The landscape of Underhill was altogether normal on first appearance. For a league or so thereabouts Alfred trudged, (and who used leagues anymore, really?) matching Aengus at his brisk drift while Adain slept peacefully in the soft nylon of Alfred’s sleeping bag. It was rather like a forest back home, in some ways, for the trees were ancient in a way that Arthur’s were not, from the constant clearing and farming. These trees were huge.
And that was the first thing Alfred noticed that was a little different: the trees. Or at least that’s what he thought. Maybe… oh it was weird, just weird, and he really didn’t want to seem crazy… but he was hearing whispers following them. Not, not Banshee whispers that was for sure… They weren’t… bad, per say, but… alright, they sounded a lot like teenage girls. And from his experience, teenage girls had never been invisible.
Alfred dawdled just a little as they passed through a clearing, listening. See, there it was! Definite giggling! “Hey Aengus, wait a sec!” Alfred ran up to where the ghost had gotten ahead, hearing the giggling on the wind. Alfred shuddered just a little. He had become a bit accustomed, with his movie star good looks, to getting giggling at the swimming pool, during sports matches, or really any time he had on tight fitting clothes. And while it was hilarious to see Arthur all possessive and protective and stuff (really, it was, especially when both of them knew Arthur had no competition), Alfred always found the female sex caught in the throes of hormone induced temporary insanity rather uncomfortable, even if he had learned to deal with them gracefully over time. See that was where the dazzling came in handy! Just dazzle them away! Or just show that he was with Arthur, that worked just as well too, and the PDA was a bit refreshing. Then the inevitable phrase “Oh, he’s gay, all the good ones are always gay!” and then perhaps “He didn’t look it!” and then maybe “I knew it from the minute I saw him.” Now that was funny. Because Alfred wasn’t actually gay; he was bi, as all nations were. But the girls didn’t need to know that and that was fine with Alfred. But really, this giggling!
Aengus had paused upon Alfred’s call, and Alfred quickly caught up. “Hey, do you hear… giggling?” Alfred said, a little embarrassed. Sure they were now in a land where there were possibly invisible teenage girls, but if there weren’t he didn’t want to seem crazy, especially to Aengus. “I mean, I know it’s weird and stuff, but if I just listen right…”
Aengus laughed again. “Oh that’s just the trees. Nothing to worry about.” Aengus’s mirth was displayed quite plainly on his face.
“The… the trees?” His stomach sunk with a weird sort of dread. He knew it! But of what he knew of Ents, they were old and male helped bring down evil wizards, not… girls giggling at skinny teenage boys.
“The dryads, see?” Aengus’s face was positively glowing, if a ghost’s face could glow. “They must ‘ave taken a liking to you. They like all the ‘andsome boys that go their way.” He smiled nostalgically. “I used to be giggled at too; I was raised in these parts. Midir was furious when I came ‘ere though.”
Great, more Greek mythology, not Lord of the Rings. Though he supposed Midsummer was set in Greece… And more details about this mysterious Midir guy. It seemed the only way anyone would tell him anything about this guy was indirectly. “Why? Umm… are the dryads dangerous?”
“Oh no, not the dryads! Pretty little things, but they like their freedom more than any man, usually. No, but the dangerous thing is the ‘ere and back again.” Aengus winked for reasons unknown to Alfred.
“Really?” Alfred asked with a new wave of tiredness hitting him. More danger! Apparently ghosts didn’t get tired or something!
“But that’s if you don’t know my way!” Aengus said triumphantly, smirking a little. “Midir didn’t find out until only two centuries ago that I wasn’t going by the Ærgeweorc Bridge! The entire river and canyon is ‘ome to trolls, see, so ‘e wasn’t too ‘appy that I ‘ad the chance to be eaten! It was just me and ‘im for the longest time, and ‘e was always so bloody overprotective! ‘E never quite believed that I could take care of myself.”
Alfred laughed freely. “That sounds a lot like Albia and I! When I was younger, you know! Always, ‘Don’t go here, you’ll get murdered!’ or ‘Bloody hell, don’t do that, you’ll get molested!’” Alfred added, pulling out his, according to Arthur anyways, rather bad imitation of a British accent.
“Exactly! Though you and Albia, from what I gather from Adain were a bit different.” Aengus looked at Alfred a little curiously. “Midir and I were foster parent and child and grew to be brothers.”
“Hmm, I guess so…” Alfred said, scrunching his face on one side as he thought about it. “Ar- Albia was never around much until I was a teenager, so it was… maybe more brothers to nothing? Well, the nothing was my doing because I wanted nothing to do with him anymore, wanted to be my own person! See the world, grow! You humans are so lucky, because you have ages and rites of passage and stuff for manhood. For nations, it’s different, and largely determined by yourself. If I hadn’t acted, I might still be under him, a runty fifteen year old or something. Midir had to let you go, right?”
“No ‘e didn’t.” Aengus said quietly, drifting to the side a little as they walked, the never changing afternoon sun shining through him. “The fae often don’t, but ‘e did, and that’s what made ‘im special, a bit different. I’ll always be grateful for that.”
There was silence for a minute or two as Alfred tried to think about what to say to that. Nothing really appropriate came to mind, and he wasn’t sure how Aengus would react to his normal babbling response, and he wanted to be liked by the man, so he opted to keep his mouth shut. But… what would life have been like if Arthur had just let him go, without all the fighting, or maybe accepted the Olive Branch? Or maybe if Alfred had just paid his taxes and bought the tea? It was a bit unfathomable to him. They certainly wouldn’t be where they were now, he could guarantee that. And he liked where they were now, well minus the whole crazy magical adventure thing. But what’s done had been done, for better or for worse.
