Chapter 68
Roger left the kitchen and returned to his room.
The morning's walk had left him fatigued and he wanted a nap or to at least get off his feet.
The physical trauma of the last month or two were proving to be hard to recover from.
His arm still ached from the dog attack and his guts were still healing from the gunshot wound he should not have survived, Anna's giving him a 'rose kiss' had pulled him back from the grave.
Roger was a mess and needed to lay down.
He took his morning's pain meds and slipped under the covers.
An hour later he was still awake, even though the pain meds had dulled the aches, his mind was all awhirl with visions of a towering young girl becoming a woman dancing through his recent memories.
Watching her face as she sees a new thing for the first time, of seeing her laughing with her friends all so gay and carefree in their youthful freedom.
Seeing her in hot pursuit of an opponent on the ball court, her red-gold braids flying behind her as she closes in on the ball.
Watching helplessly when she soloed her plane for the first time and seeing her joy at becoming a pilot.
Roger finally got out of bed and went looking for Freya, the girl who had dominated his thoughts for the past hour.
He found her in the kitchen with Anna and Dena.
They were making something involving a glass vessel and many ingredients.
As he looked on, he slowly realized that there was another being there, a being a little taller than Dena, but rather stocky in build.
He was dressed in what looked like bundles of reeds and had some sort of armor that appeared to be made of reptile scales, large reptile scales.
His head was covered by a sort of helmet also made of scales.
Dark brown almost black eyes peered out from that helmet, the creature was armed with a crystal tipped staff which he was using to point out the next ingredient to be added to the bubbling mixture.
Roger stood perfectly still, not wanting to disturb the tableaux he was gazing upon, scarcely daring to breathe lest he disturb the balance of the natural order.
The tiny warrior looked up and his eyes met Roger's.
Almost at once he snarled, "Ye can see me?"
He leveled his staff and leapt straight at Roger who was stepping back and going into a defensive posture.
Just as quickly, Freya snatched the little terror out of the air, her long arm moving faster than he was.
She snarled, "Yoo'll nae be strikin' onie a body in thes hoose!"
The creature glared impotently while Freya held him by the scruff of his neck.
Dena meanwhile, had rushed to stand between Roger and his would be attacker, she glared at him and shrilly declared, "Ay coorse he can see, he abides haur ye bapit Spriggan. He is th' reason Ah cam doon frae up north wi' Sasha tae bide haur!"
The spriggan by this time had temporarily ceased his struggling, Freya had too strong a grip on him, so he just hung there, silently glowering in his impotence.
Roger, having recovered his composure, muttered, "This has not been my last two months, first I get attacked by a dog and saved by a wolf."
For emphasis he idly played with Sasha's velvety ears as she had come to see what all the fuss was about.
"Next, the wolf gets attacked and I save her life only to get shot. Next I'm dying and a beautiful lady comes into my dreams and kisses me, I taste her blood and I'm no longer dying. Now I'm staying at home recovering only to nearly get smitten by yet another mythological being, but a very important to me mythological being saves me yet again."
He looked at everyone there and commented morosely, "Can't I just go back to bed and have all this simply stop?"
The spriggan squirmed in Freya's grasp again until he finally said in resignation, "Ah gie ye mah wuid, Ah wullnae hurt heem."
Freya smiled and said, "That's whit Ah was waitin' tae hear ye say!"
She set him down on his feet again and he carefully straightened his reeds and armor until all was in order again.
Having restored his dignity once again, the spriggan "Harrumphed!" and said, "Noo, afore we waur sae rudely interrupted."
He glared briefly at Roger who merely smiled in reply.
"Th' order an' th' timin' is huir av important in makin' onie potion. Th' intent ay th' potion is also important an' will determine whit sort ay equipment is required. Th' stronger a potion, th, stronger a cauldron needs tae be."
Leaving them to their devices, Roger went into the library with Sasha close behind.
Both man and wolf now shared a bond born from adversity and having saved each other's lives.
Sasha's flank bore the scars from being hit by a car and a patch of fur was still growing back where the veterinarian had shaved it off to stitch her skin back together again.
Roger's arm bore the healing scars from a dog attack and his gut was scarred from a gun shot wound.
