Thread: Being Fair to the Fairy (Lano & Darkangel)

Sir Samuel sighed, reflecting on the mild misery of his existence, as he and his men worked in the spring rain. How did he ever get roped into these things? Oh right...chasing after the Duke's pretty daughter, after her noble father had told him his advances to her were not welcome, since she was planned for another. Stupid, in retrospect. Now he was assigned to the most distant problems of the Kingdom. In retrospect, not being even more under the local thumb of the Duke had some advantages. He shook out his dark blond hair, spraying water like a dog and earning an irritated look from his field Sergeant, who, unlike himself, was not mounted on a fine comfortable warhorse, above the rivulets of water crossing the orchard they had staked out. Samuel stretched his powerful arms and regarded his loyal friend and manservant. Apologies Germain, we are all already wet enough. Besides, I should personally inspect the final work. Why don't you mount Lady Spite, keep her company, and I shall do my duty. He slid from the saddle as the short, stocky Germain easily lifted himself to her back, patting her affectionately and stroking her as Samuel strode forward grinning. Well, he had managed to please both of his more valued companions. Germain would, no doubt, spoil her shamelessly in his absence...and she would be better behaved for the caring attention lavished upon her by the aging warrior. Samuel's powerful legs strode forward quickly, his lean form hardly leaving a mark on the drenched path, as his woods boots were touched only to grass tufts that would show no print. At heart, Samuel was a hunter and loved the natural beauty aroind him. No, only the weather was foul, though that was needed as well, for it would wash away any scent of his work crew. Not the most glorious of jobs, this one. Still, this problem was intriguing. The beekeepers were complaining of something that stole honey, but not all of it. There were no tracks, and the apiaries were generally not near trees, so how was the thief doing it? Well, the bait apiary was literary dripping with honey. Hidden overhead, and below were sandwich nets. They would trap anything from hummingbird to bear, and would immobilize the intruder. Sir Samuel looked it over carefully. There was no trace of the nets to be seen. Perfect. Everyone backed off 100 yards to wait. He yawned and stretched blinking his steel gray eyes, and tossing his shoulder length hair. He was leaner than most knights, only 160 lbs or so, and average height, but very adept with sword and lance. He remounted Lady Spite, noticing a bit of carrot protruding from her contented lips. He was drowsing in the saddle when the nets went off and he hurried forward, weapons ready. The rain had long stopped and a heavy fog had settled over the field. He wondered what form of creature it might be, even from a distance the close sprung nets could not have contained anything larger than a rabbit. Honey dripped all over the center from the smashed hive. Whatever it was, it was now a sticky mess and should be easily subdued. He was glad that he had had iron wire in the center of each rope to prevent the creature chewing its way out. But why had he insisted on iron, when copper would not have rusted and was easier to wire he did not ken. He had an odd feeling, and could almost feel the shade of his Grandmam, the wise woodswoman patting his shoulder in reassurance. Moving close, he gazed at a wondrous sight. Was it truly a Fae? Without thought the words he'd been taught leaped to his lips Creature wrought of Avalon, all Thy magiks shall be gone, by woven iron, which dost Thee lift, Thou art now bound and owe the gift, of service 50 years or more, with no revenge, reprise or score. I bid Thee now Thy true name give or perish all Thy life to live, Thy name I'll treasure, n'er to tell, lest all of Fae do me unwell. By earth, air, water, fire see, Thou child of Fae, must follow me. My designs must be Thy own, or you will perish, all alone. He waited to hear the name that would prevent the dire curse from seizing the Fae. He'd had no choice, for he could not risk its anger against himself and his men.