The pact
Shazman
Planetoid
- Joined
- Jan 30, 2022
It was a crisp cold night on the mountain trail. It had been several hours of hiking to get this far, and though Hamund was lucky to have the light of the full moon he still kept a tight grip on his lantern and watched the shadows of the trees warily. The more skittish parts of his mind could swear he could see eyes watching him from the branches in the edges of his vision. It was with good reason that he felt nervousness in his heart. What he was planning to do tonight would easily be considered a great folly by the people of his village. He was traveling far from the safety of his home, of civilization, and into the deep woods. Into the wild. There was more than wolves and bears out here to make a man fearful. This was the realm of the fair folk. Many stories had been told to him as a child of what happened when you crossed paths with one. Mischievous, inscrutable, an capricious. Tricksters and curse bringers. Immortal beings of the wilds, wielders of old magics that delight in the games they play with mere mortals.
He was warned as a boy of how they would spirit away naughty children, never to be seen again. And as a young man he heard hushed stories of how their attention could ruin men's lives. To set someone to sleep an wake only when decades had passed an all their friends and family were gone. To transform them into deer and set their own hunting hounds upon them. How they might take memories of their own kin from them and make them a stranger in their own home. Steal their very names. Or even set plagues upon a village for a slight. All these frightening tales and more. Warnings of why one should never ever venture into the wilds alone. Why they should fear that forest and never travel at night.
And why you should never. Ever. Make a pact with one.
In spite of that trepidation he still pressed on. To do that very thing. He had too. He was desperate. Time was against him, and a life he held very dear to him was on the line. He told his not his siblings or his neighbors where he was going before he left. Leaving only a note to find if he never returned. They would have tried to stop him if he did. His destination was somewhere deep in the woods, up the mountain path. There in, local legend told of a place where one might meet such a creature of the fair folk. A grove where the owls gathered. There you would find such a grove just above the valley, that opened to a pond that could only be found when illuminated by the light of the moon.
It was a gamble. He didn't even know if such a place truly existed. But if by luck or the fates, he did finally happen upon it. A cool wind breezed through the grove when he reached the ponds edge, pulling gently at his overcoat as he stared out over the silver light reflected on the pool. A haggard breath escaped him, and he felt final hesitation. Years of folklore retold to him warned him of what was to come next. But when he thought of home, and what else he was to loose if turned back now...
He shook his head and undid the clasp of his pack. No, he was committed now. "Too late to turn back anyway Hamund." He muttered and retrieved what he was looking for. He remembered the steps told to him by the old codgers over the hearthfire. Burn a bit of incense, present a braid of white flowers and an offering. He had the first set out, lit the incense and set the flowers to its side. Moon lily's. A rare plant that only bloomed once a month. It had been a devil to find enough of them to weave together but he figured it better to pick out a plant with some value to it. And last the offering, something that was supposed to be the color of her hair. For that he brought out a cage containing with a bright scarlet red summer Tanger bird. That had been the hardest to get his hands on and required some patience and a lot of bird seed as bait.
He set all of this out on the ponds edge, and waited.
... And waited.
He was warned as a boy of how they would spirit away naughty children, never to be seen again. And as a young man he heard hushed stories of how their attention could ruin men's lives. To set someone to sleep an wake only when decades had passed an all their friends and family were gone. To transform them into deer and set their own hunting hounds upon them. How they might take memories of their own kin from them and make them a stranger in their own home. Steal their very names. Or even set plagues upon a village for a slight. All these frightening tales and more. Warnings of why one should never ever venture into the wilds alone. Why they should fear that forest and never travel at night.
And why you should never. Ever. Make a pact with one.
In spite of that trepidation he still pressed on. To do that very thing. He had too. He was desperate. Time was against him, and a life he held very dear to him was on the line. He told his not his siblings or his neighbors where he was going before he left. Leaving only a note to find if he never returned. They would have tried to stop him if he did. His destination was somewhere deep in the woods, up the mountain path. There in, local legend told of a place where one might meet such a creature of the fair folk. A grove where the owls gathered. There you would find such a grove just above the valley, that opened to a pond that could only be found when illuminated by the light of the moon.
It was a gamble. He didn't even know if such a place truly existed. But if by luck or the fates, he did finally happen upon it. A cool wind breezed through the grove when he reached the ponds edge, pulling gently at his overcoat as he stared out over the silver light reflected on the pool. A haggard breath escaped him, and he felt final hesitation. Years of folklore retold to him warned him of what was to come next. But when he thought of home, and what else he was to loose if turned back now...
He shook his head and undid the clasp of his pack. No, he was committed now. "Too late to turn back anyway Hamund." He muttered and retrieved what he was looking for. He remembered the steps told to him by the old codgers over the hearthfire. Burn a bit of incense, present a braid of white flowers and an offering. He had the first set out, lit the incense and set the flowers to its side. Moon lily's. A rare plant that only bloomed once a month. It had been a devil to find enough of them to weave together but he figured it better to pick out a plant with some value to it. And last the offering, something that was supposed to be the color of her hair. For that he brought out a cage containing with a bright scarlet red summer Tanger bird. That had been the hardest to get his hands on and required some patience and a lot of bird seed as bait.
He set all of this out on the ponds edge, and waited.
... And waited.
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