Sylvanlight, Book I by slflew

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Chapter 3. The Fair Folk.

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Chapter 3.                                                           

It has occasionally been remarked upon that it is as easy to overlook something large and obvious as it is to overlook something small and niggling, and that the large things one overlooks can often cause problems. - Stardust, Neil Gaiman

That afternoon, Gwen helped her brother by critiquing his poetry. She got along well with him, since they were only a little more than a year apart and were of the same temperament. He twisted his fingers into the curls of his afro and frowned. John (for that was his name) was very popular at school, and his hair (like Gwen's) was a separate character, one of few brown-haired people who could pull off a ‘fro and look good in it. His passion was as much for writing and acting as hers was for reading, although sometimes his poetry was a disaster. He was trying, though.

"Okay." John frowned, creating the dimple that girls at school giggled over. "How about this:" he assumed the position he usually took when he was acting and said in a serious voice - "My heart is yawning/a gaping chasm/ I step to the brink/ and then into the abyss." Gwen looked up from her reading (a copy of Paradise Lost in prose, which was somewhat rare) and frowned as well.

"My heart is yawning? What is it, going to sleep?"

"Oh." He sounded downhearted. "I didn't think of that." Gwen smiled.

She looked back down at the pages of her book, but lost interest, putting it away and wandering out to the hammock. Lying down on it, the sun warm against her, she closed her eyes, mind drifting away to other worlds. Even though the nature around Gwen made her content, life at home and school always made her desire something more. She never felt satisfied with the regular, predictable pattern that the world drew before her - college, then grad school, then a job and perhaps marriage. Ordinary, really. Wanting something more drove her into the worlds of her books, worlds she could escape to, but never touch. She sighed, feeling restless again, and got up to read more of her book.

Dinner was chicken soup from a can - salty and warm. Alicia, the youngest of the three siblings at the age of 10, gave their mother a reproachful look. "Mom, this isn't real food."

Their mother smiled sheepishly. "I was busy reading." Their father rolled his eyes - "Sheesh, how did I get a family like this?" and their mother leaned over, kissing him. Their father, Jacob, was the only sports fan in the family, and they tolerated his ranting at the television with smiles and glances at one another. As she looked at them around the television, Gwen felt a sudden contentment. As much as her family gave her grief, she realized she loved them.

That night, she lay on her bed, unable to sleep. But she wasn't caught between waking and dreaming - no, she lay wide awake, listening to every sound in the woods outside. She shifted and looked out at them, and they were dark and menacing without the golden sunlight. The moon had not yet risen, and the stars were incredibly bright behind the nets of shifting leaves.

Gwen pulled at her jeans. They were stiff and confining to sleep in. She sat up, alert, noticing what might have kept her awake. She couldn't hear the lake. There was no wind; it was absolutely silent outside, and very dark. She got out of her bed, her bare toes curling, repulsed by the cold, and gently, quietly walked to the screen door. She opened it slowly, hoping it would not give its usual jangle, and managed to shut it without incident. As Gwen stepped onto the damp, needle-covered ground, the smell of the previous rain assailed her. Wet, damp earth, green leaves and growing things. Even though everything's still, she thought, the trees are growing, and even the earth is turning inexorably towards the sun.

She turned towards the pier, and was startled by what she saw. The lake was so smooth that the stars were reflected off of its surface and, if not for the dark trees lining the horizon, it would have been undistinguishable from the sky. But it was not the grandeur of what lay before her that startled her, but rather one of the last things in the world she would have expected to see - a person, looking surprised to see her. He was not dark and shadowy like the surrounding forest; on the contrary, the light of the stars seemed to lend him a faint glow, so that there was nary a shadow about him. He had long hair, down to his shoulders, and old-fashioned robes that, while beautiful, looked like they had seen better days. He was holding a pole, and behind him a boat glimmered white under the light of the stars, a smooth leaf-shaped boat that didn't stir from where it was docked, for there was no wave to rock it.

He gripped the pole tighter, showing that he wasn't just a figment of her imagination. She took a step, and when she saw he was not frightened of her, she took a few more. More of the lake came into view, and she saw yet another strange sight - the island closest to their cabin was festooned with strange and unearthly lights, somehow suspended like stars at varying heights amongst the thick trees.

As she reached the edge of the dock, the man bowed to her slightly, his body still tense, and she approached him, frowning. He looked at her steadily, then motioned subtly for her to get in the boat. Gwen didn't move. Who was this stranger? Would he cart her off to who knows where, subjected to some horrible fate like those she read about in the papers? Visions of her body, bloodied and desolate by the side of some road fled through her mind as she flinched and took a step backwards. The man shrugged and stepped into the boat, making ripples in the surface of the lake. As he leaned over, his hair shifted, and his ears became visible.

