A/N: Anglicized as "Banshee." This story is inspired by Alfred Noyes lyrical ballad, "The Highwayman." While I have researched, I am not perfect so please forgive me any mistakes I make in Scottish Gaelic language and culture. They are my own and due to my own ignorance. By the way Posy is a horse.
daoine shidh: fairies
Bealtainn: May Day Festival
merrit: married
bonnie: Beautiful
suilean gorm: blue eyes
dinnae haver: don't talk rubbish
dadaidh: father
bean-shidh: Banshee
Sassenach: outsider, often referred to people of British descent visiting Scottish communities.
1744 Scotland
The first time Gale Hawthorne laid eyes on her, he had thought that she belonged to the daoine shidh as she danced among the yarrow and ragwort during the Bealtainn. Yellow flowers dressed her golden waves, which hung down to her tiny waist. Examining her slight frame, he knew that she was not of this world.
Gale counted his fortune lucky when he realized that the fae girl was a friend of his cousin's. Katniss had laughed at him when he stumbled over his request – a simple introduction to the fair lady. Her response had been to ask him why Madge would want to talk to such a skinny malinky longlegs such as him. After much teasing, she relented and introduced him to Maighread Undersee.
Upon meeting him, Madge informed Gale that the yarrow had brought him to her. She winked as she explained that she had clipped some the morning before and placed it under her pillow. He couldn't disagree. How could he question one of the daoine shidh?
Soon, Gale had found himself spending more days and nights visiting the sleepy village on the western shore of the loch, where Maighread lived with her father, the town's provost, in the small inn that they ran. Every time he left Castle Everdeen, Katniss and their Uncle Hamish would tease him about being careful or he would end up merrit, to which he always shrugged and laughed. He didn't think that getting merrit would be such a bad thing.
As much as Gale loved Madge, he had great disdain for the British and their grip on Scottish lands. Despite the fact that his dearly departed father hailed from Cumberland, he considered the rolling hills and craggy peaks of Scotland to be his home, and believed that Charles Stuart belonged on the British throne.
Hamish had asked Gale to attend a meeting as a representative of The Everdeen. But before he could leave, he desired to see Madge one last time. As he approached the inn, he tied Posy to a tree. It was rather late and he knew that Mr. Undersee would never approve of this visit, since they weren't officially promised. But if things went well, that would change soon. The torches were doused; the inn was locked up good and tight for the night.
He quietly made his way to the casement of Madge's room. Candlelight peeked through the drawn drapes. He tapped on the window, tippity-tap,tippity-tap before whistling a four-note tune so she would know it was he. Seconds later, the drapes were opened and the casement swung out.
"Gale, what are you doing here? My dadaidh will skin ye alive if ye be caught," Madge whispered as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She sat on the windowsill and blushed as she took in the sight of him dressed in a fine lawn shirt with ruffled cuffs, a green velvet coat, boots made from the skin of a doe that Katniss had taken down a couple months before, and the tartan of his mother's clan. The hilt of his rapier shown in the moonlight, twinkling at his waist.
"Where are ye going in such finery?"
"What do ye mean, my bonnie suilean gorm? Ye know I dressed for ye."
Madge playfully shoved him, "Dinnae haver."
Gale chuckled as he saw the look in her eye.
"Now tell me," she insisted as she began plaiting her hair.
"Aye. Hamish has trusted me to represent the clan at a meeting of fellow Jacobite. I'm riding all night to the meeting, which will happen at dawn. This is it. We are finally planning it." He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before pulling back to continue, "Just ye wait. The German will be unseated."
Madge dropped her braid and hugged Gale to her. "This is exciting news – that Hamish is letting ye go."
"Aye. But I needed to see ye before I left. I needed to tell someone the news. I needed to tell ye, lass."
