The wind blows low and mournful
Through the Strath of Dalnacreich
Where once there lived a woman
Who would a mother be
For twelve long years a good man's wife
But ne'er the cradle filled
A mother of a changeling child from 'neath the fairy hill
Clodaugh sat in front of the witch doctor, who was staring at her palm with strong interest. "Well, Deidre, what do you see?" she snapped. "Am I to have a child, or not?"
"Patience, Clodaugh!" the witch snapped. "The Fae do not speak until they are ready!"
"Well, they'd better be ready soon," Clodaugh huffed. "I have been married to Bryther for twelve long years; we have been trying for a child since our wedding day. But Mother Earth has not blessed us with fruitfulness. We are growing desperate! Who will take care of us in our old age?"
"Patience, Clodaugh," Deidre repeated, much more gently. "You may be destined for another path."
"Another path? What other path? I am a woman; the only path the Fae have laid out for me is motherhood!"
"Perhaps, even though you do not have Mother Earth's blessing, you might be able to be a mother," Deidra murmured, her eyes never leaving Clodaugh's palm.
"How?"
"The Fae say you are destined to care for an existing child. Now, listen to me. I will tell you what to do…"
She travelled to the standing stones
And crossed into the green
Where all the host of elven folk
Were dancing there unseen
Through the night she bargained
With the Queen of Fairies all
Who sent her home at dawning with a babe beneath her shawl
It was midnight, on the night of the full moon. Clodaugh went over in her mind all of the instructions Deidra told her to do.
Clodaugh shivered. She was covered only with her thin white nightgown, and a black cloak, and it was just about enter leaf-fall. She kept repeating in her head, This will be over soon. And think about it; after all of this, you'll have a beautiful child to hold!
This thought made a dreamy smile melt onto her face, and she kept herself going on her mission to the standing stones, by thinking about her child. Will it be a handsome boy, who will work in the fields with Bryther? Or will it be a lovely girl-child, who I will to teach to cook, and clean, and sew?
Before she knew it, she was standing in the shadows of the standing stones. Keeping to said shadows, she crept on tiptoe along the shadows. She stopped, and held her breath when she heard pipes and laughter.
Nervously, she crept into the moonlight, and she audibly gasped at the sight she saw. Fae. Lots and lots of Fae. Clodaugh didn't know what she had been imagining the Fae would look like. Perhaps normal humans, only with wings? She didn't know, but what she saw shocked her. They were much smaller than an average human; the biggest appeared to be the size of a good-sized rat. Another thing she saw was that they were clothed in fabrics in colors that even Clodaugh didn't know how to dye, from the palest lemon, to the darkest purple.
They were dancing around the green, to the music of panpipes, laughing and playing. And in the middle of them all was a woman. She was the largest of them all; the size of an average (though petite) woman. She was beautiful. Her skin was tinted a light green, and she had leaves growing out of her earth-brown hair. Her wings were magnificent; the size of what a dragonfly's wings would be, had it been the size of a human being. Her ears, like all of the other Fae, narrowed at the tips, into points.
Clodaugh recognized her instantly. She was Mother Earth.
She didn't even think what to do next; she was too elated at the thought of a child to think. She dashed to Mother Earth, not even caring the Fae stopped dancing, and were staring at her, horrified.
"Mother Earth, Mother Earth!" Clodaugh panted. "I have something to ask of you! Please listen to me!"
Mother Earth looked at her, and raised her hands. "Hush. Let us hear what the mortal has to say." She looked at Clodaugh. "What is your name?"
"C-Clodaugh, wife of Bryther. I have come to ask a request from you…if it's not too much trouble. My clan's witch, you see, said that the Fae had a destiny for me. The destiny to raise a child."
Through the night, she bargained with Mother Earth. In the end, they came up with a deal.
"So, I give you a child," Mother Earth said. "But, once he is grown, you must relinquish him to me. He has a great destiny of his own. He is not a normal child, let me assure you of that. He will be very hard to care for. Do you understand that? You must care for him as if you have the lives of your entire nation on your shoulders. Do you accept my offer?"
"I accept! Yes, yes! I want a child so much! I will care for him as if he was my own son!" Clodaugh breathed. Many years later, she would curse herself for saying these words. But, now, all she felt was excitement and euphoria for the fact that she was going to be a mother.
Mother Earth gave her a solemn, pitying look. After a moment, she nodded. As if it was there the whole time, Mother Earth reached into her cloak, and brought out a tiny, newborn baby boy. He was human. His pale ears were rounded. His hair was the color of fresh hay, and his eyes were the green of fresh grass.
He was the most beautiful thing Clodaugh had ever seen. She took the child in her arms, and cradled him against her breast. He gurgled, and clutched at her nightgown.
"Go, and never tell anyone where you found him," Mother Earth said.
Clodaugh nodded, and ran away, hiding the babe beneath her cloak.
How their home was joyful
With a son to call their own
But soon they saw the years that passed
Would never make him grow
The fairies would not answer her
The stones were dark and slept
A babe was all she asked for, and their promises they'd kept
Clodaugh looked up from the dough she was kneading at the sound of Bryther's laughter. He was bouncing the boy on his knee, who laughed and squealed. He looked up at Clodaugh, and said, "See, Clodaugh, I'm giving him practice for riding horses! He'll need to, if he wants to become a messenger!"
"A messenger? But, you're just a field worker; why would the child be any different?"
"Isn't it nice to want the best for our son?"
"It is…" Clodaugh murmured.
How blissful it was, that time. They thought the baby was a normal human. The first birthday passed. The baby was no different from a newborn. Clodaugh and Bryther laughed off their worry. It was just the year's famine that made him small. That was all. Then the second birthday passed. And the third. And the fourth. The baby didn't grow.
It was the fifth birthday that Clodaugh remembered Mother Earth's warning. Like that same day five years ago, she ran at midnight on the full moon to the standing stones. She looked in horror at the sight she saw. Nothing. No dancing Fae. No green-skinned woman with dragonfly wings. Just stones.
As she ran back home, with tears dripping from her cheeks, she could almost hear the wind saying, We warned you. We kept our promise.
The wind blows low and mournful
Through the Strath of Dalnacreich
Where once there lived a woman
Who would a mother be
For fifty years she rocked that babe
It's said she rocks him still
A mother of a changeling child from 'neath the fairy hill
Clodaugh sighed as she looked down at the sleeping babe cradled in her arms. Still no growth. And that was fifty years ago. Fifty years. Clodaugh was an old widow now, many years having passed since Bryther's death. All of her life thrown away, in that one "Yes."
Part of her wanted to kill the babe, to free her from the curse riddled upon her by Mother Earth. But the other, more rational part told her that she couldn't, even if she had the heart and stomach to (which she didn't). She didn't know why. There was something weird about the baby; whether it was that he wouldn't die, or that he could, but she would anger some horrid, malicious being if she killed him. So, she was stuck with him, until the day she died.
When he gets to be of age, you will relinquish him to me, Mother Earth said.
"I suppose that means when I die, doesn't it, Arthur?" Clodaugh cackled at the baby. He just cooed in response.
A mother of a changeling child from 'neath thefairy hill