They were pointed.

Not pointed in the curved, sharp-and-cruel way of Spock on Star Trek, but a delicate, leaf shape that was far more aesthetic and eye-pleasing.

It was at that moment that her body followed what her subconscious mind had been screaming for a long time, and she leapt into the boat.

It rocked, unsteadied by the force of her impact, and she reached desperately for the sides as her adrenaline kicked in and her mind began to question what she was actually doing. She decided to ignore it, losing herself in the moment. The man - no, she didn't know exactly what he was - dipped the pole into the water and pushed them off, poling towards the island like a Venetian gondola. They were not alone, as other boats were also being poled to the island, like leaves floating down a stream. As they got closer, Gwen's heart raced faster, for the unearthly lights glittered off the ripples of the water, as they floated among the trees like lanterns for a party. They were different colors, different sizes, but created an amazing effect. There was a general golden glow about the base of the trees, and she knew something was going on. She saw the faces of the people in the boats - tall and glimmering, fair, but sad and worn, like a rock that has been beaten by the ocean into a shadow of its former self.

Then they were at the island. Her...escort leapt nimbly out of the boat onto a rock, his body betraying his excitement, and he reached down to steady the boat, holding out a hand to help her out. She took it, stepping onto the rock and then the island itself. Her escort had chosen this spot, no doubt, because it was one of the only places where the thick trees parted enough to step foot onto land. Yet there were more wonders to see - more beautiful even than the stars spangling the lake. No - this was nothing less than a party (if the word could even describe it, for no party that Gwen had ever been to compared with this one.) There were both men and women feasting at long tables, flowers and leaves entwined in their long hair, laughing and drinking from sparkling goblets. The table was covered with fruits and breads, as well as fresh cream, and there was joy in their chatter but danger in their eyes. Gwen felt that at any moment they could run her through, or strike her down, or plunge her into the icy cold lake until the stars wove through her hair as in the vacuum of space.

She shivered unknowingly, for not only were these thoughts passing through her mind, but also achingly beautiful music - a clear voice raised over the murmur of the feast-goers, of harp and flute and drum and fiddle, so haunting that she could barely breathe. Some of the beings were dancing, turning their radiant faces towards one another, entwining their arms and whirling around. She turned towards her escort, noticing that he looked no longer weary and ancient as the weathered hills, but rather like a young tree, spry and full of life. He turned to meet her gaze and smiled, walking to where the others were dancing and joining them in the fray.

Recognition dawned on Gwen as she realized what she was seeing, leaping straight out of the pages of her storybooks. Fairies. The Fair Folk. Fay. Sidhe. Elves. Here the starlight didn't glimmer off them, instead the torches, candles and bonfires made them fiery angels, golden-bright in glory with eyes like the sun. Beauty and danger in one. The beat of the music thrummed through her, and she smiled, tapping a finger against her nightgown to the rhythm. The trees enfolded them, standing as silent watchers, forming a golden mead-hall. Someone stepped from the cold shore behind her into the light, moving quietly to stand beside her. She turned to look at him, and though he still reflected the fiery brilliance of the spectacle before her, he seemed more tangible somehow. His eyes were not sun-bright, rather, they were cornflower blue. His hair less resembled flame than the coppery fur of a fox, and it was shorter than the others', pulled back in a ponytail so that his delicately pointed ears were all the more startling.

He bowed to her - more a nod of acknowledgement of her presence - and murmured, "Greetings."

This startled Gwen, for thus far none of the Fair Folk had spoken to her. His voice was as a stream, but far more fluid were his movements. He gave her an amused smile and asked, "Who are you?"

As enamored as Gwen was by the sights before her, she had not lost her mind completely. Having read far more fairy-stories than, perhaps, was good for her, she knew one of the cardinal rules in dealing with the Folk - never give them your real name. So, she fell back on an old nickname.

"Cho," she said, Japanese for butterfly, a name given to her by a Japanese immigrant who had volunteered to watch Gwen and her brother when they were toddlers. The fairy man frowned. "That's not your name." Then he smiled. "Ah, silly me. You know your stories well." Gwen nodded sheepishly. "More likely," he continued, "you own one of the camps onshore. Most likely the Maddox camp, perhaps?" Something in her manner gave it away - perhaps a slight flinch at the name, and he smiled even broader. "Ah. It was only logical." Noting her tension, he rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to tell everyone, so relax. My name is Finrod."

