oh yeah, that’s right, get back to that flower dew, and ignore everything. Damn drunkard fairies.”

“Fate?”

“It’s fine.” She replies, “Let’s get going. Do you guys know the way back?”

“I do!” Sara cries happily, still locked in her mother’s grip.

Travel through the darkening forest is becoming a more familiar affair, but for all the thick humidity, it’s not nearly as bad as the hot, dry desert that I’m used to. The shade of the trees hide strange terrors like the fae, and I have to wonder what other things live here.

“Do we tell the villagers that Luek was taken by the fairies?” I ask, looking back towards where that mystical field lay. The smell of the flowers has faded a measure, but hasn’t fully faded.

“No.” Sara’s mother answers before anyone else has the chance. “They’ll want to interfere. We take care of this promise, make this garden, then we tell them about it.”

“So, we don’t tell Lueks father anything?” I ask, “We have to say something.”

“And what happens when he comes here and talks with the fairies? What about when they refuse to give us Luek back after the garden is made? Will he try to offer up Sara to have his son back?”

“That seems rather unlikely.” Fate says.

“Not so.” The bard says, “It’s the tale as old as time itself, that when the fae take what is most precious, that men and women offer as sacrifice anything to get their loved ones back.”

“They’re stories.” Fate says.

“Based on realities.” The bard replies.

“If the fae give the boy back when we’re done, what does it matter if his parents know about it or not. They’ll have the boy back, or they won’t.” Sara’s mother says. Finally sheathing her iron knife as she pushes her steps a little faster. She doesn’t even spare the forest behind us a glance, looking only ahead.

“Oooh, that flower looks nice.” Fate says, “Hope, bring the shovel.”

“It is pretty. Do you think the fairies will like it?” Sara says, her mother still holding her tightly as they pause to give us a moment to gather the plant.

“I think they might.” Fate says carefully pulling the flower out with roots and all.