Roger settled into a comfy chair to read whilst Sasha curled up on the parquet floor, her pony sized bulk taking up much of the floor space in front of the hearth.
Both fell asleep and were still asleep when Freya found them there several hours later.
Having completed the mixing and making of her potion.
It had been placed in a clay bottle, stoppered tightly as proscribed and placed in a dark corner of the basement to age.
On the bottle, a handwritten label described the potion and its intent.
The date was immaterial as it would last indefinitely.
Freya took a throw blanket from the hall closet and gently tucked it around Roger's quiescent form.
She worried about his seemingly slow recovery even though the attending physician had explained to her that his injuries had nearly killed him and that he would need time to heal.
She still felt they were taking too long, while Roger had gently pointed out to her that the "wee fowk" were not Jotuns and lacked their incredible toughness and vitality.
She still fretted and had asked Dena to help her help him.
Dena in turn, had visited the nearest hollow hill and consulted the fae healer there. The healer, a former changeling sent a spriggan, who had reluctantly agreed to examine Roger's case.
After thoroughly examining him while he slept and looking at his karmic records, taking into consideration his relationships with a Jotun girl, a great guardian wolf and her wood wife companion.
His friendships with a vampire, a family of wood elves and his having encountered and survived, the green woman and her half awake trees.
He agreed to take his case after concluding that Roger's gunshot wound was essentially a class one attack and the 'rose kiss' given to him by Anastasia equaled a class two counter attack.
His decision to supervise Freya's making of a class three potion would complete the healing process.
One side effect was the possibility of him acquiring second sight and thus the ability to see fae.
Dena and Anastasia assisted primarily because like Freya, they too had strong feelings of affection towards Roger and the potion would be imbued with their feelings and therefore, stronger.
The process had begun with the new moon appearing as a sliver in the late afternoon sky.
As the waxing moon grew in size, the ingredients and equipment were gathered for the day when they would be mixed in a wooden bowl and slowly added to boiling spring water heated in a glass vessel.
At Freya's suggestion, a Pyrex laboratory beaker was obtained and used.
The spriggan after carefully examining the beaker had decided that henceforth, pyrex beakers were allowable equipment in potion making.
In fact, he had fairly drooled over the catalog of Pyrex laboratory equipment Freya had showed him.
Perhaps humans had some good ideas after all, he thought.
The mixing and making process had gone smoothly until the patient in question had blundered into the kitchen where they were working.
While the presence of the massive cast iron stove and cookware had bothered him at first, he decided that it could be made to work in the heart of their home as everything was so deeply imbued with the feelings of all that lived there.
Roger had startled him and he had reacted like any spriggan would in defense of the kingdom of fae or Tir Na Nog as it was properly called.
Freya's and Dena's reactions had surprised him with the strength of their feelings of protectiveness towards Roger.
The finished potion would be a strong one, he surmised.
Now the potion, carefully mixed and boiled was aging in its clay bottle, hidden in the deepest part of the basement.
With the appearance of the next new moon, it would be ready for use.
The spriggan pondered all of this.
The house had become filled with life and love, the old ways were honored and kept.
There were now numerous fae living in the general vicinity of the house and the larger manse to the north.
Recently, a lost banshee had appeared in the region, the family she had haunted had died out and the house had fallen into ruin.
Perhaps a change in her fortunes was in order?
He would consult his queen.
Titania would know what to do.
Day by day, Roger felt better, every morning he and Sasha would go for a long brisk walk, or at least brisk until he bumped into one of the neighbors and they would stop and chat.
He couldn't help having the feeling he was being watched or that there were many things just beyond his eyesight all around him.
Lately, he hadn't seen that strange little creature looking like so many bundles of reeds all tied together at the top with some sort of a helmet atop his rounded head and carrying a staff of some sort.
Sometimes he wondered if he had really seen it at all.
Dena sometimes muttered about 'th' spriggan frae under th' hill' as she referred to him, but did not elaborate nor did Roger pry.
He figured she'd open up about him when she was ready.
Freya had recently taken up the habit of watching the lunar phases and making notes on a calendar.
Again, Roger did not pry, she would tell him all about it when she was ready he figured.
He had noticed the little clay bottle hidden in the basement and was firmly told to 'lae it be' as Freya had put it.
Anna was pretty much staying with him and Freya now.
