#atozchallenge: Kelpies

Previous: Jaculus

“Slow down, Ataneq!” Jane called as she ran after the adlet. “I can’t run as fast as you.”
Ataneq grinned back at her. “You have useless human legs. You should grow two more, like me!” He slowed down, allowing her to catch up.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a fine day, and you can’t do anything until the portal opens so we might as well enjoy the day.”
“What if - what if the Queen comes after me?”
“Ah, but that’s why we left my cottage. She would go there first, see? So now we keep moving until she is so tired she can’t keep up!”
Jane looked at him with some misgiving. “Can’t she track us?”
Ataneq shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
They soon came to a rushing river. Ataneq plunged into the icy water. Jane sat down by the bank. She watched the adlet splash around idly for a while, then looked further up the stream. To her astonishment, she saw a white horse with a sky blue mane swimming in the river towards them. Ataneq saw it as the same time and stared at it with his mouth open.
“What is that?” Jane called out Ataneq.
“I - I don’t know,” he replied. It ignored the adlet, heading instead towards the bank.
She wasn’t sure if it was a trick of her eyes, but it seemed, faintly, that the horse’s mane was constantly dripping with water, occasionally curling up like a thick mist.
“Aren’t you beautiful,” Jane said in awe.
“Of course I am,” the horse answered, with a little derisive snort. “Want to go for a ride?”
Jane blushed. “You - I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know you could. Uh well.”
Ataneq laughed. “I thought you’d know by now that this isn’t quite back home, Jane.”
“Jane, is it? That’s a nice name. Come on, want to go for a ride?”
“Well, I - I don’t know how to ride.” Jane wished she could stop stammering, but the beautiful horse in front of her was making her wits confused. “I mean, I’ve never ridden a horse.”
“A horse! I’m not a mere horse,” the creature neighed. “I am the water horse, the Ceffyl Dŵr, the Bäckahästen, the Kelpie of these shores.”
“Yes, and a nuisance,” a voice spoke up from the trees. “I wish you’d go back to Scotland and leave me in peace.”
“Why not you go back, dear Ghillie Dhu and leave me here in peace?” the Kelpie snapped. “Or maybe you’ve forgotten that we’re not welcome there anymore.”
A dark-haired man dressed in leaves and mosses emerged yawning from a nearby copse. His eyes focused on Jane. “What are you doing back here? Didn’t Euthalia lead you home?”
Jane stared at him with a blank look. “Who’s Euthalia?”
“The dryad. She said she led you home last night.”
“She’s been with me in my cottage all night,” Ataneq said.
“Then who -” the Ghillie Dhu frowned. “Two humans in a day. This is not good.”
“How about a ride then?” the Kelpie said brightly.
“No, Kelpie, we don’t want her death on our hands,” the Ghillie Dhu said, still frowning at Jane.
“Well, I just thought I’d help the Queen a little. Her fairy folk are on the way anyway.”
Jane backed away, Ataneq flanking her.
“What do we do?” she asked him helplessly.

Next: Leanan sídhe
Back to the theme list
---

From Wikipedia:

The kelpie is a supernatural water horse from Celtic folklore that is believed to haunt the rivers and lochs of Scotland and Ireland; the name may be from Scottish Gaelic cailpeach or colpach "heifer, colt".
In mythology, the kelpie is described as a strong and powerful horse. It is a white and sky blue colour and appeared as a lost pony, but could be identified by its constantly dripping mane. Its mane and tail are a bit curly. Its skin was said to be like that of a seal, smooth but as cold as death when touched. Kelpies were said to transform into beautiful women to lure men into their traps. They created illusions to keep themselves hidden, keeping only their eyes above water to scout the surface.
The fable of the kelpie varies by region. The kelpie's mane is said to be a sky blue colour. The water horse is a common form of the kelpie, said to lure humans into the water to drown them. The water horse would encourage people to ride on its back, and once its victims fell into its trap, the water horse's skin would become adhesive and the horse would bear the victim into the river, dragging them to the bottom of the water and devouring them—except the heart or liver. A common Scottish tale is the story of nine children lured onto a kelpie's back, while a tenth kept his distance. The kelpie chased the tenth child, but he escaped. Another more gruesome variation on this tale is that the tenth child simply stroked the kelpie's nose but, when his hand stuck to it, he took a knife from his pocket and cut his own hand off, cauterizing it with wood from a nearby fire.

#atozchallenge: Jaculus

Previous: Imps

Darrick fumed silently. As soon as the Elven King had dismissed him, Erurainon had grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the elven halls. His elves had then flung the bag back over his head and with grips as tight as vices, started to haul him away.
“Wait - Please you have to help me.”
“Shut up.”
“Eru -”
“Don’t you ever speak my name.” His voice was a low growl. “Now shut up, or I’ll shut you up.”
They’d been walking for a long time since, as silent as the grave. He could barely hear the sounds of the elves passing - they were as quiet as his mother. Mother, Darrick thought.
“Just listen to me, uncle.” He felt the grip on his arm tighten. “You search far and wide for my mother. You know the pain of a missing loved one. Don’t you think I feel the same for my daughter?”
He waited for a reply.
“Just lead me to the Old Fairy Kingdom. Lead me to where your… people last saw her. Your grand niece. I won’t come back here again, I promise.”
There was a whisper, nothing more.
“You won’t be disobeying anyone. Please, just this one favour.”
They stopped so suddenly that Darrick knocked into the elf in front of him. He blinked as they pulled the bag off his head. They were back in familiar forests and the sun had risen higher than he'd expected.
"You are at the edge of the three realms," Erurainon said. "Straight ahead you'll find a portal through to the Old Fairy Kingdom. It only opens for a span from even until midnight. We go no further than here in this light."
Darrick looked at the place Erurainon had pointed at, and when he turned his head, the elves had vanished into the forest.
"Thank you," he called anyway, sure that they could still hear him.

