They sat to think and dream. But dreaming too close to a faerie circle can be dangerous. Fortunately, these beings were kind, and they got the person safe before they went too far into the maze. -- Anon Guest
It can be a terrible thing to have the soul of an artist. Especially if, like Haness, you were born into a woodcutting and herb-gathering family. Ze found hirself hoping for something more than ze had, but not knowing what it was or how to start getting it.
On the other hand, ze was really good at bird calls.
Many a lunch break was spent with that whistling and tapping hir hands or feet for the sound they made, or trying to strum the single string of hir bow. There was something there something ze couldn't quite reach. Something that simultaneously enriched the soul and drained it.
Enriched, because it was what hir spirit wanted more than anything. Drained, because ze only had so much time until ze had to go back to work. Chopping more branches, finding more ingredients, and otherwise collecting the things that would make hir family money enough to survive another winter.
There had to be more, but ze had never found it.
And, like the stories frequently said, once upon a time, ze took hir lunch in a dangerous place. Haness made it even more dangerous by playing to enliven hir soul... and then daring to fall asleep.
Right beside a Faerie ring.
Legend says that when the first stars fell on Alfarell, and the first Elves lit on the soil of the Mortal plane, the very ground their feet landed upon became a soft patch where mortality and magic merged. Legends say a lot of stuff, honestly, and some of it may even be true. Those patches of ground are doorways to Nanogh, the Plane of Magic. They're always marked with a ring of toadstools or mushrooms.
Larger ones are a lot more obvious. Purple grass or the tincture of twilight in the air. Strange sensations, or the taste of something too sweet to tolerate, assault those who wander too close. And if you hear something singing - no, you didn't.
In this case, it was Haness who did the singing. Where the Fae could hear. It was Haness who fell into a drowse. Where the Fae could take hir.
Since they can't create anything knew, Faeries and Faekindred have a penchant for taking those who can. Musicians. Storytellers. Players and Playwrights. Children.
Haness was lucky. The Seelie Fae had found hir. Just as hir dreams were coming to flesh-like reality.
For Haness, the dream was wonderful. The music ze hadn't known was music had turned into something deeper and more complex. Thousands of instruments ze couldn't name. Voices close to the angelic. Music that made hir heart ache to hear it. In the dream, ze was walking through a maze of hallways. Much like the Duke's hall when hir family had been called to make tribute when ze was seven. Only this time, ze wasn't carrying the brace of fat hares ze had caught that week.
The shoes ze wore were turning into good leather, then fine leather, then satin... then gold. The trews ze wore became fine hose of fine linen, then silk. The belt at hir waist became bedecked with gemstones.
Sleep, sleep, and you can have it all, the voices sang. We will give you many wonders. Just stop and rest. Dream inside your dream...
Fairies are beautiful. They enforce beauty. Faeries are marvellous. They beget marvels. Faeries are terrific. They spark terror.
Nobody ever said Faeries have to be kind.
The tables to the side of the hall were filled with treats. Fresh bread and good cider. Gamma's Midwinterfeast spice scrolls with honey glaze. Roast pheasant with all the trimmings. A hogshead and crackling right next to a gleaming suet duff and custard. The gemlike, incomprehensible luxuries that had been sitting on the Duke's table.
Just stop and take a bite. Rest here a while. Eat your fill and sleep. Dream inside your dream...
More than anything, Haness wanted to see where the music was coming from. How it was made. Ze wanted above any want to be able to make it.
There was someone beside hir. Impossibly beautiful. Clothed in things both richer than the richest thing that Haness knew, and things that were rubbish and dross. Nobody could have possibly worn spiderwebs and dead leaves in combination with exotic damask and gold-shot silk, yet this being did. And they made it look amazing.
They took Haness' hand. "Keep walking, and let me lead, good Bard. You are lost and wandering. I know the true way."
The side of the path held doorways, now. Through some were fine mansions. Through others, beautiful people.
Come and stay. Come and rest. Lust and love alike are yours if you wish. We shall sate all desires. Just sleep... Dream inside your dream...
"You're safe as long as they don't know what you want," said hir guide. "Don't let your gaze linger on anything or anyone. Don't say what you desire. We're almost there."
They were still walking along the long hallway, yet Haness gained the impression that they were taking turns left and right, and sometimes back the way they had come.
Now the portal showed violent things. Massacres. Bubbling jets of gore. Tortures so cruel that they could make any mortal ill just to think of them.
You can play too. Be the killer, be the killed. Be the violent. Be the one violence is done against. Just stay... Dream inside your dream.
One door showed hirself. Napping on a log with the remains of hir lunch by one knee. Hir guide took hir there.
Haness startled awake to see a tiny Faerie inches from hir nose. Dressed as they had been in the dream. Rich damask next to dead leaves and spiderwebs. "You're just as beautiful as the dream," ze said.
"You're lucky," said the Faerie. "Unbelievably lucky. They wanted to steal your spirit, and make you play for them for the rest of time. All because you played for us once. That is payment thrice through for the kindness I have done you. Ask of me two more boons, if you truly wish it, and they shall be given."
"I only ever wanted two things," said Haness. "The skill and the means to play music like I heard in that dream."
The Faerie kissed hir brow, and ze knew where to go to find an instrument. The rest would come as ze needed it.
"Remember to play to a ring once a year," the Faerie cautioned, "or some may come to find you and take you. Such is the price of a Faerie's favour."
As for the rest? Well. It depends on which story you read about it.
[Photo by Jed Owen on Unsplash]
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