June Prompts 🌼 Randivor Stewards of Fox Hollow
I feel like writing something fun and sweet and went looking for prompts to help me along the way. I made up a Randivor story that felt fun and mostly light. Eivor is a retired soldier who inherited family land from her mothers side in Ireland. Its called The Fox Hollow Farm on paper, most people simply call it The Mac Place. Randvi is a Fae :3c lets go see what fun we can have shall we? ___
Day 1 Fairytale Ao3
The people of Laragh had expected the usual fate of inherited land.
An American relative would arrive.
There would be photographs.
There would be discussions about "potential."
Someone would mention development.
Someone else would mention holiday rentals.
Then, piece by piece, another bit of old Wicklow would disappear beneath gravel drives and planning applications.
Instead, what arrived was Eivor.
Six feet of Nordic determination armed with work gloves, a battered pickup, and enough stubbornness to concern the local population.
Within weeks she had become one of the most discussed people in Laragh despite rarely leaving Fox Hollow Farm.
She drifted effortlessly from the pub to the post office, from church steps to the feed store, without ever setting foot in any of them.
News of her traveled on its own.
The wall she'd rebuilt.
The stream she'd cleared.
The orchard she'd planted.
The sheep she'd somehow acquired.
The giant dog.
Especially the giant dog.
By midsummer there were villagers who could accurately describe the progress of repairs they had never actually seen.
“What project is she working on now?”
“Fencing.”
“She did fencing last week.”
“She is improving it.”
“How does she improve on a stone fence?”
“She researched an old technique”
Quiet stretched between them as they contemplated the extent that Eivor seemed determined to go to return things the proper way. No shortcuts for the craftswoman they were just beginning to understand.
They grunted looking thoughtful. “Why raise it?”
“She wants to keep cows.”
“How do you know?”
“I brought her coffee.”
A pause that felt like regret settled for a moment between them as they took a breath, and then two, muttering
“I wish I thought of that.”
“Bring her coffee tomorrow. I'm bringing pie. I promised. She's too skinny.”
They nodded. “She is.”
. . .
Three days later.
"What project is she on now?"
"The stream."
"What's wrong with the stream?"
"Nothing."
"Then why's she working on it?"
"She says it's beautiful and wants to keep it that way."
A long silence.
The sort of silence reserved for discovering someone has done something unexpectedly decent.
Finally:
"...that's a good answer."
"Aye."
* * *
Eivor crouched by the stream feeling pleased with herself as she cooked their lunch. Two trout she had caught. One for herself and one for her giant beast of a hound.
"You like that, don't you?" she asked, earning a pleased huff.
The hound's attention shifted suddenly across the stream toward the deep pool. His ears rose.
"Are they back again?"
The dog tensed but didn't bark.
He simply watched.
Eivor followed his gaze.
Across the water stood the heron.
Again.
The great grey bird stood among the reeds as though it had always belonged there.
Which, to be fair, it probably did.
The strange part was that it seemed to belong there every single time Eivor visited the pond.
She'd begun to suspect it was the same bird.
The villagers claimed all herons looked alike.
Eivor suspected the villagers were liars.
“If you are going to stand around, you could at least introduce yourself.” Eivor said one evening after the bird walked like something mythical creature from behind the tree, as if Eivor hadn’t checked behind the tree earlier just for that… Then the bird did something different. It tripped… not gracefully, not just a little, it splat with an awkward angle that shocked Eivor.
Hell it shocked Bork. He sat up, nostrils flared. Eivor reached out to steady him as the bird struggled a moment, before it picked itself up and shook itself out looking a little more worse for wear. Eivor breathed a breath, she didn’t laugh, but she did ask. “Are you okay?” The bird turned its back on her and went into preening its feathers. Trying to make itself beautiful again. Only then did Eivor give a soft chuckle. “Your secrets safe with me.” She said to the bird. Bork boofed as if he agreed. The next day’s evening ended by the deep water pond, under the old oak. Eivor caught fish, then she caught two… and then she caught three. Tonight promised rain, Eivor took her bounty with Bork and left one fish as a gift for the elegant ethereal bird. Her voice bright and lilting as she sang her way back to the house.
The next day Eivor went to the deep water pond, looking to see if the fish were gone, and she was pleased. She nodded and went on about her day, happy to be making new friends. Both human and otherwise.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 /