Right then, enough moping. He really didn’t want to wake up Adain and hear the little dragon complaining about his thoughts again. Thoughts were thoughts for a reason you know! They were meant to be private! “So, so how are we going to get there?” Alfred asked.
“Oh, I have a very dear old friend, a gryphon who lives up in the cliffs of the Fífeldór. ‘E’ll ‘opefully take us across. You’ll probably ‘ave to pass a test. And be sure not to cheat or lie or anything. You can’t tell a lie in front a gryphon. I can’t even call you Tungolbyre, because that’s not your True Name, so therefore it’s a misrepresentation or something. So we’ll ‘ave to refer to each other with epithets and the like.” Aengus actually looked a little mischievous. “We’ll ‘ave fun. But yes, wonderful to have around, gryphons. Better than any truth potion. The fae can’t tell a lie as it is, but they can certainly misrepresent. They’re masters at it. ‘E can keep them ‘onest. Completely.”
Alfred laughed lightly. “He’d be great of have in a courtroom, that’s for sure. No one would get off for murder then!”
Aengus’s teeth-baring grin produced dimples. “Course, why do you think gryphons end up on so much ‘eraldry?”
Alfred smiled broadly, matching Aengus’s own very contagious one, but truth be told he didn’t know that much heraldry. He opened his mouth, and then…
Music. It drifted lazily on the wind, a tripsy, whimsical melody, played on pipes. Alfred twitched, trying to figure out where it came from. The music simply filled the space, filled every crevice and lightly took control of the air, riding on the breeze. Alfred listened hard. The giggling was gone.
“Hey Aengus…” Alfred said slowly. “What is that?”
“What’s what?” Aengus said, looking at him a little strangely.
“The music!” Alfred replied, becoming puzzled. Oh come on, how could he not hear this? It was everywhere!
Aengus was still eyeing him like he had grown a third head, but stopped and closed his eyes and listened. Alfred barely breathed, and the music was swirling around them like the outer tendrils of a spiral galaxy… And then something clicked. Alfred snatched the amulet from his blazer pocket, and pulled it over his neck.
“Agh!” Alfred cried, closing his eyes quickly as the light was blinding. He scrambled to grab the amulet and tug it back off over his head. Hell, what was that? He opened his eyes again, and blinked when he couldn’t see anything from the imprint of the past light on his eyes. “Damn!” He hated this! He was more damn blind than usual! Blind as a fucking bat! Shit! Shit, shit, shit!
Hmm? A groggy mumble echoed in Alfred’s brain. What’s all this fuss about then?
That almost made Alfred swear again as he blinked furiously to get rid of the afterimage. He really didn’t want Adain’s snide commentary at the moment. Why did the dragon have to wake up now?
“I told you not to wear that thing.” Aengus’s voice was chiding, something Alfred really didn’t appreciate. He took a deep breath and used the butt of his heels to rub his eyes. He felt the motion of the small dragon behind him rustling and turning. Ugh. Damn, he was awake. Though he did have to admit, if something weird (again, more weird than this place should be) was happening, Adain would be useful to have around.
Get me out of this thing! Adain called forcefully. Is something wrong? There’s magic everywhere!
“What do you mean, magic everywhere?” Aengus said, voice closer and tone resembling a cross between suspicious and worried now. The music was still playing, high and reedy.
Why didn’t I notice it earlier? Adain fretted as Alfred slipped the straps from his shoulders, and felt for, and then unzipped the pocket that contained Adain. I can feel it! Adain burst from the sack at the first opportunity, wings colliding with Alfred’s nose. Alfred gasped in pain as it began to bleed, blood running hot and fast down his face, and brought his right hand up to staunch the flow. He pulled his hand away for a moment, sight beginning to recover a little, and the first thing he saw was red blood on his hand. Alfred looked up, and Adain was high above their heads, flapping around in circles.
Alfred assumed the dragon could take care of himself for the moment, and dug around with his left hand inside his pack for his first aid kit. Why, why did he need this so soon? And from friendly fire too… The rip of sterile paper, wetness between his fingers, a wince as the alcohol swap touched gently on his nose. Nations healed fast, but infections sucked. Alfred grabbed his nose firmly in his left hand, and then firmly yanked his nose back into position. Oh, oh that hurt, it always did. He quickly ran fingers down his nose to make sure it was straight as Adain and Aengus debated about the nature of what was going on. Never good to heal incorrectly. Alright, the surface wound and the cartilage misalignment on the inside was all straightened out. The swab took care of the dried blood on his face. He was a-okay! Alfred grinned to himself. He wasn’t sure, but this music made him lose his tiredness and exhaustion, made him feel alive, put an itch into his shoes to move! His listened for a moment.
“Of course there’s magic, you birdbrain! This is Underhill!”
But there’s a lot! It’s, it’s not bad, but there’s way more than usual!
“And when was the last time you were down ‘ere? Back when Albia and Caledonia tried to rescue their brothers? How do you know how much magic is normal?”
By the eternal flame and Mother Universe, I’m made of magic, you numbskull! Don’t you remember the last time you didn’t trust me?
“That’s completely different, that was when – ”
At that, Alfred made a decision. Adain had said it wasn’t bad after all. “Alright, I’m going to find the source of this music. Come with me if you want.” And with that Alfred took off into the brush, following the tune on the breeze.
Music? Music? Adain said a little shrilly. What music?!
“See, told you boy, no music.” Aengus called from behind Alfred. He was close enough that Alfred assumed his was following.
“Yes there is!” Alfred insisted, pushing his way past a ribbonwood bush. “I can hear it!”
Suddenly, pain in his left shoulder again as claws sunk down into the tender flesh. “Damnit Adain! What the hell was that for?!” Alfred spun and shouted at the dragon.
