Faeries and the Fruit

Written by the bard Darcinian, who witnessed the telling of this story by a Visari elder, recited to a group of rootborn children in a village near Lorithal. It was donated to the Imperial Archives upon his return to Timbur Deep in the year 722 CR.

The Faeries and the Fruit

In ages past under a throne of stars,
A small farm grew among the others,
This farm was not one of peace,
And there was strive between the farmer and his daughter.

The farmer was old and wise,
His daughter young and eager,
He wanted her married to another,
She was arrogant and thought herself wiser,
And thought no better of her mother.

The girl left her farm,
Ran into the woods,
Ran and ran and ran,

The old woman stomps her feet to mimic running, drawing a laugh from the children.

Finally!
The girl came to a grove near the coast,
A region no one else had visited before,
And there she found something she didn’t expect,
A fruit of red and purple,

She looks at them with a toothless grin, nodding.

The first plum tree in the Heartlands.

The girl stole a fruit and took a bite,
It was delicious, of course,
But it was not hers to take,

The woman wags her finger at the children.

What do you think?
Was she right to take it?

The children shout different answers. The old woman laughs with them. Then she claps her hands and her face straightens, startling the children.

He was upon her at once!
The fae brute!
Callous hands around her shoulders,
And she found herself pinned to the ground.

The woman smiles and nods.

She couldn’t even speak, you know, she was too scared.

He took the girl prisoner,
Told her she would become his servant,
A punishment for her transgression,
All for a plum,
Was it really the plum?

The children shout “No!” and the woman nods.

It was her defiance that drove her there,
To that estate on the coast,
And there she would stay,
For the rest of the fall,
And the winter,
And the spring.

The woman pauses, waiting for the children to speak. When they open their mouth, she continues before any words come.

A curious thing happened,

She grins, raising one finger and winking at the children.

There in the winter,
In the home of the fae,
The girl’s wit cut through his gruff,
And the fae, children, fell in love with the girl.

The children giggle. The woman continues.

She made him laugh,
Perhaps the first time in ages,
He’d told her he’d lived many lifetimes,
And found none to be so beautiful,
So fair,
And alive.

You see, children, the fae are not like us,
They do not come from song and tree,
No root or vine,
They drown in formality,
And wallow in sadness.

The children release a chorus of low murmurs.

The girl loved the fae too,
Not at first, of course,

The woman shook her head.

But over time,
She loved that he was big,
Bigger than the other farmers,
His smooth skin, paler than hers,
And his face, sharp and full of angles.

One of the children shouted: “Brick face!” This drew a round of laughs from the children, and even the old woman.

By the spring the fae lord wanted to marry her!

The children quiet again, listening.

The girl wanted to marry him too,
They’d already been together for some time,
Or many times,

The woman adds a wink there too.

But she had a condition,
Something she wanted from him,
She wanted to see her home again,
Before she would become his wife.

The fae lord agreed,
And so in the spring,
When the snow cleared,
He took her back to her home,
And they didn’t go alone.

The woman pauses here again.

He took an army,
And the fae conquered her homeland,
The fae kept his promise,
And took her to her home,
Now as a fae-queen.

The children gasped.

The fae slaughtered many,
All who resisted,
The rest?
Slaves of them all.

For three long years the fae ruled over them,
And the girl was sad,
She didn’t want this,
But the fae lord had not lied,
He kept his word to her.

One child asks innocently: “The fae made the farmers be slaves?” He sounds sad when he asks. The woman nods with a compassionate smile.

Slaves of them all,
But a slave does not want to stay a slave forever.

She paces across the floor.

The villagers came up with a plan,
To cast out the fae,
And save the farmer’s daughter,
The fae-queen who used to be one of them,
So they gathered together and once again,
War broke out in the land.

They kidnapped the fae-queen,
Her father and the others did,
They hid her away,
Convinced the fae lord his queen had died,
And he was enraged.

They slaughtered the villagers by the dozens,
And fae fell as well,
The fae prince lost his hand in the battle,
Then quiet.

She whispers for the children to remain quiet.

Quiet.
The fae had gone,
Back to their home,
Back further still,
Away from the people, Gone, gone, gone.

She flutters her hands into the air as she repeats the words.

The people kept no tenderness,
They told the girl the fae lord had died,
Gave her his hand as proof,
It still wore the ring,
The one she’d placed on his finger years before.

A child sniffles.

The girl cried,
She cried, she cried, she cried,
She ran away,
Again,
To the place where she found him,
The plums were all that remained,
Dried on the ground beneath the trees.

The old woman smiles at the children.

She took the seeds,
And planted them near her home,
She hoped that one day,
It would lead his spirit to her.

She pauses again.

It never did, children,
It never did.