Chapter 73
Home is where the Silky lives.
Spring was now in full force, the frequent rains kept the ground moist and the yard was splashed with all the colors of the flowers opening up by the hundreds.
The fruit trees and berry bushes were laden with blossoms and the promise of a good harvest.
Melon and squash vines sprawled as their spreading tendrils took hold and their flowers gave way to the swelling melons and pumpkins and colorful gourds dangling from the sinuous vines.
Even the roses and other flowering shrubs were adding to the riot of colors spreading across the two acre yard surrounding the house once built for a giant.
If one listened carefully, the faint buzzing of the industrious honeybees could be heard as they continually flew from flower to flower, spreading pollen and gathering nectar.
For those that had the sight, tiny sprites could be seen flitting amongst the blossoms as they carefully tended the growing fruits.
The house once built for a giant, was now filled with life and all the windows once closed tightly against winter's chill were now open, and the fresh spring air circulated freely throughout the big house.
Roger glanced over at his towering companion, a young giantess standing nearly eight feet tall.
She was carefully examining the wooly bugs that lived in the yard.
About the size of a raccoon with sheeplike eyes, six narrow wings and four stubby legs. They consumed the chill air and patches of snow and grew an exceptionally fine wool as a result.
Their fine wool was nearly ready to be sheared and she was checking them to see how their wool was coming along.
She'd pick one up and turn it over, it's stubby legs flailing uselessly, as if it could get away from her.
After examining its wool she would set it back down and it would scurry about, its antennae wriggling as it rubbed antennae with other wooly bugs in their little 'flock' as Roger called it.
Freya looked over at him and said, "Ah'd gie them a few maur days afore they're ready fur shearin'."
Roger nodded in agreement as he dug the old ashes out of the fire pit while nearby the large salamander in residence, lay sprawled on the flat slab of black granite he liked to sleep on after it had gotten warmed by the sunlight.
He pretty much lived in their fireplaces during the cold wintry months, sleeping amongst the glowing coals.
When the time came, Freya would carefully shear the wooly bugs and give their incredibly fine wool to the fae for them to make their garments out of.
Roger finished removing the ashes from the fire pit and trundled the wheel barrow over to the compost heap to scatter the ashes on the moldering heap of yard trimmings and kitchen scraps.
Straightening up after his labors, Roger looked the yard over.
To the mundane eye, it was a carefully landscaped garden with numerous fruit trees along one side of the house and multiple garden plots along the back of the house. The front yard was dominated by a huge pine tree that was home to many large orb spiders who regularly had to replace their hard won webs after the local sprites had taken them for their gauzy outfits.
To those with the sight, it was a hive of fae activity with many of the 'neighbors' as they liked to be called, coming by for a visit with the lone human male and the towering young giantess tending to their gardens.
The mundane neighbors had watched as the once unsellable house that had stood empty for decades, became a home.
The girl, already towering over nearly everyone around was polite and well behaved even if she did raise a few eyebrows with her accent and her insistence on building a stone structure she called an Inukshuk, because her people had built them all across the northern lands.
Gradually, others came to stay until one day, a gigantic wolf and a tiny two-foot tall living doll of a girl arrived.
The huge wolf turned out to be friendly and before long, 'Sasha' as she was called, had made friends with most of the neighbors with small children and dogs of their own.
Now Sasha was about to journey north to mate for her first time and the house was about to acquire another resident.
A silky was coming to live in and take care of the house.
A letter of advisement had arrived via Hazel the fae postman, a centaur visible only to the sighted.
The letter was from the local spriggan himself, and it included instructions on how to make the silky feel at home.
Roger vaguely recalled seeing a lost banshee when he had stayed at the fae hospital under the care of Dr. Shannon.
Perhaps that banshee was now a silky and needed a suitable home, one where the old ways were honored and respected.
Freya had quickly penned a reply and sent it via return fae post while Roger speedily turned a basement store room into a cozy room for the silky.
Right next to it was a large supplies closet filled with brand new cleaning supplies and equipment, all this was per the instructions laid out by the spriggan.
Spring break was coming soon and they were planning on flying up to Canada with Sasha so she could unite with her chosen mate.
They planned on staying through spring break and bringing him back down with them to Portland, Oregon before Freya returned to school.
This time, Anita would be coming along, much to her delight and her mother, still overseas was only too delighted to give her consent.