Adain took off again to flap a foot from Alfred face. Beady yellow eyes stared into Alfred angrily. Didn’t you learn anything from faerie stories Albia told you when you were little? What happens usually when someone goes off following music only he can hear, Tungolbyre?
The tone grated on Alfred considerably, as it was everything he hated about Arthur’s lectures; the condescension and the patronizing, the overall making him feel like he was six! “I learned nothing from them because he was never around to tell them to me! And anyways, even when he was, none of them were real! Pagan, heathen nonsense, my people said!”
Adain flapped there for two beats, staring at Alfred inscrutably. I can see why Peaseblossom and Marigold don’t like you.
Alfred glared at the dragon, wondering if he might be better off without him. “Just listen, both of you! It’s there!” Alfred said as a particularly loud strain was carried to them by the breeze.
Aengus opened his mouth to speak, and then both of them stopped, twitching their heads to the side. After an excruciating fifteen seconds, Aengus looked directly at Adain. “Satyr song.” Alfred heard a mental gasp of agreement from Adain, who landed on a large rock, and Aengus was at his side in two long ghostly strides. “Look, you’ve never been and aren’t female, right?”
“Of course not, I – What does it matter?” Alfred asked, confused by their sudden concern. Weren’t they all fighting like half a minute ago? And then out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of movement.
He turned deftly, and his jaw dropped as a girl drifted through the woods, her manner drifting and light. But the really remarkable thing about her was her skin. It wasn’t normal, it was textured oddly, and it was… green. Not Martian green, but fern green, if he went by the Crayola crayon box. Her features were long and slender, as were her limbs, and she was, err, naked… Alfred turned his eyes away, blushing furiously. He laughed nervously as he turned back to Adain and Aengus.
The looks on both of their faces silenced him immediately. What was it? “Guys?”
“Any female can’t resist it, especially humans, though they’re less common in these parts.” Aegnus said softly. “The dryads, though, they’re drawn, see. To the song. They ‘ave no idea what’s going on.”
Wait, so… And then Alfred connected the dots. “No!” Alfred looked to both of them, and their silence confirmed it! The horror he felt was physical, and his stomach twisted and sunk and messed with his intestines and he wanted to throw up. “No, we can’t let this happen! We have to do something!”
And what do you hope to do, exactly? Adain’s words and tone were sharp. You heard that music! We knew you were susceptible to being enthralled! I believe the only reason you weren’t is because you’re a male! You shouldn’t risk getting closer!
“I don’t care!” Alfred gritted his teeth and balled his fists, bitten nails creating half-moons on his palms. How could they stand there and do nothing? What kind of person was he if he just let that happen? No, no, he could never live with himself if he did nothing… It was like, it was like Rohypnol, or GHB, or Ketamine! No, it was the right thing to do! He had to stop them!
“And ‘ow are you going to stop it?” Aengus asked gently. “You’re not exactly as ye used to be.”
“I don’t know, I don’t care, and I’ll think of something!” Alfred took a deep steadying breath. He could do this. He didn’t know how yet, but he would succeed, he always did. And he couldn’t not do anything. Alfred turned, slid his glasses up his nose with his middle finger, and started pushing through the underbrush at a quick pace.
Alfred heard leather wings hit wind and anxious voices both in his head and outside it. He blocked out both of them by simply focusing on economy of movement. He had to admit, this new body was much easier to move through skinny places. And no, he hadn’t been fat in the first place either! The satyr’s music was still floating on tendrils of the breeze, and as he pushed through a particularly thick thicket (resulting in some minor cuts with healed almost instantaneously) he caught sight of two more dryads half drifting, half dancing in the direction he was going. “Hey!” he called, hoping that the voice would startle them into awareness of what was going on! No dice. Damn! That made his job hard, really hard. How the hell was he going to stop this?
For about eight minutes, Alfred trailblazed through the forest, although the pines were gradually giving away to grass and beeches. The longer he travelled, the more girls he saw. This wasn’t fair! None of it was fair!
Alfred came to a clearing, and sprinted to catch up with a bark-colored girl, her chestnut hair intricately braided. He strained to put a hand on her shoulder, roughly grabbing her, pulling her to a stop. For a silent moment punctuated only by Alfred’s sharp breathing, there was a confused look on her face that for a split second turned to fear, and then it was gone with a few lilting notes again. Her face turned as blank as a doll’s, and she stood pliantly in front of him, a benign, empty smile on her lovely face.
Oh no, what? He thought he had something… Alfred grabbed her by both shoulders and began to shake her, telling her forcefully that she needed to leave. “Wake up, wake up! If you go any further, they’ll, they’ll!” Alfred’s voice broke. “Look, you can’t! Go back to your tree, go back to giggling! I don’t mind, I really don’t!” He dropped his hands from her slim frame.
She stood there for half a moment more, and then turned, and began her graceful dance in the direction of the music.
“Damn!” Alfred swore under his breath. He still had to stop this somehow! Alfred rubbed his palms on his pants, and followed her.
After two minutes more, he came to a much larger clearing, covered in grass and flowers. And there they were. About thirty of the dryads were dancing feverishly, gracefully in the yellow light, all shades of brown and green and cream. Off to the side stood around ten satyrs, playing their music. The only thing Alfred could do for a moment was stare in disbelief from his spot crouched in the bushes. He knew it was coming, but it was so odd to see half men, half goats! Their curly brown hair combined seamlessly into their clean upper bodies, with more hair on their forearms, matching the shade of the curls on their heads. One of them was sat on the ground, lounging on the grass while his plucked at his, what was it called, a lyre, right, and Alfred could see the cloven hooves. Alfred took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Their instruments ranged from pipes flute things to harps to recorders to weird guitars to shells to tambourines to horns, like actual horns! Weird instruments, just weird, everything about this place was weird. An odd side thought of Roderich drifted through his mind, about how he’d find this music, was quickly dismissed from his mind. Alfred needed to focus. How could he stop this, how could he stop this… His hands were on his thighs, and with a small fidget, his left wrist brushed against Bess’s holster. Perhaps… could he shoot them? Make them stop before they committed… It wasn’t self-defense, but it was in defense of another… And there was no guarantee at this distance he wouldn’t hit one of the girls in the process…
A cool, firm hand was placed gently on his shoulder, and Alfred looked up to see Aengus crouched next to him as well. “Come on, lad, we should get going before they stop playing the music.”
