Disclaimer for the entire story: Sadly, I do not own Strange Magic, although I do have the DVD that I play once a week. All events, names, and places are coincidental. Enjoy the story!
Somehow, watching several versions of the nutcracker started this. I apologize for poorly written fight scenes but this story fought against me from the start.
Chapter 1
"Once upon a time, not so long ago, in the realm of the fae there dwells two kingdoms side-by-side. One is of the forest and the other of the field, each with creatures suited to it. Both had a royal family that lasted throughout generations for longer than anyone could remember and both had a young king sitting on the throne, the last of their royal line. That, however, was the end to their similarities. For while they were not at war, many of both kingdoms could barely tolerate the other because they were also different.
In the forest kingdom there dwells goblins, trolls, gremlins, forest fairies, and forest sprites. There is also an imp that took residence there but nobody is sure where he came from. In the field kingdom there dwells elves, brownies, field pixies, field fairies, and field sprites. They were similar but they were different.
One day, the forest king had found his true love but his love was in a far-off kingdom and could not return with him to his own. He had a hard decision to make but make it he did. He crossed the border for an audience with the field king and in the presence of their counselors a pact was made and an oath was sworn.
I, King of the Field, do swear to ye, King of the Forest, to treat yer subjects as ye would until yer return, on crown and kingdom do I pledge.
With such an assurance, the forest king left his counselors in charge of the forest and put his crown aside. It was sorrowful to leave his home but the kisses of his new bride..."
"Ewww! Leave out the mushy stuff, Da," the six-year-old complains!
Loch laughs heartily while Griselda looks on fondly from her rocking chair, barely covering her own snickering. Bog glares up at his parents before turning to stare into the fireplace. The winter storm rattles the windows, making the child shake but he stubbornly holds his place.
"Come now, my little prince. Don't be like that," Loch murmurs, dragging his son into his lap. "We're not making fun of ye just because we laugh about something ye said. We just find it funny that in a few years ye'll be changing yer tune about the mushy stuff."
"No way," Bog insists! "Girls have cooties!"
"Is that so," Loch asks, grinning up to his wife? "Where'd ye hear this from?"
"The lad that moved into Grandda's house told me and he knows a lot because he's nine," Bog answers.
"I think I'm a little older than nine," Loch states is mock seriousness. "Don't ye think I'd tell ye if girls really did have cooties? I kiss Ma all the time and I haven't caught them, neither have ye."
"That's true," Bog mutters. "Angus didn't say whether ma's have cooties but they're girls too and I saw his ma giving him lots of kisses. I wasn't sure he was right but he is older so I thought he would know more. I should've asked ye because ye know everything, Da."
Loch's deep laughter rumbles against Bog's back and soon the boy's laughter rings with as large hands tickle. Pushing them both off the floor, Loch spins around several times before dropping into his armchair.
"Let no one persuade ye to do or think something that ye don't believe yerself," Loch comments after the laughter stops. "Just because they might be older doesn't mean they will offer wise counsel suit to ye. Do ye understand?"
"Not really," Bog admits.
"That's alright. One day ye will," Loch reassures. "Just remember, my little prince, ye are yer own man and while ye should listen to the counsel of others, provided they know what they're talking about, it is best that ye follow yer own heart."
"Good morning, Mr McIntosh," the ten-year-old greets!
"Good morning, Bog," Tavish answers!
"Are ye needing milk," Griselda asks from the open back door?
"No, our cow is giving plenty but thank ye all the same," Tavish remarks. "I came to ask ye a favor. Would ye mind looking after Angus for a few hours? Emily has an appointment with the midwife and unlike his sisters, that lad just doesn't sit still."
"I could use an extra set of hands today," Loch mentions, pausing in his task of sawing a log. "Bog and I were just about to start the spring plowing in the lower field before someone mentioned that we were getting low on firewood because of the baking that needed to be done today for market. She also decided that Bog was her son and as such, I lost my helper to the queen."