She still maintained her wonderful old house in Los Angeles, but now had a room to herself in their house.
It was filled with reference books and a desk laden with half finished manuscripts in various stages of editing.
It was once described as her 'hiding place from rabid fans in Los Angeles'.
One in particular, was the former personal assistant to her agent Josephine Dumont.
The woman was forever turning up or inviting herself over on the flimsiest of pretexts.
This continued even after Josephine had fired her for other reasons, she still persisted on pursuing a 'friendship' Anna did not want.
While Anna could have fogged her memories, she chose not to use her vampiric powers, preferring to be tolerant of the obnoxious twit rather than risk exposure.
The woman was merely annoying rather than an actual threat and not worth the risk.
The new moon appeared in the evening sky and the clay bottle was retrieved from the darkest corner of the basement, where it had aged for almost a month.
Freya, Dena and Anna led Roger into the parlour where the three women induced Roger to sit in the straight backed chair while they waited for the spriggan to arrive.
When the sun finally dipped below the western horizon he appeared, seemingly out of thin air.
He glowered at Roger and muttered something under his breath before clearing his throat and declaring, "It is th' first ay th' new moon. Th' potion is ready noo."
Freya handed him the clay bottle and he peered closely at the waxy seal around its stopper.
He then turned around and held it up as if someone unseen behind him was also inspecting it.
Moments later, the spriggan turned back around and declared, "Despite mah concerns, Ah was tauld tae oversee th' makin' an' eventual use ay thes potion. Ye will bevvy it up in a body gang, otherwise it wullnae be effectife!"
The spriggan twisted the stopper loose and out it came.
Wordlessly, he handed the bottle to Roger, wordlessly, Roger accepted it.
He was briefly tempted to sniff the bottle, but a glare from the spriggan convinced him it was not a good idea.
Roger smiled slightly at everyone and raised the clay bottle to his lips.
The first taste he got was purest bitterness, almost impossible to swallow, but swallow he did.
Each swallow was a different flavor, almost as if he was tasting all the milestones of his life.
Bitterness followed by a brief sweetness, then despair and loneliness, followed by satisfaction and a sense of purpose.
Then more bitterness and anger and loneliness followed by a sense of wonder and the warm glow of love as he finished the last of the potion.
Tilting his head back to ensure he'd gotten it all, Roger straightened his head again and handed the now empty clay bottle back to the spriggan.
The spriggan smiled slightly and hurled the bottle into the fireplace, breaking it into hundreds of fragments and activating the spell.
Roger began feeling very sleepy, as if he had not slept in many days and now, it was all catching up to him.
The spriggan smiled as darkness descended upon him and he dimly felt himself being lifted from the chair and carried out of the parlour.
He had vaguely familiar dreams of scenes from his life, only now he was seeing them with a clarity unknown to him before.
Strange creatures watched with him as he went once more through the milestones of his life.
Once more he saw himself as a boy abandoned by his mother and living in a group foster home.
His only playmate, an imaginary friend, only now he could see the imaginary friend.
A boy much like himself, also abandoned and unwanted.
The boy smiled at him and assured him that he was going to be alright as he faded from view.
The faces of those he had killed in combat briefly appeared and they too, assured him that they were alright and he was not to blame for their deaths before they too, faded from view.
A warm presence arrived and from it, emerged a towering young girl growing and blossoming before his eyes, with a promise of great beauty to come.
Next, a tiny woman centuries old and with her came an enormous wolf, a protective presence that asked for nothing more than acceptance.
Roger felt himself smiling and laughing as he laid hands on the furry giant and dug his fingers into the deep fur.
He felt himself curling up with the giant wolf and sleeping like a child before the crackling fire, like a tiny child without a care in the world.
The huge wolf was his protector and nothing bad would happen while he slept, he slept deeply, secure that his giant wolf companion was standing guard over him.
While the long slender body and the tiny body slept with him, a fourth presence emerged wreathed in shadows, not fully alive and not fully dead.
A being trapped between the two planes of existence.
A being also fearful of being alone and of being feared.
This being carried a powerful healing spell, a spell that could only be invoked when the recipient was near death and is loved by this being.
The fourth being joined them by wrapping her shadows around them all in a protective cocoon of impenetrable darkness.