The Chronicles of Faerie

Book 1

The Hunter's Moon

By - FearlessDranzer

Original Story by - O.R. Melling

Chapter One to Be Young Again

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild With a faerie, hand in hand,
The world's fuller of weeping Than you can understand

"The Stolen Child"
- W.B. Yeats

Silently the dark clothed man watched the slimy murky waters of the Liffey slowly slog along. In the city of Dublin the stink of the 21st century had permanently maimed the ancient river. It ran along its path like a broken old man.

"Have you forgotten how to sing?" The light-eyed man asked. "You used to be beautiful and you purled like a young stream. That was back when we called you Rurthach. They have ruined you." The man sighed, leaned against the bridge's railing and folded his hands under his chin as he thought back to the days when he was younger.

A breeze lifted his black jacket from around his ankles and swirled it around them like an erotic dancer. The man looked back at his surroundings to note sadly, that the world around him had gotten worse since he had last come to the surface. There were poor men begging on street corners for pennies, young children running past street venders to steal their food and teenagers toting guns while adults ran every which way in hopes of getting to work on time. It was sad in a way that the beauty of the race of man was no more. Yet it was still there just in a different form.

He was about to turn away when his silver eyes caught the river again and he took pity on it. He held out his hand and in a flash of gold brilliance a spark lighted and fell down to the waters below. It was only for an instant but the water's of the Rurthach seemed young again and magically it cleared showing off bright blue water and fish swimming to and fro. But he didn't have a lot of time to spend staring at the beauty he had given the stream, he had a mission to complete. He felt happy, if only for a day the river would be young again and it would know what it meant to be alive. As he passed by to leave he heard the unmistakable sound of praise coming from the water:

The King passed by. Long live the King.

His lavender eyes sparkled and they seemed to dance as they soaked up the praise given to him. But he was wasting time standing there and needed to move on.

Because just up the street would be a little bookstore that on the third story would give him a cozy little spot to peer down on the world below. He looked up at a sign and nodded as he read its name, Findabhair Street that meant that the bookstore wasn't far away. In fact he could almost picture the quaint little Victorian Mansion now with its large bay windows and three stories. And on the third story would be his little table where he could look down on the streets and search for the person who would fulfill the mission. He was so happy to return to his familiar haunting grounds that he got the shock of a lifetime when he saw someone else sitting in his seat.

It was a boy, sitting by the window. He was reading a letter. The sun behind him lit up his hair making it turn a fiery red as it arched up in the shape of pixie wings. A small smile was on his face as his light blue eyes chased the words across the paper. His dark eyelashes brushed against alabaster skin each time he blinked and drew attention to the bright earrings above them. The man's eyes followed the path of eyebrow earrings from the left as it started with a bright pink stud with a matching one above it, to the right of it was a lime green stud and at the end of the next eyebrow was a bright eye catching orange. He raised an eyebrow as he looked under the full lips of the other boy there, nestled in the skin was another stud, this one a deep red like his hair. The boy wore all black, which was queer because in this day and age most people wore bright colors to stand out. His pants were black and baggy, held up around his petite waist by a large studded belt and his shirt was tight and just as black as his pants. The outfit was incredibly simple but it seemed to give an interesting look to at the young boy. He shook his head and smile, the beauty of this human was unbelievable.

He had seen him in his dreams and had thought nothing of his beauty, but seeing him in person could take your breath away. His skin was white and without freckle or sunspot, hinting at a heritage with something other than Irish in it. He was beautiful and exotic and captivating to look at. Mortal beauty had always snuck on up on the man's kind but it always gave them great happiness when they found it in unexpected places. But the beauty of the boy would do nothing to change his part in the mission.

The boy was lost in his own world as he smiled to himself and read his letter.

