Chapter 2 WS
For those that asked, Wayland the Smith or Wayland Smith is known as a British fairytale, although I believe that he has appeared in European myths too. He is said by some to be an aspect of the Norse Thunder God Thor, and by others to be a fairy. He can appear with the 'trooping fairies' or elves, or sometimes is said to stay in one spot, when he stays stationery, so to speak, it is traditional to leave gifts for him, and if you leave your horse and payment outside his smithy, when you go back, it is freshly shod.
His appearances with elves often coincide with young women reporting the appearance of a strange man, who helps them by shoeing their horses, or rendering some other aid. Sometimes, he is said to kidnap the young woman, and take her to the fairy realm, often with the aid of other male fairies (elves).
The above might give you some idea what is going to happen, Finch!
The Mortal.
Curiously, Maeglin's request makes sense. It is a dark night, the sky clouded heavily. The trail would be dangerous going down, and then, I had another reason to stay the night; I didn't want to go home.
'Ok, I'll stay,' I say, and get quite a shock seeing Maeglin's obvious pleasure. Has he been alone for that long he'd enjoy the company of a stranger?
Happily, he makes me some more tea, and shows me where I can sleep when I get tired but I have the impression that he's hoping for a good chat.
As he hands me my cup, I ask the question that's been on the tip of my tongue, 'Maeglin, it's pretty plain you're not an ordinary human. What are you?'
He settles comfortably down next to me before he answers, 'Do you believe in fairies, Mandy? Because that's what I am, or rather I am an elf.'
I wonder if my face really showed the shock I felt. I had idly thought that Maeglin must some of sort of supernatural being, but to hear him confirm it really well, frightens me! He must guess, for he suddenly took my hand, 'Mandy, I might be an elf, but see, when you touch me do I not feel just like anyone else? I have pointed ears, and I am immortal, and perhaps I have a little of what you would call 'magic' but I am just another person, and I will not harm you.'
I believe he won't hurt me, although I suppose time will tell if I am right to. Out of curiosity I reach out and place my free hand on his face, noticing that his skin is softer than I would have expected, and also that he presses his cheek against my hand, seeking contact.
'Are you alright, Maeglin?'
'Yes,' he whispers.
But I know he isn't.
The Smith.
Mandy's hand is incredibly warm and I can almost feel the pulse of her brief mortal life in her touch. So long it has been to even hold conversation with another, much much longer still since I have touched or been touched by another person. I struggle with the impulse to throw my arms around Mandy and hold her close, but perhaps she would not like that? Once, I would not have cared what she liked, but I over the long lonely years I have come to the conclusion that treating people in such a fashion is wrong, and was one of the reasons I'd had so much trouble in my personal relationships in the past.
Still, the thought of keeping Mandy here, never letting her has occurred to me. I would have company, someone to talk to, and someone to love. That I tell myself would be very wrong, because she would have family, and friends who would miss her, and then I doubted how a mortal would survive here; I struggled to survive myself at times.
So, I sit, holding her hand, allowing her hand to curve against my cheek hoping that when tomorrow comes and Mandy leaves I can convince her to come back occasionally to see me. We talk, but I have no real interest in her conversation being far more interested in the way her hair moves, her smell, her touch. Long after midnight Mandy lies down to sleep and I sit by her, watching her.
The Mortal
He unnerves me a little, with his glowing grey eyes that seem to look into my soul, but I am not truly afraid of him. We speak of many things, he asking about things I mention in conversation, cars, microwaves, movies. Planes he knows of, for he has seen them flying overhead, and asks if I have travelled in one. I tell him yes, and he wants to know what it is like, travelling in a machine that flies swiftly over the world.
I sit yawning, and finally I tell Maeglin that I'd better sleep and when I lie down he draws the blanket over me, tucking me in as if I were a child. Strangely, this is nice.
In the morning, he apologizes for having nothing to give me for breakfast, and I smile, knowing full well he has no food.
Maeglin looks sad when at mid morning I say I have to leave, that my mother will start worrying if I don't go home soon.
'I'll come back Maeglin, I promise. Tomorrow, maybe, or the next day. Is there anything special I can bring you?'
He looks rather embarrassed when he asks for food, preferably something sweet. Well, food I can bring, and perhaps some other things, too. Like some old magazines that he might like to read and some clothes, his are rather tattered.
'I really will be back, Maeglin,' I promise again, as I mount Firefly and ride off.
'Farewell, Mandy,' he says sadly. Poor guy really is lonely.
As I ride, I reflect that meeting Maeglin is a godsend. Now I have somewhere to go, someone to go to the next time my stepfather makes my life a living hell.