Anna Karlsen, the resident author and secret vampire was at present, staying in Los Angeles finalizing the release of her latest novel and was girding her loins in preparation for the talk show circuit and book signing events.
The arrival of the silky would mean that the house would not be sitting empty while they were gone, at least it would not have the appearance of being empty.
To someone with the sight, it was actually a pretty lively place even when it appeared to be empty.
A would be burglar had learned that to his sorrow when he had tried breaking in recently.
Sasha and Dena had cornered him and kept watch until Roger and Freya had returned home from their evening out.
The police were called and the terrified young man was arrested and taken to jail, babbling about giant wolves and living dolls.
Roger was thankful he had not run into one of the more terrifying 'neighbors' living in the area, the ones Sasha protected them from, it could have ended fatally for him if he had been able to see them.
Spring break was now one week away and the three of them were gathering their necessities for the trip.
Anita mostly followed Freya's lead in selecting her clothing.
The Ape mountain region stayed fairly cool even during the summer and snow was still likely to be found on the rocky slopes.
Warm clothing and rugged boots were the norm for daily wear.
Roger made sure he had his granddad's old lever action Marlin hunting rifle and sufficient ammunition, as he usually got roped into going out for an elk or two while he was visiting.
He also more importantly, picked up a barrel of ale for his thirsty hosts.
There was a knock on the door and when Anita answered it, she saw the spriggan standing outside in an official capacity.
She smiled and bade him enter the house.
He 'harrumphed' and strode into the house, his dark eyes glancing warily about, he was entering a human built dwelling and it fairly reeked of civilization.
Right behind him was a small woman, barely five feet tall.
She wore an old fashioned and very modest outfit made of silk in pastel shades of violet, lavender,and mauve.
Her flaxen hair was covered by a silken bonnet in similar pastel shades and her eyes were a lovely shade of lavender.
Silk gloves covered her hands and only her face and a part of her flaxen hair was exposed.
She entered the house carrying only a single bag and stood silently, her lavender eyes glancing about, her small, neat mouth firmly set.
She bowed stiffly to Roger and Freya as if to acknowledge them as lord and lady of the house, while she merely nodded at Anita.
Roger, not sure what to do, made a bit of a show in presenting her with a key to the house.
The silky smiled slightly and blushed the palest hint of a maiden's blush as she graciously accepted the key and bowed again.
Moments later, she whisked away down stairs to occupy her room.
Roger muttered, "Not one for talking much is she? Is there a reason why she doesn't speak?" he asked the glowering spriggan.
He frowned and all but growled, "She was a bean sidhe, 'er voice coods deafen mortal lugs. Bean sidhes bide it ay doors whaur they can wail an' keen tae their hearts content. Ye will fin' ways tae communicate."
He looked around the house again and muttered, "Tch! Sae civilized! Wa th' queen wants tae visit haur is beyond me!"
With tongue firmly lodged in cheek, Roger replied drily,"When she does come to call, let us know in advance so we can scatter some soil and leaves on the carpeting."
The spriggan evidently missing the joke, nodded and replied, "Ah shaa dae 'at!"
With that, he turned on his heel and strode briskly out of the house.
Roger closed the door and remarked, "Well ladies, we now have a silky living here. She will take care of the house. That doesn't mean she is a servant. She lives here too and will be treated with respect."
He grinned and quipped, "Think of her as the landlady."
Making sure to leave a cup of fresh cream on the mantelpiece, Roger tuned in for the night.
He quietly wondered what he'd find in the morning.
From what he'd heard, silkys could run a tight ship, figuratively speaking and often had their own ideas on how to run a household.
The next morning Roger rose, washed up, got dressed and toddled his way into the kitchen only to find that not only was it spotless, she was making their breakfast for them.
The silky stood at the stove deftly manipulating a heavy skillet (His favorite one, he noted.) a large fluffy omelet and a pair of spatulas seemingly, all at once.
On the counter sat three plates partially laden with buttered toast and sausages.
While he poured himself a coffee and doctored it with cream, the omelet was swiftly transferred to the plates and thence to the breakfast table.
Wordlessly, Roger poured a cup full of fresh heavy cream and took it into the front parlour, where he noted the salamander curled up next to fresh firewood.
Placing the cup on the mantelpiece, he returned to the kitchen to see Freya standing there with a bemused look on her face, she had planned on making breakfast this morning and the silky had already finished cooking it.