Dear Tala,

I wish you would still let me call you by your Russian name. I know you don't like Grandfather but there is no reason you should drop your heritage. But we should leave that argument to another time. I haven't seen you in three years but finally we'll get to meet again. Grandpa is paying for my passage by plane because he insisted upon doing so, but I saved every penny and dime from all of my modeling jobs just to see you dearest cousin. Note the sarcasm.

We're still traveling around Ireland, yes? You haven't changed your mind? Don't fall in love with anyone before I get there or something stupid like that. I don't want any third parties tagging along. It should just be you and me like we planned in the beginning.

Ignore that last part. Insecurity attack. I can't wait to see you. In fact I'm all ready packing and for that Grandpa calls me a fool. But don't mind him, his brain rots away with age. Tell Aunt Fedya congratulations on her new job and to stop buying skim milk. It's taste like crap. Sadly I haven't grown too much and I expect you to tower over me like you used to. I've been hoping to grow taller because the modeling agency I work for says being tall gets you more jobs. (It's a losing battle though. Wait till you see me. I'm a real short one.) Just lay off the potatoes. I seriously still can't stomach a lot of food and you know how I get near potatoes. I eat them till I puke… which mind it won't take too long. But I'm eating again so everything should be fine. I'll be seeing you soon.

I'm yours,
And your cousin…
Kai

"May I sit down?"

Tala was just about to snap at who ever was talking to him. Couldn't he see that there were many other chairs and tables empty and that he was busy? He never got the chance, one glance upwards and Tala felt like a newborn baby, stupid and helpless. He could have sworn he was drooling. The older boy's lavender hair was long and hung in his eyes, and he had a stern expression on his face but his eyes gave him away as they danced like they held a secret. Like Tala, he favored black clothes but immediately he realized how different their fashion senses were. He wore jeans with a black silk shirt underneath his black coat. He seemed so familiar but Tala couldn't place his finger on who he was.

"Do I know you?"

"Perhaps. Or you may be remembering the future. That's possible, you know. Déjà vu."

It was a fascinating idea, as well as an interesting thing to say. The man's answer made him think and Tala liked that, he liked it when anyone matched wits against him. He decided to grace the older man with a smirk as he sat down.

"I brought you a gift."

He pulled a small black book out of his coat pocket and ran a finger over the gold lettering that had been pressed delicately and lovingly into the cover. The title was written in ragged and sharp letters. The Wyrd of the Fair White Boy

Tala's eyes went wide as he read the cover and he almost gasped.

"That's so weird. I'm sorry but this is such a creepy coincidence. The Fate of the Fair White Boy. What a funny title."

"There're no such things as coincidences." When Tala looked at him suspiciously, he smiled and held his hands up defensively in front of himself. "I've seen you in my dreams and I carried this book around because it made me think of you, the fair white boy. I have yet to see someone with hair like yours and to not have a face full of freckles."

Tala didn't bother to listen; he was already flipping through the pages. The book was old and musty smelling and Tala breathed in the familiar scent with a sigh. He loved old things. "Tala." he whispered and ran his hand over the title.

"That's my name, Tala Valcov. I preferred to keep the name the name of my father even after he died and my mother remarried. Where did you---?"

"There's no time."

His spoke quickly and his eyes looked back and forth as if he was searching for something out of place. Immediately Tala felt a chill wrap its way down his spine even though he was sitting in the sun. The man pointed to the poem.

"Read."

Tala humored the man and played along. With a shrug of a shoulder he let go of all suspicions and questions and just read on.

"Be fleet of foot,
O fair Hunted One,
From the dark of the shadow Across the clear sun.

Like a deer on the plain,
Like a trout in a stream, Take flight from life's bane,
To the Land of the Dream.

Come to the Sidhe-mound under the hill,
Come to the country ruled by my will."

Tala's mouth seemed to move on its own and the words poured out of his mouth without hesitation. It was like he knew the poem by heart and knew it so well that there was no way he could ever falter on it. Tala never noticed the man reading the letter he had left on the table. Nor did he see the hungry look in his eyes as he devoured the letters so preciously written on there by his cousin.