"What pray tell is the queen baking today," Tavish questions? "Emily and I might be persuaded to lend our three lasses in exchange for some Montrose Cake."
Bog hollers happily as his mother accepts the offer and the morning passes quickly as the boys tackle the chopping and plowing while the girls bake mouthwatering treats. The returning parents help the work pass quicker and after a hearty meal, Loch regales the children with a story at his son's insistence.
"Long ago, in the realm of the fae, the war-like meadow kingdom had set its sights on conquering the more docile fae of the field kingdom. The terrible meadow queen was greedy for more and was never satisfied but she was no match for the courageous forest queen.
Noticing the turning tide of battle as the stronger-winged meadow fae overpower the field fae through dirty fighting, the forest queen sounds the charge and the forest bursts with fighters on the backs of birds and insects. Under the weight of the renewed energy, the meadow fae are subdued and the meadow queen is forced to surrender to..."
"That's not fair," Angus interrupts! "The forest kingdom and the field kingdom cheated!"
"What makes ye think that," Griselda asks, taking a sip of tea?
"Two against one? It's not fair," Angus points out.
"Didn't ye hear my da? He said the meadow kingdom was fighting dirty, which means they were already cheating. Besides, it's not like they were fighting for a good cause or anything, they were just being bad," Bog argues.
"That's correct, my little prince," Loch praises. "The meadow kingdom was being bad, very bad in fact. Ye're all too young to be told what really happened but I will tell ye that this battle is the reason that the royal families of the forest and the field had only one member left in my first story. This happened when the two young kings' grandparents were children."
"So, the forest queen is the forest king's great-great-grandma," Bog asks, getting a nod? "Is the meadow kingdom really more powerful than the other kingdoms?"
"In a fair fight, no, but the meadow kingdom rarely fought fairly," Loch remarks. "The gnomes, meadow pixies, meadow fairies, and meadow sprites were not really different from the fae of the forest and the field but with each new monarch they began to forsake the old ways and became restless in things that stayed the same. Know this, children, sometimes change is good and proper but if it makes ye change who ye really are then it is a bad change. Follow yer heart and be who ye are, even if ye're different."
"Da, how did ye meet Ma," the fourteen-year-old asks?
"In my dreams," Loch answers.
Bog quickly sets the basket of eggs down inside the back door before turning his attention to his father. Loch chuckles at his curious child, taking one last swing on the axe and gathering the chopped wood.
"I dreamt of her for as long as I can remember and Ma dreamt of me. True love is like that," Loch remarks. "Ye dream of the one yer meant for, of the experiences they had that day, and by the time ye actually meet ye already know them."
"Does everybody dream of their true love," Bog questions?
"No, only a few get that privilege. It's a powerful magic to bind two souls together," Loch explains. "Why'd ye ask, my little prince?"
Bog looks toward the barn and around the farm. The Scottish summer breeze ruffles his ash brown hair as he surveys the landscape and as always, his blue-eyed gaze is drawn to the large lone hawthorn at the forest's edge. The ring of mushrooms crown the ground around it and the primroses hide under its shelter.
"What if I don't have a true love, Da? They already tease me because I'm different from the others, not a true Scot, and since Angus started dating Heather, it's...," Bog sighs.
"Ye are a true Scot," Loch insists, turning his son's head to look at him.
"What Scot is named Bog King," Bog mumbles?
"We're from an old clan, ye and I, from before they got their fancy titles, and like the land, we choose who we are," Loch comments before grinning. "Besides, ye ain't king yet, my little prince."
Griselda shakes her head from the back door as she watches her boys get muddy from their wrestling. With a sigh, she grabs the bucket and fills it full of water from the pump. The air rings with yells and laughter as perfect aim brings cold water rushing onto skin.
"Make sure you get all the dirt off or ye'll not be coming into my house," Griselda warns.