“What happens when they stop playing?” Alfred asked, though his squirming stomach already knew.
“That’s when the girls wake up and the chase begins.” Aengus said quietly. “It’s in their natures for this to ‘appen; it’s the way it all balances out.”
“How can they not see that what they’re doing is wrong?” Alfred’s eyes began to water a little, and he wiped them hurriedly.
“I told you, the fae aren’t like you and me.” Aengus replied. “They don’t ‘ave much in the way of empathy, or regret. That’s why those banshees guarded that gate. No fae would ‘ave fell prey to them, for they regret nothing.”
“Alright, alright.” Alfred didn’t need to be reminded of what went on there. What could he do? “What do satyrs like best in the world?” Alfred asked, hoping that if he gave them a choice, they’d choose the other.
“Wine and women.” Aengus answered shortly. “And unless you’ve got vast quantities of wine or a miracle tucked up your sleeve, this isn’t going to stop. Trust me, I tried many times in my youth.” Cool fingers wrapped around his forearm. “C’mon, you don’t wanna see this.”
Alfred’s mind was drawing a blank. Nothing. There was nothing he could do. He stood, Aengus’s guiding hands letting him have a moment before he was led away.
And then Alfred got a crazy idea. In a flash, he drew Bess and Amy, and then took careful aim. “What? What’re ye doing?” Aengus yelped from behind him, but Alfred didn’t focus on in, instead zeroing in on his target. Breathe in, breathe out, eyes closed, blink, eyes open, breathe in, focus, pull trigger.
Bang! The noise startled everyone in the clearing, and a tiny hole appeared in the side of a fat violin, interrupting the music. Bang! The shell shattered. No one in the clearing seemed to know what was going on. The satyrs looked everywhere for the source of the noise, the eight with instruments kept playing at a feverish pace to keep the girls dancing, though the dancing was a bit disjointed now with the loss of instruments. It would only be a minute or two before they saw him, he really wasn’t that far away. This was all so different from Narnia… Perhaps, perhaps they would stop now? He couldn’t hit the pipes without hitting the person behind them, same thing with the lyre…
As one the satyrs looked at each other and seemed to shrug, and then they all put down their instruments as one, stopping the music. Alfred’s breath hitched. The girls stopped dancing with a jolt, and blinked, dazed and confused. The satyrs stepped forward towards them, greedy fingers reaching for them.
With a scream, one of the girls, the same chestnut haired one Alfred had tried to awaken earlier, jumped and began running, and a shock went through everyone, who did the same.
Alfred stood, suddenly unconcerned about being seen, and trained his guns on the satyr chasing that same girl. He had to save her, if nothing else. Breathe in, breathe out, focus –
Bang! A great roar of thunder lashed through the air, and cold rain began to pour, the world suddenly becoming dark, the winds fierce. With a gasp, Alfred stumbled backwards from the unexpected force, landing on his rear. His glasses jumped on his nose, but didn’t fall off, thankfully. Bess and Amy landed in the mud. Around him, all the goat men and the girls ran off in different directions to escape the rain, unconcerned suddenly about what had been about to happen.
This struck Alfred as ridiculously funny, and he began to laugh lightly. So he couldn’t save them, but rain could. Who knew? And as ridiculous as it was, he began to whistle “Singin’ in the Rain”. Ahh, he loved Gene Kelly. Convenient rain… what was this, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, or perhaps Pleasantville?
“Oh c’mon…” Aengus growled sourly. “Let’s find Adain and get to shelter. It’ll take forever to dry out.”
Alfred looked at him incredulously. He really didn’t care about how drenched he was now, but it seemed Aengus did! Huh, ghosts could get wet! That simply made him laugh even harder, tiredness and victory and fading adrenaline making him a little loopy. All this earned him a glare from Aengus. Alfred picked up his guns from the ground with a ridiculous smile, and followed Aengus back in the direction they came.
Not too much to say about this one. This chapter is a bit of a set up chapter, so details will come back here. Also a bit more emotional. Alfred’s first saving someone without his superstrength, although it doesn’t go quite as planned… All three movies feature happy rain at the end. Also, dragon religion!
To you three who commented: Thanks a ton! I’m so glad this is so well received. Your questions will be answered in time! You keep me writing! (And I loved the cupcakes!)
I also have art for this, if you want me to post it. It helps me to see the characters when I write. There haven’t been very many visual details, as this is Alfred’s POV, and he doesn’t focus much on more than a few features. Instead of focusing on how things look, he focuses on how things move. When the narration changes, the detail selection will change as well. So if you want now to see how the characters look, give word!
Puzzle for this one: What is the instrument that Alfred shoots first?
You can sap the fellow from his strength, but you can't keep him from trying to be a hero. That's the core of this whole fill, and I liked this little example of it that it's still such a strength (and somewhat of a flaw) of his character). The scene with the dryads and the satyrs reminded me of "Fantasia." That is kind of the music that I imagined too, though I'm not sure why, since I have a very large collection of Celtic music.