He pulled her into his arms and took her lips, brushing them gently until she grasped his lower lip between her sharp teeth. Taking that as permission, he pulled her even tighter, running his hands through her hair and loosening the braid. His tongue licked her bottom lip before slipping into her mouth to taste her further. Minutes later, before they could take things too far, he pulled away to her moan of protest. He buried his head in her hair, taking in the scent of lavender. Slipping his dagger out from his belt, he snipped a small blonde curl, which he tucked into the breast pocket of his coat directly over his heart.
"Look for me by the moonlight, suilean gorm. I will be back to ye by tomorrow nigh." Gale laid one last kiss on the tip of her pert nose before slipping off into the night, completely unaware that they had been observed.
BANG-BANG, a hard knock hit the old inn door before it crashed open; a troop of Redcoats entered her home shortly after noon. The local residents, not looking for trouble, quietly left, leaving Madge and her father to serve the group. They drank ale into the afternoon and continued through the evening. At dusk, her father tried to inquire as to whether the group needed to book rooms or if they would be moving on for the night, a subtle hint to settle the bill. The leader of the group, Romulus Thread, slit her father's throat with a knife before saying, "Traitors do not get paid by the crown!"
Before her father's body could hit the floor, two soldiers were on her. They dragged her to her room and, taking their time, tied her up at attention in front of her window, sniggering as they felt up her breasts and cupped her arse through her dress. The soldiers bound one of their muskets to her side so that it fell against her breast. Carefully, they unpinned her tresses and used them to cover the muzzle of the gun. "Now, keep good watch!" they joked before forcing their lips upon her.
Madge shook because now she knew. They were waiting for him. The inn was cloaked in darkness except for one lone lantern in her room, illuminating her form from behind the window, but otherwise keeping the room dark.
One hour passed, and then another. The moon rose. He did not come and she hoped that for once he would break his oath, but she knew he was far too honorable to do that. She watched the soldiers from the corner of her eye. When she knew that eyes were not on her, she began to work on her bounds but they would not give. After much work, she moved her hands until her finger felt the tip of the trigger.
She waited for him, watching for him by the moonlight, which lit the road as it meandered, shining silver against the surrounding purple of the heather covered hills.
The moon crossed the sky and not long after midnight, she heard it. Tlot-Tlot! Tlot-Tlot!
With a deep, calming breath, she opened her mouth to sing. A wail escaped from her lips, shattering the nearest soldier's eardrum moments before her fingers pressed down onto the metal. The sharp report of a gunshot was released and her breast shattered against the window.
Gale instantly knew the sound of a bean-shidh, which came from the direction of the inn. He instantly dropped off Posy's back and hit her rump, sending her off into the hills as she knew the way home. Dropping into the brush, Gale waited, knowing it was too late for Madge. She was one of daoine shidh.
He watched the Redcoats pass and did not move for a day and a night. He finally approached the inn during the early dawn. As he neared Madge's casement, he saw her blood spattered against the panes and white heather blooming below her window.
Gale made his way back to Castle Everdeen and buried his mother's family tartan, instead choosing to don the clothes of a common hostler. The folks in the keep maintained their silence whenever a Sassenach was about. Only the occasional whisper escaped about him having the devil's own luck and about the woman in white who follows him, her hair dressed in white blossoms. They thought he didn't know, but he did as he could still hear her sing.
A/N:
According to legend white heather blooms on graves of the fae.
This may act as a prequel of sorts for a larger story. I'm still trying to decide since I already have one historical going and as well as needing to figure out how to give the people of Castle Everdeen a happy ending despite Culloden.
Please take a moment to review this fic if you loved it or if you have constructive criticism. Reviews are the only way for me to know if there is something I need to try to fix or if my work is eliciting the feelings I hope to create.
Thank you to Chelziebelle for helping me fix my mistakes.
If you'd like more information about my fanfiction please visit my tumblr: dispatchesfromdistrict7
The characters are the property of the amazing Suzanne Collins and do not belong to me. You probably also have noticed I'll occasionally weave in one of the famous lines from her novels. Those totally belong to Ms. Collins too.