There was nothing in the clearing except for the rubble of an old house. To wait until sun down was a long time. Darrick contemplated returning home first - he'd been gone all night, after all. Ivy and Mary would be frantic. He was just about to turn when something small and heavy hit him from behind, sending him tumbling like a rock.
The imps surrounding him laughed.
"What was that for?"
"Get down, elf-man. A jaculus hunts you."
"What?"
"Just follow us."
"Where?"
"Somewhere. Nowhere. Anywhere. Just follow us if you want to live."
Darrick hesitated, but the little people pushed and pulled him and he allowed himself to be led by them. After all, Ivy trusted them. Or used to, anyway. Once they reached the edge of the house, he saw it. The small dragon creature hissed at him, frustrated that his prey had gotten away. It seemed to glare malevolently at him before slinking away.
"Thank you," he said, wondering at this turn of events.
"Thank us? Thank the Witch. If it were not for the Witch, we would not care about you. Already we waste time with you, clumsy elf-man."
The imps huddled together, ignoring him. They seemed to be tracking something.

The silence of the forest made him uneasy again. Could it be the elves returning? Or could it - he caught a flash of dark gold from the corner of his eye. The jaculus had not left. The imps’ squabbling remained at the edge of his awareness. No, no, no. The dog-man would not take her in. Why not? He has a kind heart. We should look for the dryad instead.
This time, he was aware. When the dragon creature pounced, he ducked, grabbed a convenient rock (the same one the imps had thrown at him, he supposed) and threw it at the creature. It hissed and slunk away again.
The imps stopped squabbling to stare at him.
"Hm. The elf-man has his uses after all."
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Who are you looking for?"
The imps shared uneasy glances and huddled again, this time whispering so quietly that Darrick couldn’t make out what they were saying. Finally, what seemed to be their spokesperson turned to him. “We have decided that you will indeed be of greatest help in our mission for the Witch, no matter how we do not like your kind. We search for the Witch’s daughter.”
Darrick stared at them in incomprehension. “I don’t see why -”
“Come, we have no time to waste. The portal here is closed. We must go the long way.”
“The long way to where?”
“To the Old Kingdom, of course.” The imps set off at a slow jog.

Next: Kelpie
Back to the theme list.

---

From Wikipedia:

The jaculus (or iaculus, pl. jaculi, meaning "thrown" in Latin) is a small mythical serpent or dragon. It can be shown with wings and sometimes has front legs. It is also sometimes known as the javelin snake.
It was said that the jaculus hid in the trees and sprang out at its victims. The force of it launching itself at the victim led to the association with javelins.[1] Pliny described it as follows: "The jaculus darts from the branches of trees; and it is not only to our feet that the serpent is formidable, for these fly through the air even, just as though they were hurled from an engine."[2]

---

HELP, I'M MAKING THIS UP AS I GO ALONG!

I had a crazy busy week and now I've lost my lead. :(

#atozchallenge: Imps

Previous: Half-elf

It took most of Ivy’s effort to get out of bed in the morning. She glanced over to Darrick’s side of the bed and frowned. Walking out to the living room, she called out, “Darrick? Darrick, where are you?”
Mary stuck her head out of her room. “Didn’t he come home last night, Mother?”
Ivy shook her head, heading to the kitchen. “Do you know where Jane kept the herbs?”
“Isn’t it in the basket?”
“It’s almost empty. Can you help me search?” She filled a kettle with water and placed it to boil over the fire. With care, she shredded a handful of the herbs in the basket. It looked like there would be enough to last her another day. Throwing the herbs into the boiling water, she inhaled the scent that billowed out around her head. It was probably a trick of her mind, but she felt stronger already. She settled down by the fire with a steaming mug in her hand.
Mary came out of the kitchen, perplexed. “I can’t find it.”
“What time did Jane get home last night?”
“I - I don’t know.”
“What time did she leave this morning?”
Mary admitted that she hadn’t seen Jane at all, hesitantly telling her what had happened the night before, glossing over meeting Charon and talking vaguely about meeting Euthalia.
“The dryad said she was safe? Are you sure about that?” she pressed one last time. Mary nodded. Ivy stared at the fire for a long time.
“Mother?”
“Go to your room, Mary.”
“But -”
“Go to your room, close the door and stay there until I call you.”
As soon as Mary close the door behind her, Ivy laid aside her empty mug and headed to the fireplace. Pulling out a loose brick from above the mantelpiece, she scrabbled in the hole until she found the parchments she had hidden there. She laid them out on the floor in sequence in front of the fire, taking a seat cross-legged in front of them. Silently, she recited the unfamiliar words in her head, trying them out until they fit. Then she chanted.

The imps fell like raindrops from the roof, chattering incessantly. Ivy fell silent as they formed a circle around her, keeping clear of the parchment. She gathered up the sheets, watching them.
"You have not summoned us for years," an old imp, with a shock of white hair and mud-blue eyes said, not quite looking at her.
"I have not had need of you until now."
"And we should help you? Now, after all these years?"
"I have done nothing wrong to you. Did you not enjoy your freedom?"
"We have not had enough to eat."
"What is your price?"
"We could ask for your firstborn... or we could not." They shifted uneasily at the look in her eyes.
"My firstborn is missing, along with her father."
"Pah. We have nothing to do with his kind."
"But you have everything to do with hers. She was last seen by the dryad Euthalia in the Old Kingdom. Find her for me and I will reward you greatly."
Murmurs started amongst them, growing from a trickle to a roar. Ivy glanced at Mary's closed door.
“Quiet,” she hissed. “Will you do it?”
“We will try.”

Next: Jaculus
Back to the theme list.

---

From Wikipedia:

An imp is a mythological being similar to a fairy or demon, frequently described in folklore and superstition. The word may perhaps derive from the term ympe, used to denote a young grafted tree.
Originating from Germanic folklore, the imp was a small lesser demon. Imps were often mischievous rather than evil or harmful (demons in Germanic legend were not necessarily evil), and in some regions, they were portrayed as attendants of the gods.
Imps are often shown as small and not very attractive creatures. Their behavior is described as being wild and uncontrollable, much the same as fairies, and in some cultures, they were considered the same beings, both sharing the same sense of free spirit and enjoyment of all things fun. It was later in history that people began to associate fairies with being good and imps with being malicious and evil. However, both creatures were fond of pranks and misleading people. Most of the time, the pranks were harmless fun, but some could be upsetting and harmful, such as switching babies or leading travellers astray in places with which they were not familiar. Though imps are often thought of as being immortal, many cultures believed that they could be damaged or harmed by certain weapons and enchantments, or be kept out of people's homes by the use of wards.
Imps were often portrayed as lonely little creatures, always in search of human attention. They often used jokes and pranks as a means of attracting human friendship, which often backfired when people became tired or annoyed of the imp's endeavors, usually driving it away.
Even if the imp was successful in getting the friendship it sought, it often still played pranks and jokes on its friend, either out of boredom or simply because this was the nature of the imp. This trait gave way to using the term "impish" for someone who loves pranks and practical jokes. Being associated with hell and fire, imps take a particular pleasure from playing with temperatures.
To this end, it came to be believed that imps were the familiar spirit servants of witches and warlocks, where the little demons served as spies and informants. During the time of the witch hunts, supernatural creatures such as imps were sought out as proof of witchcraft, though often, the so-called "imp" was typically a black dog, black cat, lizard, toad, or some other form of uncommon pet. [1]