"Another one?" he murmured.

"It's lovely," Tala said quietly after they had sat in silence for a few moments. "A bit like Yeats' 'Stolen Child.'"

"Do you know what a Sidhe-mound is?"

"I speak Irish; I know what a sidhe-mound is." Tala's eyes glazed over. "It's a fairy hill."

"Will you meet me there?" The man stood up and brushed off his collar as if there were crumbs on it.

"What? Meet you where?" Tala was surprised when he felt an aching in his heart at the thought of the lavender haired man leaving him. He may have just met him but it felt like they had known each other for years.

The man leaned toward him and surprised Tala, who thought he was going to kiss him. His lips brushed against his ear instead.

"Tara," a breathy whisper brushed against Tala's pale throat and made him shiver. "Come to Tara. Just come to Tara." With that he was gone in a rustle of silk and cloth.

Tala sat breathing heavily and he brushed bangs out of his eyes before rubbing his forehead with fingertips. "This is fucking nuts." Tala shivered and he got the feeling that someone was watching him, turning quickly Tala managed to get one last look at the lavender haired man as he stood about to get on the bridge. He was gone just as soon as Tala saw him. "I must not be sleeping enough." He whispered to himself and he tried to get the feeling of the man's breath out of his mind. He shivered anyway at thought of the strange looking man again.

"I'm losing myself."

Tala got up and walked to the stair well before he realized he had forgotten the book and rushed back to grab it. Tala hugged it to his chest and realized silently that he never wanted to be without the little black book ever again. No matter how short a time, it was his only connection to the lavender enigma. Walking slowly down the stairs he flipped through the pages, he had never been one for poetry. It was always too boring to read words that most likely only made sense to the author. Occasionally he would wonder what significance the poem had to the writer, but it never went beyond that. So Tala was genuinely surprised when he realized that he loved the poems in the book. Poems about magic and fairies and 'what ifs'. Tala barely had ten dollars on him but he hoped it would be enough to buy the beautiful book.

"How much for the little black book?"

The teen behind the counter couldn't be much younger than Tala but he seemed to be older than he looked. Tala didn't know, maybe it was just the numerous rings and spikes jutting out from the boy's face. The teen squinted at the book and shook his head from side to side.

"It's not ours. You must have brought it in with you. It's a really nice book, great craftsmanship."

Tala looked faintly surprised for a moment and than nodded knowingly. That man had given it to him! It wasn't a dream, at least he hoped so… Tala laughed slowly unsure of himself.

"Yeah it must be mine, how dumb of me to forget. Yeah, I feel like an asshole. Actually I kinda just feel really weird today."

The teen grinned wolfishly. "You too 'eh? You don't know how many people have come up to me today swearing that the Liffey was alive. I told 'em they was daft and sent them on their way. The Liffey is movin' like it always does. Funny though 'eh?"

"Too much heroine maybe?"

The teen laughed well naturedly. "I was thinking more along the lines of too much sun."

"That may be it also."

"I think we'll be in for an interesting summer if this keeps up."

Tala left the shop and stood outside staring at the sun.

End Chapter One

Note - I don't own Beyblade, The Hunter's Moon or Yeats' "The Stolen Child".

This is based off a book called The Hunter's Moon. If anyone has read it you will realize that so far the first chapter is very similar to the prologue but I felt it necessary. The prologue is important because it sets the setting for the story. So obviously it had to been similar to the original. Please tell me if I should continue. Thanks,

Arty

Irish Vocabulary

Liffey - A river in Ireland

Rurthach - Old name for Liffey

The Wyrd of the Fair White Boy - Originally the The Wyrd of the White Lady, but it needed changing to the The Fate of the Fair White Boy

Sidhe-Mound - A hill that fairies supposedly live under

Tara - To be revealed later

Findabhair - The original name of one of the main characters, means White Lady