Gwen stifled a laugh. Finrod? What kind of a name was that? She was surprised at how congenially and casually he spoke, something one wouldn't expect of a fairy. Then again, nothing there was as she would have expected. He offered her his arm and she took it, strolling alongside him into the clearing. Finrod leaned over and whispered, "You're shaking," and cocked an eyebrow. She laughed, and he continued talking with her. "Well, little Maddox girl, you seem to know your fairy stories, but is this your first time among my fair people?"

"Indeed," she replied, and he chuckled quietly. "What?" she demanded, indignant.

"Sorry, it's just... you said that so seriously. Few of the young humans I've met ever replies with ‘Indeed.'"

"You spend time among us?"

His face grew mockingly serious. "Indeed." And they both laughed. "But we're not as the stories always portray us, though," he continued.

"That much is obvious. How so?"

He hesitated, thinking. "For example, when we're here, we're not in our true form."

"Oh? What's your other forms, then?" Gwen asked.

"Well, you can just barely see aspects of it while we're in a revel, as you see here. See that girl, there?" He gestured and she followed his line of sight to a young woman with brownish hair and a gentle green gown. "She has leaves in her hair. Away from this gathering, she's a tree."

"A dryad?" Gwen asked.

Finrod frowned. "No. A dryad is a tree spirit."

"What? I don't understand." She sighed.

"Look. That girl, she has feathers for a cloak? She's a kingfisher in real life. And over there, that guy with the helmet? He's a centaur."

"Then what about him?' Gwen asked pointing at a young one clad in white.

"Well, he looks like that outside, too."

"What?" She screwed her eyes shut and tried to concentrate through the scintillating threads of music.

"You don't understand?" Finrod sounded amused.

"It's just difficult to concentrate."

"If you have any questions, I'm willing to answer..."

"Why?" she asked bluntly.

He seemed startled by this. "Why what?"

"Why would you be so willing to answer my questions? Aren't the Fair Folk supposed to be mysterious? I was practically invited here..."

He cocked his head, a bemused smile flitting across his face. "Because you might have more to do with us than you realize."

She squinted at him suspiciously. Suddenly he turned, changing the subject. "See the person at the head of the table?" The person had a golden circlet, laughing and drinking from his goblet as he talked with some women. "That is our king," Finrod's voice was dripping with scorn. "It is he who punishes disobedience with the sullying of our bodies."

"So the others weren't like that before?"

He shook his head. "Before, we were all the same."

"Who gave him the authority to do that?"

"A good question." Finrod smiled. He picked up a loaf of bread and broke it, eating a piece, and the offered her some.

Ah. Another cardinal rule when dealing with the Folk - never eat their food, or you could be ‘fairy-struck.' She politely rejected it, which made him smile again and give an appreciative nod. He continued walking with her. "To answer your question would require a great deal of time. Suffice it to say that he is our king."

Gwen frowned and turned towards him, trying to discern what his sullied form was. There were no leaves, no feathers, no décor that would indicate what it was. "What are you all, then? You all look like the same kind of race."

"Elves. We're all Elves."

"Oh." She shivered again, suddenly cold. Walking around in jeans made her feel naked next to all of the finery, but no one seemed to care. In fact, no one even glanced her way. It wasn't that they didn't care, but more of a sense that she was inferior and thus not worthy of being noticed.

One of the elves turned to address Finrod with a jeer. "What's with the Only?" Finrod ignored him. "Time for you to go," he murmured, and gently pushed her in the direction of the shore. He walked quickly and quietly behind her until they reached the rock where the boats lay waiting. He picked up a pole and jumped into the nearest one. Gwen hesitated, looking back at the glow of the trees, fully aware of the starlight and darkness behind her. This glimpse of the beautiful and fantastic made her hate the idea of returning to her dull existence. Finrod hissed, "Come on! You're fairy-struck!" and she turned, stepping into the boat.

The island slowly shrank behind them and she stuck her hand into the frigid water to remind herself of the real world around her. Then she mustered the courage to look at Finrod, who was busy looking at the shore. The warm glow of the fires had diminished, and it was replaced by the gentle silver of the stars. He looked weary, perhaps even more weary than her first escort, and then they were at her dock, the boat thumping against the wood. She stepped out - Finrod did as well - and walked along the rough boards to the shore. He gave her a wan smile, saying "I'll bet you were wondering what my form was."

She smiled sheepishly. "Yes. But I figured you didn't have one."

"No, I do." He looked down, and stepped off the dock onto the shore. Instantly the star-glow vanished, and his pointed ears shrank to rounded forms, his skin acquiring a few moles and blemishes. He stood before her astonished eyes, looking wholly human.

"There are a fair number of us who look human." He smiled and jerked a thumb towards the cabin - "You'd better get going. Get some sleep before dawn." She moved slowly towards the cabin as he walked towards the road. She turned to get a glimpse of him before he vanished into the trees.