#atozchallenge: Half-elf

Previous: Ghillie Dhu

The hands that guided Darrick pushed him to his knees.
“What is this, Erurainon?” The deep voice came from in front of him.
“We found this man wandering in the forest, in direct defiance of the covenant.” Darrick recognised the voice of his captor.
“Is that so? What did he have to say about it?”
“He claimed he had no knowledge of the covenant - and that none in their village know if it.”
“A likely story. Well, let me see him then.”
The bag was pulled off his head. Darrick looked around to find that he was facing a tall, ornately carved oak throne in the middle of an unfamiliar forest. The trees here rose higher than any he had remembered seeing, and were lit with a strange ethereal glow. All around him, elves stood looking at him with varying expressions.
Darrick could almost feel the weight of the Elven King’s stare. He lifted his eyes to the throne and matched it with a glare of his own.
“Why have we not seen you before?”
The question was as unexpected as it was strange. “What do you mean?”
“You. We have not seen you in our halls, at our table. You are one of us, and yet you are not.”
“Father?” Erurainon looked at the Elven King quizzically.
“Bring him here.”
The elf gripped Darrick's forearm and pulled him to his feet.
“We can do without those restraints,” the King said.
“But Father -”
The Elven King stepped forward, waving aside Erurainon's protests.
“What are you looking for?” Darrick finally asked as the King scrutinised his face. He rubbed at his wrists, where the rope marks stood out red and angry.
“What was your mother’s name?”
“Lisa.”
The King frowned. “Lisa or Lisse?”
It was Darrick's turn to frown. “We - well our village called her Lisa, but my father - he called her Lisse.”
“Lisse?” Erurainon interrupted. “Erulisse? Father, what are you getting at?” Darrick's captor alternated his perplexed gaze between his father and the intruder.
“Is she still alive?”
“I don’t understand -”
The Elven King gripped Darrick's chin. “Tell me, Adanion, is your mother still alive?”
“No. No, she’s not. She was killed in a raid when I was a child. How - how did you know my nickname?”
“Is that what she called you?”
“Darrick Adanion, she called me. None but her. In no one else’s hearing. How did you know it?”
“Explain, Father!” Eruranion cried.
The Elven King shook his head. “Not here. Bring him to my chambers.”

“Father, I love him. I cannot live without him.”
“But he will die and you will not.”
“Then I will die with him.”
“Why must you give up your immortality for his brief life? Forget about him. In a short span of time, he will be no more. You will find love amongst us.”
“It has been done before throughout the ages. They yet tell of Arwen and Aragorn, of Beren and Luthien, of Idril and Tuor. Why can there not be a tale of Erulisse and Adam?”
“If your heart is set on this -”
“It is, Father.”
“We are closing the portals, Lisse. Men are not welcome here any longer. There will be no choice for your children, not as Elrond and Elros were given. They will be sons of men. ”  
“I - I understand.”

Darrick sat silently as he listened to the Elven King’s story.
“You never told me, Father,” Erurainon's voice was an angry whisper. “For years, I thought her lost. I searched for her.”
“And now I have. We could not close the portals, not completely, as you know. In the light of the moon, men may still enter our realms. So we signed our covenants with the villages of men in order to protect our dwindling folk from the world of men. Less than fifty years, and they have forgotten. But it is to be expected. The lives of men are short and their memories are shorter still.”
The King sighed and sunk into his cushioned chair.
“And what will you do with me now?” Darrick asked.
“Do with you? Nothing. Go home, Darrick Adanion, and never come back. You have no place here.”

Next: Imps
Back to the theme list.

---

From wikipedia:

In Norse mythology, a half-elf is the offspring of an elf and a human.
Notable examples include the Danish princess Skuld of Hrólf Kraki's saga, and the hero Högni of the Thidrekssaga (his mother was a human queen), and the royal line of Alfheim, which was related to the elves and more beautiful than other people, according to the Þorsteins saga Víkingssonar.

In other contexts: 

The concept was borrowed by modern fantasy authors. Perhaps the earliest such published usage is the character Orion in Lord Dunsany's The King of Elfland's Daughter.
The concept gained popularity through its use in the writings of English fantasy author J. R. R. Tolkien. As a result, half-elves have become common in other fantasy writings and related material such as role-playing games. In Tolkien's works, the term Half-elven or Peredhil refers only to a few related individuals throughout history, however, in many post-Tolkien writings, the term half-elf designates an entire race.