Knowing better than to argue with a house spirit, she took her place at the table without comment.
Anita came in bleary eyed and took her seat.
She had been up very late wrestling with a story idea and sleep had eluded her for hours.
Typically on a Saturday, she would join them for breakfast then stagger back to bed until midday, when she would resume her writing.
Anita smiled at Silky and bowed slightly towards her whereupon Silky quickly turned away and scurried out of the kitchen.
Anita muttered, "I don't think she likes me very much."
Roger smiled at the bedraggled girl and said, "It isn't a question of her 'liking you'. To her, you are a guest and so is anyone else besides Freya or myself. She regards us as the lord and lady of this house and her duties are to take care of us and any guests we may be entertaining.
"Silkies don't accept gifts or tokens of gratitude either, what they will accept is a cup of fresh cream left out on the mantelpiece for them. Which I've already done, so you needn't bother."
Anita sat there blinking the sleep from her blue eyes before she asked, "Where did you get all of that?"
He grinned and replied, "When I got the letter advising me she was coming to stay, it included a bunch of instructions on the care and feeding of silkies. Freya had to help me out with it because the spriggan wrote it all in runes, evidently using our own alphabet would be too 'civilized' for his tastes!"
Anita managed a chuckle, then she remarked, "He'd better be careful, he may end up in one of my stories!"
"Of that, I have little doubt." commented Roger.
After breakfast, Roger headed off to a nursery that carried a broad selection of patent roses.
He looked over the selection until he found the one he was seeking, a rose that matched the pastel shades worn by Silky.
The trade name was 'Silver lady' and he bought two bushes to be planted in the yard before nightfall.
They were to commemorate the arrival of Silky and the blooms would celebrate her pretty outfit.
Returning home, Roger placed the rose bushes where he wanted them and fetched his garden spade out of the potting shed.
Working quickly, he soon had two holes dug and was getting ready to plant the roses when Freya came out and joined him.
He smiled at his towering companion as she deftly removed the roses from their nursery buckets and set them in the holes.
Stepping back for a moment, Freya studied them carefully and gently reoriented them to her liking, then she knelt and began gently packing loose soil around each root ball.
Roger fetched a full watering can and stood by while Freya carefully pushed the soil into the holes and pressed it into place.
She held out her hand and he handed her the watering can so she could soak the freshly planted roses.
Standing back to admire their handiwork, the two stood side by side.
He, a lean, rangy man of six foot in height with sandy hair and a perpetual, sunburnt by tropical climes look.
She, a towering, slender young girl now standing close to eight feet tall, with thick, red-gold hair confined into two great braids hanging nearly to her waist.
Her pale skin and Norse goddess looks combining to make her into a young woman of stunning beauty.
Without conscious thought, the two joined hands and gazed over their demesne, the two acre yard once nearly bereft of life, now transformed into a garden spot with fruit trees and garden plots.
A potting shed and a modest green house now stood where once were only tangled weeds and undergrowth.
Freya being a Jotun, an earth lady, had with Roger's help, transformed the house into their home.
Her presence had drawn many new 'neighbors' into the area and Roger heard the whirring of tiny wings nearby.
Maribel and her husband were teaching their child how to fly.
Roger looked up and smiled at them as they patiently showed the tiny child how it was done.
Nearby he heard the squeaking of tiny voices, Dena was enjoying a visit from her granddaughter and she had brought her own children.
The 'tiny terrors' as Roger teasingly referred to them were playing with the recently shorn wooly bugs, who failed to appreciate the attention they were getting from the wood elf children.
Roger smiled, wooly bugs were always so shy after getting sheared, the sudden loss of their wooly coats always upset them and they would cluster together for mutual reassurance.
Having to deal with pesky wood elf children was almost too much to bear and the wooly bugs would curl up tightly, their vestigial wings folded up against their momentarily bare skin.
Fortunately, the wood elf children grew bored with their unresponsive, fuzzy toys and went to go play with the raccoon children who lived up near the huge manor house overlooking the area, they were so much more fun!
This was the house Silky now found herself living in, and after she had watched them planting the roses in her honor, she knew she was accepted and loved.
She wrote her friend, the spriggan and told him of their welcoming her with two rose bushes planted in her honor.
She took the hazel wand she had and with it, she struck her basement windowsill twelve times.
Placing the letter within easy reach, she knew it would be picked up before midnight and delivered before dawn.
That was how the fae postal service worked.