All in all this was a pretty good set up chapter, I think that's because of the little action scene you gave Alfred. And, I loved Alfred's little internal monologue when he was being giggled at. It told a lot about his relationship with Arthur as well. That's one of my favorite thinks about your writing; you can be overtly writing about something but reference a lot of other things in the process that are still valuable pieces of information. And, it shows that he's so happy with his Arthur. This whole update has got my contemplating things that I can't quite put into words just yet.
As for your question: I think it is a viola. I think he would have recognised a cello as what it was, because you don't hold them the same way.
Even though they didn't in this part, I think it would be fun if the trees really did move. Never mind me though, that's the Lord of the Rings geek coming out in me...and you, well Alfred, brought it up first.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Crowe 7a/?
(Anonymous) 2012-08-07 09:38 pm (UTC)(link)And that was the first thing Alfred noticed that was a little different: the trees. Or at least that’s what he thought. Maybe… oh it was weird, just weird, and he really didn’t want to seem crazy… but he was hearing whispers following them. Not, not Banshee whispers that was for sure… They weren’t… bad, per say, but… alright, they sounded a lot like teenage girls. And from his experience, teenage girls had never been invisible.
Alfred dawdled just a little as they passed through a clearing, listening. See, there it was! Definite giggling! “Hey Aengus, wait a sec!” Alfred ran up to where the ghost had gotten ahead, hearing the giggling on the wind. Alfred shuddered just a little. He had become a bit accustomed, with his movie star good looks, to getting giggling at the swimming pool, during sports matches, or really any time he had on tight fitting clothes. And while it was hilarious to see Arthur all possessive and protective and stuff (really, it was, especially when both of them knew Arthur had no competition), Alfred always found the female sex caught in the throes of hormone induced temporary insanity rather uncomfortable, even if he had learned to deal with them gracefully over time. See that was where the dazzling came in handy! Just dazzle them away! Or just show that he was with Arthur, that worked just as well too, and the PDA was a bit refreshing. Then the inevitable phrase “Oh, he’s gay, all the good ones are always gay!” and then perhaps “He didn’t look it!” and then maybe “I knew it from the minute I saw him.” Now that was funny. Because Alfred wasn’t actually gay; he was bi, as all nations were. But the girls didn’t need to know that and that was fine with Alfred. But really, this giggling!
Aengus had paused upon Alfred’s call, and Alfred quickly caught up. “Hey, do you hear… giggling?” Alfred said, a little embarrassed. Sure they were now in a land where there were possibly invisible teenage girls, but if there weren’t he didn’t want to seem crazy, especially to Aengus. “I mean, I know it’s weird and stuff, but if I just listen right…”
Aengus laughed again. “Oh that’s just the trees. Nothing to worry about.” Aengus’s mirth was displayed quite plainly on his face.
“The… the trees?” His stomach sunk with a weird sort of dread. He knew it! But of what he knew of Ents, they were old and male helped bring down evil wizards, not… girls giggling at skinny teenage boys.
“The dryads, see?” Aengus’s face was positively glowing, if a ghost’s face could glow. “They must ‘ave taken a liking to you. They like all the ‘andsome boys that go their way.” He smiled nostalgically. “I used to be giggled at too; I was raised in these parts. Midir was furious when I came ‘ere though.”
Great, more Greek mythology, not Lord of the Rings. Though he supposed Midsummer was set in Greece… And more details about this mysterious Midir guy. It seemed the only way anyone would tell him anything about this guy was indirectly. “Why? Umm… are the dryads dangerous?”
“Oh no, not the dryads! Pretty little things, but they like their freedom more than any man, usually. No, but the dangerous thing is the ‘ere and back again.” Aengus winked for reasons unknown to Alfred.
“Really?” Alfred asked with a new wave of tiredness hitting him. More danger! Apparently ghosts didn’t get tired or something!
“But that’s if you don’t know my way!” Aengus said triumphantly, smirking a little. “Midir didn’t find out until only two centuries ago that I wasn’t going by the Ærgeweorc Bridge! The entire river and canyon is ‘ome to trolls, see, so ‘e wasn’t too ‘appy that I ‘ad the chance to be eaten! It was just me and ‘im for the longest time, and ‘e was always so bloody overprotective! ‘E never quite believed that I could take care of myself.”
Crowe 7b/?
(Anonymous) 2012-08-07 09:41 pm (UTC)(link)“Exactly! Though you and Albia, from what I gather from Adain were a bit different.” Aengus looked at Alfred a little curiously. “Midir and I were foster parent and child and grew to be brothers.”
“Hmm, I guess so…” Alfred said, scrunching his face on one side as he thought about it. “Ar- Albia was never around much until I was a teenager, so it was… maybe more brothers to nothing? Well, the nothing was my doing because I wanted nothing to do with him anymore, wanted to be my own person! See the world, grow! You humans are so lucky, because you have ages and rites of passage and stuff for manhood. For nations, it’s different, and largely determined by yourself. If I hadn’t acted, I might still be under him, a runty fifteen year old or something. Midir had to let you go, right?”
“No ‘e didn’t.” Aengus said quietly, drifting to the side a little as they walked, the never changing afternoon sun shining through him. “The fae often don’t, but ‘e did, and that’s what made ‘im special, a bit different. I’ll always be grateful for that.”
There was silence for a minute or two as Alfred tried to think about what to say to that. Nothing really appropriate came to mind, and he wasn’t sure how Aengus would react to his normal babbling response, and he wanted to be liked by the man, so he opted to keep his mouth shut. But… what would life have been like if Arthur had just let him go, without all the fighting, or maybe accepted the Olive Branch? Or maybe if Alfred had just paid his taxes and bought the tea? It was a bit unfathomable to him. They certainly wouldn’t be where they were now, he could guarantee that. And he liked where they were now, well minus the whole crazy magical adventure thing. But what’s done had been done, for better or for worse.