#atozchallenge: Ghillie Dhu

Previous: Fairies

The Ghillie Dhu was almost asleep. The slight spray from the waterfall nearby was welcome relief to the heat of the afternoon. He stirred as the chatter in the trees grew louder.
“Shush,” he muttered. They quietened for a while, and the Ghillie Dhu was in a restful slumber when the ongoing conversation erupted into a quarrel.
“What is it?” the Ghillie Dhu roared as he got up, bleary eyed. “Can’t a faerie get a decent nap anymore?”
“Tell him what you did, Euthalia! You just tell him!” a tree nymph squeaked at another, pointing a finger at him.
“It has nothing to do with him,” the other nymph replied. “You keep your nose in your own business, Althea.”
“But the Queen -”
“Has nothing to do with it. There is nothing else to say.”
The Ghillie Dhu sighed. He hated it when the dryads quarreled. They weren’t his to take care of, but he did anyway. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, studying the red-faced pair. The other tree spirits had slunk away at his roar, not wanting to get involved.
“Euthalia.”
“Yes, Ghillie Dhu?” She looked at him sullenly.
“Tell me.”
She rolled her eyes. “She’s making a fuss over nothing. Seriously, I think her priorities -”
“Euthalia.”
“Fine. A child wandered into the Kingdom and I helped Charon escort her out before she could do any harm.”
“Now the Fairy Queen is after our heads, Ghillie Dhu! You have to report her! She broke the rules and -” Althea stopped when the Ghillie Dhu waved his hand at her impatiently.
“Why did you help her?”
“Her father once did me a good turn.”
The Ghillie Dhu stared at her suspiciously. “A human once helped you?”
“Yes.”
“You do understand, Euthalia, that everything you do affects the dryad community? And everything that affects you dryads and tree nymphs will affect my trees?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t just - just help humans and not expect that our community will be affected.”
“That’s what I said, Ghillie Dhu, I told her,” Althea whined.
“If she’d stayed, we would have been in bigger trouble,” Euthalia protested. “She would have eventually wandered into our territory, and if the Queen found her here, then wouldn’t we be implicated?”
The Ghillie Dhu hesitated. “That is true - if she had eventually come here…”
“But you said she was with the centaur. Why would she have come here?” Althea asked.
“She was at the edge of the forest, and the trees were closing in on her. Where else would she have fled if the centaur had not called me? Maybe you should have told your trees to let her through so that she could have gone home on her own,” Euthalia turned on the Ghillie Dhu.
“I felt - I wasn’t paying attention to their chatter last night,” he admitted. “I was distracted elsewhere.”
“So -”
“So we do not speak of this again, Althea,” the Ghillie Dhu cut her off. “She came in, and she left and there is all there is to this. Now go away and let me get back to sleep.”
He lay back on his bed of moss beside the stream and closed his eyes, ignoring Althea’s angry glares.
Euthalia closed her eyes and asked the trees about the other girl. Her face was grim when she left.


Next: Half-elf
Back to the theme list.
---

From Wikipedia:

In Scottish folklore the Ghillie Dhu or Gille Dubh is a faerie, a guardian spirit of the trees. He is kind to children, but generally wild and shy. Said to be dark haired, he is described as clothed in leaves and moss (similar to a Green Man in England and Wales). He especially likes birch trees, and is most active at night. In lore, this solitary spirit is said to reside primarily near Gairloch andLoch a Druing.
It is also a term used in song, including "code-songs" in which it was used to symbolize the Stuart heir, probably deriving from the time when the future Charles II, son of the executed Charles I, was in exile following the English Civil War. Charles was dark-hued, with black hair, and so was given the code-name "Gille Dubh." The term was later extended to mean his younger brother, ( James VII and II), after he was exiled following the rebellion that put his daughter Mary and her husband William of Orange on the throne.

I had trouble choosing this one. On one hand, Ghillie Dhu felt a little too "specialised" but on the other, most of the others on my list didn't quite fit into where the story was already going. Then I figured, I already have dryads. Why not link these tree people together? :)

#atozchallenge: Fairies

Previous: Elves

Jane awoke to the smell of bacon. A smile spread upon her face as she sniffed. Then she opened her eyes and sat up with a jolt.
“I wasn’t dreaming,” she said to no one in particular. She got off the narrow bed, stopping to smooth down the sheets and fold the blanket before turning to inspect the place. In the light of day, the little cottage looked positively cheery. She followed her nose and her ears through an open doorway, where she saw Ataneq stooping over a low fire, pan in hand.
“Good morning, Jane,” he greeted her.
She returned the greeting, studying him with great curiosity.

“So… what were you doing out here last night?” Ataneq asked as they tucked into their breakfast. They were seated on the ground at a low table that Ataneq had pulled out from a corner of his tiny kitchen.
“I was picking herbs for my mother’s medicine. I lost track of the time and it started to rain,” she hesitated. “I've been past here many times before but this is the first time I've seen your cottage.”
“Oh, you've never looked hard enough,” he replied. “It’s hard to see wood amongst wood.”
“No, but I've been through these woods almost daily - hey!” Something tugged at bacon, making it jump off the fork.
“But never at twilight.”
“Stop that,” Jane said, stabbing at the bacon that was jumping back and forth. Ataneq glanced over and chuckled.
“Here,” he said, reaching over and cutting off a lump of bread and placing it on Jane’s plate. “Now show yourself.”
A winged girl about as big as Jane’s palm materialised. “You spoil my fun, dog-man,” she grumbled, flitting over to land beside the bread.
“You don’t eat bacon anyway, Petals,” he replied.
“What are you doing here, human?” Petals cocked her head to the left as she peered at Jane.
Jane repeated her story, watching the fairy’s expression. It wasn't exactly hostile or mean, but it was unnerving all the same.
“You need to leave,” Petals said.
“I am leaving. Right after breakfast.”
Ataneq shook his head. “You can’t. The portal only opens from twilight until midnight.”
“What? But I can’t -”
“She needs to leave now.” The fairy turned to Ataneq, ignoring Jane.
“She can’t go back until the portal opens tonight,” the adlet repeated.
“Even so, she can’t stay here.”
“Why?” Ataneq said, holding up a hand to silence Jane’s protests. “What do you know?”
“The Fairy Queen is angry. I can feel it in my soles to the tips of my wings. Do not court the wrath of the Queen.”
“I don’t understand,” Jane said.
“The treaty was broken twice last night, human, evidenced by your presence here. The Fairy Kingdom has been breached, and you, dog-man, are harbouring a fugitive. Not that I care what happens to you,” she smiled almost sweetly at Jane, “but I do like to keep my friends out of trouble. So, dear girl, as much as Ataneq likes you, you must go.”
“I don’t bow to the Fairy Queen,” Ataneq said after an uncomfortable silence. “She remains my guest until she is able to leave again this evening.”
“You don’t bow to her, maybe, but you still do live in her land, under her rule. Think about that.” Petals glared again at Jane before zipping away.
“Will she -”
“She won’t tell,” Ataneq interrupted. “She’s a good friend. But we must find ways to keep you hidden.”
“Why does she hate me so?”
“The fairies have not been treated well by humans, Jane. It’s a generational grudge she bears, not any personal animosity for you. Her ancestors were once enslaved by men a long time ago.”
“What was the treaty she mentioned?”
“I don’t know. I keep to myself as a stranger in this land - this was the first time Petals brought it up. I don’t like the sound of it.”