For those that asked, Wayland the Smith or Wayland Smith is known as a British fairytale, although I believe that he has appeared in European myths too. He is said by some to be an aspect of the Norse Thunder God Thor, and by others to be a fairy. He can appear with the 'trooping fairies' or elves, or sometimes is said to stay in one spot, when he stays stationery, so to speak, it is traditional to leave gifts for him, and if you leave your horse and payment outside his smithy, when you go back, it is freshly shod.
His appearances with elves often coincide with young women reporting the appearance of a strange man, who helps them by shoeing their horses, or rendering some other aid. Sometimes, he is said to kidnap the young woman, and take her to the fairy realm, often with the aid of other male fairies (elves).
The above might give you some idea what is going to happen, Finch!
The Mortal.
Curiously, Maeglin's request makes sense. It is a dark night, the sky clouded heavily. The trail would be dangerous going down, and then, I had another reason to stay the night; I didn't want to go home.
'Ok, I'll stay,' I say, and get quite a shock seeing Maeglin's obvious pleasure. Has he been alone for that long he'd enjoy the company of a stranger?
Happily, he makes me some more tea, and shows me where I can sleep when I get tired but I have the impression that he's hoping for a good chat.
As he hands me my cup, I ask the question that's been on the tip of my tongue, 'Maeglin, it's pretty plain you're not an ordinary human. What are you?'
He settles comfortably down next to me before he answers, 'Do you believe in fairies, Mandy? Because that's what I am, or rather I am an elf.'
I wonder if my face really showed the shock I felt. I had idly thought that Maeglin must some of sort of supernatural being, but to hear him confirm it really well, frightens me! He must guess, for he suddenly took my hand, 'Mandy, I might be an elf, but see, when you touch me do I not feel just like anyone else? I have pointed ears, and I am immortal, and perhaps I have a little of what you would call 'magic' but I am just another person, and I will not harm you.'
I believe he won't hurt me, although I suppose time will tell if I am right to. Out of curiosity I reach out and place my free hand on his face, noticing that his skin is softer than I would have expected, and also that he presses his cheek against my hand, seeking contact.
'Are you alright, Maeglin?'
'Yes,' he whispers.
But I know he isn't.
The Smith.
Mandy's hand is incredibly warm and I can almost feel the pulse of her brief mortal life in her touch. So long it has been to even hold conversation with another, much much longer still since I have touched or been touched by another person. I struggle with the impulse to throw my arms around Mandy and hold her close, but perhaps she would not like that? Once, I would not have cared what she liked, but I over the long lonely years I have come to the conclusion that treating people in such a fashion is wrong, and was one of the reasons I'd had so much trouble in my personal relationships in the past.
Still, the thought of keeping Mandy here, never letting her has occurred to me. I would have company, someone to talk to, and someone to love. That I tell myself would be very wrong, because she would have family, and friends who would miss her, and then I doubted how a mortal would survive here; I struggled to survive myself at times.
So, I sit, holding her hand, allowing her hand to curve against my cheek hoping that when tomorrow comes and Mandy leaves I can convince her to come back occasionally to see me. We talk, but I have no real interest in her conversation being far more interested in the way her hair moves, her smell, her touch. Long after midnight Mandy lies down to sleep and I sit by her, watching her.
The Mortal
He unnerves me a little, with his glowing grey eyes that seem to look into my soul, but I am not truly afraid of him. We speak of many things, he asking about things I mention in conversation, cars, microwaves, movies. Planes he knows of, for he has seen them flying overhead, and asks if I have travelled in one. I tell him yes, and he wants to know what it is like, travelling in a machine that flies swiftly over the world.
I sit yawning, and finally I tell Maeglin that I'd better sleep and when I lie down he draws the blanket over me, tucking me in as if I were a child. Strangely, this is nice.
In the morning, he apologizes for having nothing to give me for breakfast, and I smile, knowing full well he has no food.
Maeglin looks sad when at mid morning I say I have to leave, that my mother will start worrying if I don't go home soon.
'I'll come back Maeglin, I promise. Tomorrow, maybe, or the next day. Is there anything special I can bring you?'
He looks rather embarrassed when he asks for food, preferably something sweet. Well, food I can bring, and perhaps some other things, too. Like some old magazines that he might like to read and some clothes, his are rather tattered.
'I really will be back, Maeglin,' I promise again, as I mount Firefly and ride off.
'Farewell, Mandy,' he says sadly. Poor guy really is lonely.
As I ride, I reflect that meeting Maeglin is a godsend. Now I have somewhere to go, someone to go to the next time my stepfather makes my life a living hell.