Right then, enough moping. He really didn’t want to wake up Adain and hear the little dragon complaining about his thoughts again. Thoughts were thoughts for a reason you know! They were meant to be private! “So, so how are we going to get there?” Alfred asked.
“Oh, I have a very dear old friend, a gryphon who lives up in the cliffs of the Fífeldór. ‘E’ll ‘opefully take us across. You’ll probably ‘ave to pass a test. And be sure not to cheat or lie or anything. You can’t tell a lie in front a gryphon. I can’t even call you Tungolbyre, because that’s not your True Name, so therefore it’s a misrepresentation or something. So we’ll ‘ave to refer to each other with epithets and the like.” Aengus actually looked a little mischievous. “We’ll ‘ave fun. But yes, wonderful to have around, gryphons. Better than any truth potion. The fae can’t tell a lie as it is, but they can certainly misrepresent. They’re masters at it. ‘E can keep them ‘onest. Completely.”
Alfred laughed lightly. “He’d be great of have in a courtroom, that’s for sure. No one would get off for murder then!”
Aengus’s teeth-baring grin produced dimples. “Course, why do you think gryphons end up on so much ‘eraldry?”
Alfred smiled broadly, matching Aengus’s own very contagious one, but truth be told he didn’t know that much heraldry. He opened his mouth, and then…
Music. It drifted lazily on the wind, a tripsy, whimsical melody, played on pipes. Alfred twitched, trying to figure out where it came from. The music simply filled the space, filled every crevice and lightly took control of the air, riding on the breeze. Alfred listened hard. The giggling was gone.
“Hey Aengus…” Alfred said slowly. “What is that?”
“What’s what?” Aengus said, looking at him a little strangely.
“The music!” Alfred replied, becoming puzzled. Oh come on, how could he not hear this? It was everywhere!
Crowe 7c/?
(Anonymous) 2012-08-07 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)“Agh!” Alfred cried, closing his eyes quickly as the light was blinding. He scrambled to grab the amulet and tug it back off over his head. Hell, what was that? He opened his eyes again, and blinked when he couldn’t see anything from the imprint of the past light on his eyes. “Damn!” He hated this! He was more damn blind than usual! Blind as a fucking bat! Shit! Shit, shit, shit!
Hmm? A groggy mumble echoed in Alfred’s brain. What’s all this fuss about then?
That almost made Alfred swear again as he blinked furiously to get rid of the afterimage. He really didn’t want Adain’s snide commentary at the moment. Why did the dragon have to wake up now?
“I told you not to wear that thing.” Aengus’s voice was chiding, something Alfred really didn’t appreciate. He took a deep breath and used the butt of his heels to rub his eyes. He felt the motion of the small dragon behind him rustling and turning. Ugh. Damn, he was awake. Though he did have to admit, if something weird (again, more weird than this place should be) was happening, Adain would be useful to have around.
Get me out of this thing! Adain called forcefully. Is something wrong? There’s magic everywhere!
“What do you mean, magic everywhere?” Aengus said, voice closer and tone resembling a cross between suspicious and worried now. The music was still playing, high and reedy.
Why didn’t I notice it earlier? Adain fretted as Alfred slipped the straps from his shoulders, and felt for, and then unzipped the pocket that contained Adain. I can feel it! Adain burst from the sack at the first opportunity, wings colliding with Alfred’s nose. Alfred gasped in pain as it began to bleed, blood running hot and fast down his face, and brought his right hand up to staunch the flow. He pulled his hand away for a moment, sight beginning to recover a little, and the first thing he saw was red blood on his hand. Alfred looked up, and Adain was high above their heads, flapping around in circles.
Alfred assumed the dragon could take care of himself for the moment, and dug around with his left hand inside his pack for his first aid kit. Why, why did he need this so soon? And from friendly fire too… The rip of sterile paper, wetness between his fingers, a wince as the alcohol swap touched gently on his nose. Nations healed fast, but infections sucked. Alfred grabbed his nose firmly in his left hand, and then firmly yanked his nose back into position. Oh, oh that hurt, it always did. He quickly ran fingers down his nose to make sure it was straight as Adain and Aengus debated about the nature of what was going on. Never good to heal incorrectly. Alright, the surface wound and the cartilage misalignment on the inside was all straightened out. The swab took care of the dried blood on his face. He was a-okay! Alfred grinned to himself. He wasn’t sure, but this music made him lose his tiredness and exhaustion, made him feel alive, put an itch into his shoes to move! His listened for a moment.
“Of course there’s magic, you birdbrain! This is Underhill!”
But there’s a lot! It’s, it’s not bad, but there’s way more than usual!
“And when was the last time you were down ‘ere? Back when Albia and Caledonia tried to rescue their brothers? How do you know how much magic is normal?”
By the eternal flame and Mother Universe, I’m made of magic, you numbskull! Don’t you remember the last time you didn’t trust me?
“That’s completely different, that was when – ”
At that, Alfred made a decision. Adain had said it wasn’t bad after all. “Alright, I’m going to find the source of this music. Come with me if you want.” And with that Alfred took off into the brush, following the tune on the breeze.
Music? Music? Adain said a little shrilly. What music?!
Crowe 7d/?
(Anonymous) 2012-08-07 09:44 pm (UTC)(link)“Yes there is!” Alfred insisted, pushing his way past a ribbonwood bush. “I can hear it!”
Suddenly, pain in his left shoulder again as claws sunk down into the tender flesh. “Damnit Adain! What the hell was that for?!” Alfred spun and shouted at the dragon.
Adain took off again to flap a foot from Alfred face. Beady yellow eyes stared into Alfred angrily. Didn’t you learn anything from faerie stories Albia told you when you were little? What happens usually when someone goes off following music only he can hear, Tungolbyre?