Next: Ghillie Dhu
Back to the theme list.

---

From Wikipedia:

A fairy (also fay, fae; from faery, faerie, "realm of the fays") is a type of mythical being or legendary creature in European folklore, a form of spirit, often described as metaphysical, supernatural or preternatural. Fairies resemble various beings of other mythologies, though even folklore that uses the term fairy offers many definitions. Sometimes the term describes any magical creature, including goblins or gnomes: at other times, the term only describes a specific type of more ethereal creature or sprite.^[1] Various folkloristic traditions refer to them euphemistically, by names such as wee folk, good folk, people of peace, fair folk (Welsh tylwyth teg), etc.^[2]

---

Monday plug: Love in Penang giveaway runs for another 3 and 1/2 weeks! Enter NOW.

#atozchallenge: Elves

Previous: Dryads

The stillness unnerved him. Where were the foxes that slunk through the bushes in search of prey? Where were the stripe-faced badgers digging for grubs? Where were the owls that hooted in the dark? Where was the wind herself? No, it was unnaturally quiet for an evening out in the woods. His eyes scanned the edges of the path, hoping to see where his daughter had left it. The rain had stopped, but everything was mud and slush, making it almost impossible to track her. He only hoped that she wasn't lying somewhere with broken bones.
There was movement in his peripheral vision. He whipped his head around to make out what it was. He was greeted by the point of an arrow. Darrick stared steadily at the man’s impassive, unreadable face, wondering at the stern, unyielding look in his eyes.  Slowly, Darrick's eyes wandered down the haughty lines to the long, blond tresses that lay thick and straight down to his chest, and the slightly pointed ears that peeked through. He was aware of the soundless movement of people emerging around him until he was surrounded.
“Amused?” The elf lowered his bow. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a man take a walk in his own backyard?”
“You've strayed quite a bit from your backyard,” he said, glancing in the general direction of the village.
Darrick followed his gaze. Not one twinkle of light shone through the foliage, nor did any peak of the encircling fence peek through.
“I had need to.”
“Need does not justify your breaking the covenant.”
Covenant? What covenant?”
“Do not try to hide your guilt with protests of ignorance, child. The ancient covenant my father swore with your forefathers must not be broken. The night is ours, boy, as sure as the day is yours. Do you see us break our word? You should not be here now.”
“My daughter is missing. And I know nothing of this covenant you speak of.” An uneasy feeling tickled Darrick's thoughts. What had governed their unwritten laws? What was behind the old wives’ tale of danger in the forests at night? He had been out before - certain herbs had to be harvested by the full moon - but he had never kept to the known paths, always favouring stealthy runs to sacred Druid hideouts, until today.
“Does not your council still rule?”
A short laugh escaped Darrick's throat. “Our council is made up of drunks and thieves. They’ll not remember anything more than where to find the best free wine and women.”
The elf frowned, then looked up at his company and nodded.
“Hey,” Darrick protested as two elves twisted his arms behind his back and tied them together.
“The law was broken, and you must pay. Tomorrow I will speak to your council and rectify this terrible state of affairs.”
“But my daughter -”
“We have not seen her here today, I can assure you.” He paused as one of his companions approached him and whispered into his ear. “Ah, a young girl was seen going into the cottage of the dog-man during rainfall. We have no jurisdiction there, but I can assure you she is safe. For now at least.”
“Who’s jurisdiction is that?”
“She has entered the Old Fairy Kingdom, under the rule of the Fairy Queen.”
“And where is this?”
“This is where the Elven King rules,” the elf said as they threw a bag over Darrick's head.
“What will you do with me?” Darrick asked as he was propelled forward, hands gripping his arms tightly.
“Ah, we shall see.”

Next: Fairies
Back to the theme list.

---

From Wikipedia:

An elf (plural: elves) is a type of supernatural being in Germanic mythology and folklore.^[1][2] Early elves, whose description depends almost entirely on Norse mythology texts, were a race of beings with magical skills, ambivalent towards humans and capable of either helping or hindering them. But Christianized societies were viewing elves in increasingly sinister light.^[3] In Anglo-Saxon England as early as the 10th century, Old English medical books attest to elves afflicting humans and livestock by "elf-shots". The German elf or alp was seen as an "addler" of people in medical books, but already in the High Middle Ages there were prayers warding against it as the agent causing nightmares, and eventually for the alp its identity as nightmare spirits became predominant.

However, I think I'm more influenced by modern fantasy representations of elves, by such writers such as Tolkien and Flewelling. 