"Have mercy, my queen," Loch begs playfully! "At least boil us some water for a warm bath, this water is freezing."
Bog laughs as his mother wanders too close and is pulled down into the muddy arms of her husband. His cheeks flush red at their kisses but the wide grin refuses to leave his face despite the embarrassment. No one could say his parents didn't love one another.
"No worries, my little prince," Loch reassures, holding Griselda in his lap. "Ye have a true love and one day ye'll meet her. On that day, ye'll hold her close and her heart will beat in time with yers for the rest of yer lives."
"Bog, yer Ma and I won't be back until late. So, make sure...," Loch trails off, noticing Bog's rushed movements. "What are ye hiding, my little prince?"
Reluctantly, the seventeen-year-old pulls out his drawing pad from underneath his bed and hands it to the waiting man. Loch raises an eyebrow at his son's embarrassment before looking through the coveted object.
"So, this is what ye've been doing with yer coins. Nothing to be ashamed of," Loch muses as he turns the pages.
"I'm not a baby," Bog mutters.
"Of course not," Loch agrees. "I don't see how yer drawings would make ye think ye are."
"Fairytales are for children and I'm an adult," Bog mumbles. "But I can't help it, Da."
"Ye're not an adult until the day after tomorrow, my little prince," Loch teases. "Angus being trouble again?"
"I was drawing in the barn several months ago when he came to get milk for his new baby," Bog admits, opening his dresser to reveal more drawing pads. "I tried to forget it but even dating Angelina didn't make the dreams go away."
"Dreams," Loch questions sharply, pausing in his looking of the other sketches? "Ye've been dreaming about these...girls?"
"They're the same girl, Da," Bog corrects before shaking his head. "But fairies aren't real, they're just tales told to amuse babies. The forest and the field kingdoms are just something ye made up, she's someone I made up. Angelina accused me of holding my affections for another and just stringing her along. I was a fool to show her these but I thought that she would like them since she loves fairytales too. The dreams have gotten darker and more violent but that's probably because of Angelina breaking up with me. I haven't had any dreams in several weeks, of her or of anything."
Loch pauses his questioning as one of the sketches catch his eye. The winged girl frowns at a group of winged folk while standing between them and a group of smaller ragged-looking creatures. The crown sitting on her brow is tilted and her arms are crossed in defiance.
"What's happening here," Loch asks?
"She was supposed to be getting married last spring and had wanted to invite the forest folk but the field folk refused," Bog explains. "In all my dreams that I can remember she's been trying to help the forest folk but her own kingdom, her own father, refuses to hear her call for the fairer treatment of them. In your stories, the forest kingdom was prosperous but in my dreams, it's dying each year. She's been fighting so hard and...Oh, what am I talking about? It's just dreams and stories and fairytales! It's not real!"
"Bog...," Loch starts
"Loch, we need to get going," Griselda interrupts, poking her head into Bog's room. "Tavish said that they reported on the telly that a storm was coming and if we want to get home before it gets here than we need to leave now."
"Alright, my queen," Loch remarks. "We'll talk when I get home, my little prince. Make sure the livestock is bedded down and the barn is shut up tight."
"Wait," Bog yells as his parents bundle up! "Maybe ye should wait until tomorrow to go into town. I don't think ye should go out."
"I'd agree with ye, dear, but Hamish insists on having the quilts by this afternoon or he's canceling his orders," Griselda comments. "Besides, Plum will be here tomorrow and you know how she hogs all the attention once she arrives."
Even the mention of his eccentric aunt does little to calm the bees swarming in his gut as Bog watches Loch help his wife into the car. With a jolly wave, the older man enters the driver's side and backs onto the long stretch of road.
The day passes slowly and with worried eyes, Bog stares at the approaching evening with trepidation. Exiting the barn after penning up the animals, the car approaching through the heavy snow draws his attention.
"Bog," Tavish greets, exiting the vehicle.
"What's happened," Bog asks?
"I'm so sorry, lad."