The tone grated on Alfred considerably, as it was everything he hated about Arthur’s lectures; the condescension and the patronizing, the overall making him feel like he was six! “I learned nothing from them because he was never around to tell them to me! And anyways, even when he was, none of them were real! Pagan, heathen nonsense, my people said!”
Adain flapped there for two beats, staring at Alfred inscrutably. I can see why Peaseblossom and Marigold don’t like you.
Alfred glared at the dragon, wondering if he might be better off without him. “Just listen, both of you! It’s there!” Alfred said as a particularly loud strain was carried to them by the breeze.
Aengus opened his mouth to speak, and then both of them stopped, twitching their heads to the side. After an excruciating fifteen seconds, Aengus looked directly at Adain. “Satyr song.” Alfred heard a mental gasp of agreement from Adain, who landed on a large rock, and Aengus was at his side in two long ghostly strides. “Look, you’ve never been and aren’t female, right?”
“Of course not, I – What does it matter?” Alfred asked, confused by their sudden concern. Weren’t they all fighting like half a minute ago? And then out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of movement.
He turned deftly, and his jaw dropped as a girl drifted through the woods, her manner drifting and light. But the really remarkable thing about her was her skin. It wasn’t normal, it was textured oddly, and it was… green. Not Martian green, but fern green, if he went by the Crayola crayon box. Her features were long and slender, as were her limbs, and she was, err, naked… Alfred turned his eyes away, blushing furiously. He laughed nervously as he turned back to Adain and Aengus.
The looks on both of their faces silenced him immediately. What was it? “Guys?”
“Any female can’t resist it, especially humans, though they’re less common in these parts.” Aegnus said softly. “The dryads, though, they’re drawn, see. To the song. They ‘ave no idea what’s going on.”
Wait, so… And then Alfred connected the dots. “No!” Alfred looked to both of them, and their silence confirmed it! The horror he felt was physical, and his stomach twisted and sunk and messed with his intestines and he wanted to throw up. “No, we can’t let this happen! We have to do something!”
And what do you hope to do, exactly? Adain’s words and tone were sharp. You heard that music! We knew you were susceptible to being enthralled! I believe the only reason you weren’t is because you’re a male! You shouldn’t risk getting closer!
“I don’t care!” Alfred gritted his teeth and balled his fists, bitten nails creating half-moons on his palms. How could they stand there and do nothing? What kind of person was he if he just let that happen? No, no, he could never live with himself if he did nothing… It was like, it was like Rohypnol, or GHB, or Ketamine! No, it was the right thing to do! He had to stop them!
“And ‘ow are you going to stop it?” Aengus asked gently. “You’re not exactly as ye used to be.”
“I don’t know, I don’t care, and I’ll think of something!” Alfred took a deep steadying breath. He could do this. He didn’t know how yet, but he would succeed, he always did. And he couldn’t not do anything. Alfred turned, slid his glasses up his nose with his middle finger, and started pushing through the underbrush at a quick pace.
Crowe 7e/?
(Anonymous) 2012-08-07 09:46 pm (UTC)(link)For about eight minutes, Alfred trailblazed through the forest, although the pines were gradually giving away to grass and beeches. The longer he travelled, the more girls he saw. This wasn’t fair! None of it was fair!
Alfred came to a clearing, and sprinted to catch up with a bark-colored girl, her chestnut hair intricately braided. He strained to put a hand on her shoulder, roughly grabbing her, pulling her to a stop. For a silent moment punctuated only by Alfred’s sharp breathing, there was a confused look on her face that for a split second turned to fear, and then it was gone with a few lilting notes again. Her face turned as blank as a doll’s, and she stood pliantly in front of him, a benign, empty smile on her lovely face.
Oh no, what? He thought he had something… Alfred grabbed her by both shoulders and began to shake her, telling her forcefully that she needed to leave. “Wake up, wake up! If you go any further, they’ll, they’ll!” Alfred’s voice broke. “Look, you can’t! Go back to your tree, go back to giggling! I don’t mind, I really don’t!” He dropped his hands from her slim frame.
She stood there for half a moment more, and then turned, and began her graceful dance in the direction of the music.
“Damn!” Alfred swore under his breath. He still had to stop this somehow! Alfred rubbed his palms on his pants, and followed her.
After two minutes more, he came to a much larger clearing, covered in grass and flowers. And there they were. About thirty of the dryads were dancing feverishly, gracefully in the yellow light, all shades of brown and green and cream. Off to the side stood around ten satyrs, playing their music. The only thing Alfred could do for a moment was stare in disbelief from his spot crouched in the bushes. He knew it was coming, but it was so odd to see half men, half goats! Their curly brown hair combined seamlessly into their clean upper bodies, with more hair on their forearms, matching the shade of the curls on their heads. One of them was sat on the ground, lounging on the grass while his plucked at his, what was it called, a lyre, right, and Alfred could see the cloven hooves. Alfred took a few deep breaths to calm himself. Their instruments ranged from pipes flute things to harps to recorders to weird guitars to shells to tambourines to horns, like actual horns! Weird instruments, just weird, everything about this place was weird. An odd side thought of Roderich drifted through his mind, about how he’d find this music, was quickly dismissed from his mind. Alfred needed to focus. How could he stop this, how could he stop this… His hands were on his thighs, and with a small fidget, his left wrist brushed against Bess’s holster. Perhaps… could he shoot them? Make them stop before they committed… It wasn’t self-defense, but it was in defense of another… And there was no guarantee at this distance he wouldn’t hit one of the girls in the process…
A cool, firm hand was placed gently on his shoulder, and Alfred looked up to see Aengus crouched next to him as well. “Come on, lad, we should get going before they stop playing the music.”