#atozchallenge: Dryads

Previous: Centaur

Mary stood watching the trees. They seemed to be crowding onto the path, blocking out the moonlight. Behind her, the sound of Charon’s hooves grew faint. The silence of the trees menaced her.
Charon stopped and turned back to look at Mary.
“What’s the matter?” he called.
“I’m afraid,” she replied.
Charon hesitated unhappily. He didn't want to leave the child alone and yet he would get into a lot of trouble with the Council if he were to go any further. The wind stirred lazily amongst the leaves and his face brightened.
“Euthalia!” he cried, a smile growing on his face. Mary turned to look at him. He was looking deeper into the forest, his back towards the path.
“Euthalia!” Charon cried again. “I have need of you, friend!”
The whispering amongst the trees grew as he called for Euthalia over and over again. Mary backed away from the darkening path until she bumped into Charon. Charon held a protective arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t worry, child. Euthalia will help you.”
“Who is he?”
“She’s my friend,” Charon said as a lithe young woman stepped out from among the trees.
“Associating with humans now? How delightfully naughty of you, Charon. What would Sophea say?”
Charon blushed. “I found her alone in the forest. She was lost and needs help to get home. Can you help her, Euthalia?”
The dryad seemed to almost float over the grass as she circled Mary, inspecting her with her sharp eyes. “Help a tree-killing human?”
“She’s just a child…”
“We - my family does not harm trees, friend dryad,” Mary spoke up, her dark eyes round with wonder. It seemed as if she had stepped into an unknown world this one night.
“You can say anything you like, child, but can you prove it to me?”
“My father is Druid,” she said, pressing down the butterflies in her stomach. “We honour and revere the great oaks of this nation.” The words her father had spoken often echoed in her head. She hoped she was saying them right.
"A druid? In these British Isles? Do they yet survive?" Euthalia said with some astonishment. "I long thought their breed had died out, banished by the Romans, persecuted by the Christians, all that they stood for stripped away."  There was a sadness in her voice, in the way she stood, like a drooping tree.
"He is seer and sorcerer, if you like," Mary said, a little miffed by her reception.
"What is his name?"
"Darrick."
Euthalia spun like the wind, the leaves chattering behind her, the boughs bowing in conspiracy. Stopping nose to nose with Mary, she asked breathlessly, "Darrick Oak-knower?”
Mary nodded.
“Does he know you are here?” Euthalia asked.
“No - he is out searching for Jane, my sister.”
“Ah.” Euthalia closed her eyes, standing as still as a tree, only her hair waving in the soft breeze.
Mary thought she seemed to grow a little translucent, her pale hands taking on a slight tinge of green. She blinked, and rubbed her eyes. The dryad was staring at her curiously, as solid as Mary herself.
“She is safe,” Euthalia said. “Come, let us bring you home before your father has another fright in the night.” She took Mary’s hand. “Goodbye Charon. May the stars be with you.”
“Thank you, Euthalia. May your leaves be ever green.” Charon cantered away as the two girls walked down the path.
This time, the trees seemed to open the way as they passed, allowing the moonlight to shine on them. The feeling of oppression faded away.

Next: Elves
Back to the theme list.

---

From Wikipedia:

A dryad (/ˈdraɪ.æd/; Greek: Δρυάδες, sing.: Δρυάς) is a tree nymph, or female tree spirit, in Greek mythology. In Greek drys signifies "oak." Thus, dryads are specifically the nymphs of oak trees, though the term has come to be used for all tree nymphs in general.[1] "Such deities are very much overshadowed by the divine figures defined through poetry and cult," Walter Burkert remarked of Greek nature deities.[2] They were normally considered to be very shy creatures, except around the goddess Artemis, who was known to be a friend to most nymphs.

#atozchallenge: Centaur

Previous: Baba Yaga

Sometimes a good gallop was what was needed to clear one’s head. So Charon thought as he galloped around the open field, stretching his muscles, putting on some serious speed. He came to an abrupt stop. There was something strange in the air tonight. He lifted his head and sniffed carefully, cursing his muted human nose. There were somethings horses just did better. Still, he could sense that something wasn't right. Something - he spotted it, a little shadow at the edge of the forest. Curious, he trotted over. And backed away.
The child stared up at him with wide eyes. Charon looked over his shoulder, wondering if he could gallop away and let the child think that she was dreaming. But no - she was reaching out to him, holding her hand out as if to touch him.
“May I touch you?” she asked shyly at the last minute.
“I suppose you could,” Charon said uncertainly. He knew he was going to get into trouble with Alexei and the Council. But what was the child doing out alone in the middle of the night? Her touch was gentle and hesitant; she stood on tip toes and stroked his flank with awe in her eyes.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“Mother is sick and Jane didn't come home,” she said. “I thought I would help look for her, but I got lost.”
Two children lost in the woods? Charon thought to himself. How like a fairy tale. I suppose one of them will turn out to be a princess or end up marrying a prince. Or maybe eaten by a witch. Isn't that how all the stories go?
“What are you called?” the child asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“I am Charon,” he answered. “What is your name?”
“Mary. But I mean, what are you?”
“Why, do you not know? I am a Centaur,” he drew himself up proudly.
“A Centaur!” Her breath came out with a whoosh. “Father always said that those were children’s stories.”
“Aren't you a child?”
“Well, yes. I always supposed he meant that it wasn't real.”
Charon almost whinnied in annoyance. “Not real? I’m as real as you are.”
“Yes, but I suppose he couldn't know, not having met you.”
“At any rate, isn't it time you went back home? The moon is high in the sky - now is not a time for children to be out.”
“Yes, but I got lost.”
“Ah, there is that.”
“Do you know how to get back to my home?”
Charon shook his head. “We stay clear of all human habitation. I could bring you to a village, or point you in the right direction, but I wouldn't know if that were yours, so to speak.”
Mary sighed unhappily. “I don’t suppose you've seen Jane wandering about somewhere either, have you?”
Charon shook his head. He ran his fingers through his thick hair teasing them out of their sweaty clumps as he considered what to do. Then he looked up at the sky, tracing the arch of the stars with his eyes. “I suppose I will take you to the nearest village. It’s somewhere in that direction. Come along.”
Mary took his hand as they walked through the forest. Charon stared at her for a while, but didn't shake off her grip. He frequently looked up at the stars to check if they were going in the right direction.
“Can you tell the future?” Mary asked suddenly.
He narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“Only Mother said that Centaurs could read the stars and I really wanted to know if she would get well again.”
“Hmph. We don’t foretell the future in that way. We read the signs of the times, but we’re not concerned with the individual workings of humans or horses.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, we’re here, I think.” He pointed at a well-worn path through the forest. “This should lead you back to your village - or a human village, at any rate.”
“Won’t you come with me?”
Charon shivered. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ll be in enough trouble from letting you see me, as it is. We don’t like showing ourselves to humans. You - you won’t say you've seen me, will you? To any human?”
“I wont,” Mary promised. “Thank you,” she said as she let go of his hand and stepped hesitantly onto the path.

Next: Dryads
Back to the theme list.

---

From Wikipedia:

A centaur (/ˈsɛntɔːr/; Greek: Κένταυρος, Kéntauros, Latin: centaurus) or hippocentaur[1][2][3] is a mythological creature with the head, arms, and torso of a human and the body and legs of a horse.[4]

---

Need some love? Check out my giveaway here!

#atozchallenge: Baba Yaga

Previous: Adlet

“What happened then?” Jane waited for Ataneq to continue, but he seemed to be caught up in his memories. Eventually, he shook his head and looked up at her with a wistful smile.
“I took what they could give me - blankets, what food they could spare, a mended spear. As I left, they played the drums and chanted to drive away the evil spirits. I travelled for many days, over tundra and ice alike, always following the setting sun. Before long, I left the familiar places of my youth, continuing on until even the trees changed and the snow melted, until one day people stared at me with curiosity rather than fear. I knew then that I had left the land of my people. Now it was the name of Baba Yaga that terrified them, rather than what I was.”
“Who was she?”
“Was? You mean ‘is’, I think. I’ve not heard of her death yet, though she has lived for hundreds of years. She’s a frightening old woman, weathered and wise. She can be friend or foe, defender or accuser. One does not search for her lightly, and yet, I did. I wonder now at my innocence. Maybe I was too desperate then to be afraid, or maybe I felt I had nothing left to lose. After all, I was feared by my own people, though I was nothing to be afraid of. So I searched for her, asking everyone I could. Most would not answer me, and those who did were increasingly vague. It was like picking out a specific snowflake from a drift of snow.”
Ataneq looked up to see that Jane had fallen asleep by the fire. Tenderly, he picked her up and laid her on the bed, tucking her under the blankets. She stirred.
“Did you ever find her?” she asked sleepily.
Ataneq settled himself by the bed. “Yes, I did. Word of my search soon spread and one day, I found Baba Yaga waiting for me in a snowless clearing.


“Mother, can you help me?’ Ataneq asked, approaching the old woman with caution. He tried to stop himself from staring in awe at the hut that squatted behind her on long, spindly legs. 
“Why should I help you, foreigner?” She didn’t lift her eyes from her mortar and pestle.
“Because no one else can, Mother. The shaman of my home has sent me to you.”
“He has, has he? And why does he think that a crone of Rus has power over that which the seas breaks against? Is not the sea more powerful than a mere woman?”
Ataneq shrugged. “I do not know, Mother. But you are my only hope. Can you help me?”
The old woman stared at him with sharp eyes, seeming to see into his soul. “What will you do for me in return?” she finally said.
“I have nothing to offer,” Ataneq stammered. “What do you wish for?” 
Baba Yaga shook her head, clicking her tongue. “Come back when you do,” she replied, going into her hut. 
He watched despondently as the hut rose on its legs and wandered deeper into the forest.


Checking that Jane had truly fallen asleep, Ataneq curled up by the fireplace, pondering the long-forgotten question.
“What do I have to offer?” he asked the crackling fire. After a hundred years and a million steps, he still did not know.

Next: Centaur
Back to the theme list.
---

From Wikipedia:

In Slavic folklore, Baba Yaga (/ˈbɑːbə jəˈɡɑː/) is a supernatural being (or one of a trio of sisters of the same name) who appears as a deformed and/or ferocious-looking woman. Baba Yaga flies around in a mortar, wields a pestle, and dwells deep in the forest in a hut usually described as standing on chicken legs. Baba Yaga may help or hinder those that encounter or seek her out and may play a maternal role and has associations with forest wildlife. According to Vladimir Propp's folktale morphology, Baba Yaga commonly appears as either a donor, villain, or may be altogether ambiguous.

---

Reminder! The Love in Penang giveaway runs until 5/1!

Cover reveal! (an intermission)

An introvert, Special Agent Francesca moves to Las Vegas to escape her powerful, domineering mother. On arrival, multiple obstacles challenge her. She needs to approach a father she’s never met, a man who doesn’t even know she exists. Then she must play the role of a loving fiancée with a stranger. One who makes her question every unexpected emotion he provokes. Craving the chance for real undercover work, she grabs the opportunity to be involved in cleaning up gang corruption in a nasty neighborhood. When she poses as the new owner of a hotel, the deadly-dangerous situation ramps up and she’s forced to fight her way from one conflict to the next.

Sean Collins, Psychiatrist and LVPD Profiler, has never known anyone like Francesca Donovan. From first sight, he believes her to be a screwball but her beauty and maddening personality attracts him. Despite her prickly disposition, which gets them into a load of trouble, her rotten driving skills and her constant battles, he’s hooked. Once he’s roped into a mock engagement with her, his desire to make it real takes precedence over everything else in his world.

Sean Collins shared the seat kitty-corner in the four-booth set-up. He’d worked late trying to get a patient through a crisis and had gotten as far as the steak house, before hunger grabbed hold and dragged his sorry ass inside. Exhaustion had left his eyes gritty and his brain twisted like a pretzel, but two male voices still got through. Listening to a man unloading on his buddy about a mistaken one-night stand had his attention pretty darn quick.

When the friend’s advice matched with his own ideals of truthfulness between a husband and his wife, he found himself nodding. He didn’t agree with the jerk’s reasoning about being a player but he his basic counsel of honesty was sound.

Not that he was married; hadn’t found a woman he could trust further than he could throw her. What was it with the females in the state of Nevada? Did they all have to get caught up in the hype of the fun city?

Suddenly, a female voice entered his awareness. The husky note in the slightly slurred words was pleasing and he concentrated on what she was saying.

“Don’t listen to your friend. Not only is he an asshole, he’s full of shit. If you love your wife, then don’t tell her—ever.”

What the hell?

The screwball continued in the same vein, proceeding to give unwanted advice to a man who was in a fragile state and probably willing to listen to anything that would get him off the hot seat.

Sean came close to standing up and cutting her off. If he weren’t so tired, he’d have given her a piece of advice. Mind your own business! As a psychologist and profiler who often worked with the cops and saw every kind of misfit out there, he knew she’d most likely wrecked this man’s life. In her final statement, she let the poor guy have it with both barrels.

“In my way of thinking, being the best husband and father you can be will go some ways to making up for being the miserable, lyin’, cheating prick that you are.” Sean heard the noise of a chair being knocked over, a grunted swearword and light footsteps heading toward the door.

Something beyond his power to control brought him to his feet. The redheaded advice-giver stopped and their eyes caught for as long as it took her to stumble. Hers were pure liquid heat, the bluest blue he’d ever seen. Her glance slid past him as she straightened the chair and carefully manoeuvered her way to the door. The light over the entrance caught the coppery-gold highlights in the mane of loose hair flowing every which way over her shoulders and down her slight back. She bumped into the doorframe on her way out, stopped, re-aligned herself and then the nut-job was gone.