“What happens when they stop playing?” Alfred asked, though his squirming stomach already knew.
“That’s when the girls wake up and the chase begins.” Aengus said quietly. “It’s in their natures for this to ‘appen; it’s the way it all balances out.”
Crowe 7f/?
(Anonymous) 2012-08-07 09:48 pm (UTC)(link)“I told you, the fae aren’t like you and me.” Aengus replied. “They don’t ‘ave much in the way of empathy, or regret. That’s why those banshees guarded that gate. No fae would ‘ave fell prey to them, for they regret nothing.”
“Alright, alright.” Alfred didn’t need to be reminded of what went on there. What could he do? “What do satyrs like best in the world?” Alfred asked, hoping that if he gave them a choice, they’d choose the other.
“Wine and women.” Aengus answered shortly. “And unless you’ve got vast quantities of wine or a miracle tucked up your sleeve, this isn’t going to stop. Trust me, I tried many times in my youth.” Cool fingers wrapped around his forearm. “C’mon, you don’t wanna see this.”
Alfred’s mind was drawing a blank. Nothing. There was nothing he could do. He stood, Aengus’s guiding hands letting him have a moment before he was led away.
And then Alfred got a crazy idea. In a flash, he drew Bess and Amy, and then took careful aim. “What? What’re ye doing?” Aengus yelped from behind him, but Alfred didn’t focus on in, instead zeroing in on his target. Breathe in, breathe out, eyes closed, blink, eyes open, breathe in, focus, pull trigger.
Bang! The noise startled everyone in the clearing, and a tiny hole appeared in the side of a fat violin, interrupting the music. Bang! The shell shattered. No one in the clearing seemed to know what was going on. The satyrs looked everywhere for the source of the noise, the eight with instruments kept playing at a feverish pace to keep the girls dancing, though the dancing was a bit disjointed now with the loss of instruments. It would only be a minute or two before they saw him, he really wasn’t that far away. This was all so different from Narnia… Perhaps, perhaps they would stop now? He couldn’t hit the pipes without hitting the person behind them, same thing with the lyre…
As one the satyrs looked at each other and seemed to shrug, and then they all put down their instruments as one, stopping the music. Alfred’s breath hitched. The girls stopped dancing with a jolt, and blinked, dazed and confused. The satyrs stepped forward towards them, greedy fingers reaching for them.
With a scream, one of the girls, the same chestnut haired one Alfred had tried to awaken earlier, jumped and began running, and a shock went through everyone, who did the same.
Alfred stood, suddenly unconcerned about being seen, and trained his guns on the satyr chasing that same girl. He had to save her, if nothing else. Breathe in, breathe out, focus –
Bang! A great roar of thunder lashed through the air, and cold rain began to pour, the world suddenly becoming dark, the winds fierce. With a gasp, Alfred stumbled backwards from the unexpected force, landing on his rear. His glasses jumped on his nose, but didn’t fall off, thankfully. Bess and Amy landed in the mud. Around him, all the goat men and the girls ran off in different directions to escape the rain, unconcerned suddenly about what had been about to happen.
This struck Alfred as ridiculously funny, and he began to laugh lightly. So he couldn’t save them, but rain could. Who knew? And as ridiculous as it was, he began to whistle “Singin’ in the Rain”. Ahh, he loved Gene Kelly. Convenient rain… what was this, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, or perhaps Pleasantville?
“Oh c’mon…” Aengus growled sourly. “Let’s find Adain and get to shelter. It’ll take forever to dry out.”
Alfred looked at him incredulously. He really didn’t care about how drenched he was now, but it seemed Aengus did! Huh, ghosts could get wet! That simply made him laugh even harder, tiredness and victory and fading adrenaline making him a little loopy. All this earned him a glare from Aengus. Alfred picked up his guns from the ground with a ridiculous smile, and followed Aengus back in the direction they came.
Crowe 7g/?
(Anonymous) 2012-08-07 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)To you three who commented: Thanks a ton! I’m so glad this is so well received. Your questions will be answered in time! You keep me writing! (And I loved the cupcakes!)
I also have art for this, if you want me to post it. It helps me to see the characters when I write. There haven’t been very many visual details, as this is Alfred’s POV, and he doesn’t focus much on more than a few features. Instead of focusing on how things look, he focuses on how things move. When the narration changes, the detail selection will change as well. So if you want now to see how the characters look, give word!
Puzzle for this one: What is the instrument that Alfred shoots first?
Comments make me smile!
Re: Crowe 7g/?
(Anonymous) 2012-08-07 10:52 pm (UTC)(link)Dunno, Alfie got lucky there. Angry satyrs can be nasty. The giggling trees was funny, though.
Re: Crowe 7g/?
(Anonymous) 2012-08-08 01:03 am (UTC)(link)This was a wonderful chapter! I love how Alfred's hero instinct is still intact even if he doesn't have his strength. Great job, keep it up!
Re: Crowe 7g/?
(Anonymous) 2012-08-08 01:43 pm (UTC)(link)All in all this was a pretty good set up chapter, I think that's because of the little action scene you gave Alfred. And, I loved Alfred's little internal monologue when he was being giggled at. It told a lot about his relationship with Arthur as well. That's one of my favorite thinks about your writing; you can be overtly writing about something but reference a lot of other things in the process that are still valuable pieces of information. And, it shows that he's so happy with his Arthur. This whole update has got my contemplating things that I can't quite put into words just yet.
As for your question: I think it is a viola. I think he would have recognised a cello as what it was, because you don't hold them the same way.
Even though they didn't in this part, I think it would be fun if the trees really did move. Never mind me though, that's the Lord of the Rings geek coming out in me...and you, well Alfred, brought it up first.