Stunned, he slid back down into his booth and the truth hit him. Hell, in Las Vegas there was every kind of mental disorder, maladjusted behavior, psychosis, neurosis and insanity a person could imagine, but some just blew the others right out of the murky pool. That stunning deranged wacko, whose fabulous long legs might get a man to do almost anything in order to get his hands on them, had just ended his otherwise shitty day perfectly. What a fucking shame!

     

FACEBOOK / GOODREADS / WEBSITE / TWITTER / BLOG

Author of The Vicarage Bench Series, Angels with Attitude Series, Vegas Series, Elvis Series and the brand new sizzling romantic suspense series called Undercover FBI. Mimi lives on the East coast of Vancouver Island and writes her romances with tongue in cheek and a mad glint in her eye. “If I can steal a booklover’s attention away from their every-day grind, absorb them into a fantasy love story, and make them care about the ending, then I’ve done my job.”

Hosted by:

#atozchallenge: Adlet

Jane kept a wary eye on the sky as she hurried along the path. Everyone knew that you shouldn't get caught out in the forest when the sun began to dip - and here she was, the sun dangerously low and a storm brewing.
“Were those herbs worth it?” she imagined the village sentry asking, refusing to reopen the gates. “Of course they’re worth it,” she mumbled under her breath. What else has been sustaining Mother? But she had gone too far and forgotten the time. A howl echoed in the distance. Jane hiked up her skirts and tried to run.
Barely thirty steps later, the rain began to pour down in torrents. “Who shelters in the forest at night? Only stupid girls like you,” she berated herself, scanning her surroundings for a place to wait out the storm. A dim light just off the side of the path attracted her attention. Her hesitation lasted seconds.
The neat little cottage was quiet.
“Hello?” Jane called as she hurried under the shelter of the porch. She wondered at the lack of the customary lamp by the doorway; the light she had seen shone through a single window. “Is anyone home?”
The door opened at her touch and she called out again. Nothing stirred, so she closed the door and hurried to the fireplace. She had almost fallen asleep in the warmth when the door slammed shut behind her.
“Who’s that?” she asked, her voice thin and shrill in her ears.
There was the sound of scuffling before a deep voice answered, “Shouldn't I be the one asking who you are?”
“I’m sorry, I didn't mean -”
“No, don’t turn around!”
Jane froze.
“You - you can stay. But - just don’t turn and look at me.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Jane tried to speak in measured tones.
“No - nothing. You’ll just… Just don’t.”
Jane kept her eyes on the fire, trying not to react to the noises behind her or the growing smell of wet dog. “What are you?” she finally asked.
Sudden silence. “What do you mean?”
Taking a deep breath, she turned around. The face of a young man stared at her, his eyes widening in horror. His four feet scrabbled against the wooden floor as he backed into the corner, holding out a towel as if to hide himself.
“What are you? Half man, half dog?”
“I’m an adlet. I won’t harm you,” he said quickly. “I don’t eat humans. I mean, there are some who - but I’m not - I don’t.”
“You were the howl I heard in the forest,” she said in a near whisper.
“You heard me?”
“Were you following me?”
“No, I was out hunting. I didn't know you were in the area. The rain washed away your smell.”
“You don’t smell that great yourself.”
He blushed. “I was caught in the rain.”
“You’re shivering!” she exclaimed. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” she said as she approached him. “You’d better come to the fire and dry out.”
They stared at each other, each trying to judge the other’s intentions.
“I’ll go this way,” he gestured to the left, “and you can stay that way.” Jane nodded. A comfortable distance maintained, the adlet sighed as he settled down beside the fire. Jane sat opposite him, watching him with curiosity across the hearth.
“Do you have a name? I’m Jane.”
“Ataneq.” He stared dreamily at the fire. “Once, a long time ago, I used to be human.”

The transformation had taken Ataneq by surprise. 
“What have you done, Keelut?” he cried at the fleeing back of his attacker. Picking up his broken spear, he trudged back to the winter encampment. 
He was greeted by the points of many arrows, spears and harpoons. Eventually Qannik took wary steps towards him.
“What is it, wife?” he asked, dropping his hands to his sides. “Why do you cringe from me? What have I done?”
“Ataneq - you are - you are not welcome here anymore.”
“What?”
“You would be a danger to our children. And you know we cannot spare any eyes to keep watching over you.” And you would hate it too, she added silently, hoping that he would understand. 
“You know I wouldn't eat them. You know I have more honour than that!” Ataneq protested. “I would give my life to protect my people!”
“We know, but you wouldn't be able to hunt either. You can’t bear your responsibility to this tribe.”
“Will you come with me?”
She looked down at her feet.
“You must go alone, Ataneq.” Ataneq looked up to see that the shaman had approached them, still in his mask, as if he had just emerged from a trance.
“What have you seen?”
“The spirits say this is an evil thing, too strong for them. But I have heard the echo over the wind. One who may help.”
“Who?”
“Baba Yaga.”
Ataneq frowned. “Who is he? I have not heard of him.”
The shaman shook his head. “She is not of our culture. She lives where the sun sets. That is all I know.”

Continuing in Baba Yaga on 4/2!
Return to theme list.
---

From Wikipedia:

The Adlet (or Erqigdlet) are a race of creatures in the Inuit mythology of Greenland, as well as the Labrador and Hudson Bay coasts. While the word refers to inland native American tribes, it also denotes a tribe with dogs' legs and human bodies.^[1] The lower part of the body of the canine Adlet is like that of a dog and their upper part is like a man's. All Adlet run quickly, and usually encounters between men end up in battle, with man as the victor.^[2]

In Inuit lore, they are often portrayed as in conflict with humans, and are supposed to be taller than Inuit and white people.^[3] In some stories they are cannibals.^[4] Inuit from Labrador use the term Adlet, tribes west of the Hudson Bay use the word Erqigdlit.^[1] The monstrous race begotten by the Adlet was identified with inland native Americans by the Labrador and Hudson Bay tribes; Inuit from Greenland and Baffin Land, which had no native American neighbors, use the term to refer to the half human, half canine creatures.^[5]

---

P/S in other matters, visit the GIVEAWAY page to win a copy of Love in Penang! (Yes, I edited that. IT'S ME!)