Many years ago, tucked away in the coastlines of western Scotland, there lived a fisherman.
Even in a town as small as his own, the fisherman’s presence largely went unnoticed. His life there was peaceful, sure- but it was also rather lonely. This was a man who spent most of his days out on the water, and he’d yet to find someone willing to join him.
Luck had not been kind to the fisherman as of late; and he found himself spending more and more time on his boat, trapped in a worrying cycle.
Time always seemed to slow to a crawl out on the open sea. And when the fisherman had nothing to occupy his mind other than a vast expanse of blueish-grey waves and the ache in his upper back, - born from far too many years hunched over the side of his rickety little vessel - that ache for companionship only worsened.
But he could handle that, however. The fisherman could tolerate the boredom, the protests of his overtired muscles- but returning to the shore with an empty net?
That was a new problem. And it was far from something manageable.
Defeated as per usual, the fisherman had just decided on finally docking his boat for the night. He’ll try again tomorrow, he had conceded. This misfortune must pass eventually. But as he trudged across the stony beach, shivering as the bite of mid-winter air cut through his tattered jacket, he started to notice something strange.
An unfamiliar laughter floated through the air, the sound seeming just a little too harsh for the women it was supposedly coming from. It was sharp and grating, more reminiscent of the bark of a seal than anything he’d heard from his own kind.
The fisherman felt his eyes grow wide as realization hit him, and he turned sharply on his heel in an attempt to locate the source of that odd noise.
But the sound of his heavy boots scraping against the rocks seemed to echo off the nearby mountains, reverberating throughout the now silent-bay. And by the time the fisherman was facing the direction of the water, the shoreline was already empty.
He blinked, a little dumbfounded; the strange occurrence had seemingly ended just as quickly as it began. In fact, the fisherman almost convinced himself that he’d made up the whole thing- until he spotted the smooth, dark object draped over a nearby boulder.
The quiet clatter of pebbles beneath his feet was the only sound as he approached the rock, picking the thing up to study it closer. It was a seal’s pelt, he realized with a start, still damp from the ocean.
But as the fisherman ran his fingers through the soft fur, trying to figure what to even do with it- a new sound caught his attention.
The laughter had borne a closer resemblance to that of an animal, but this weeping was undoubtedly human; rough, panicked sobs, only interrupted by the occasional gasp for air.
The fisherman turned around once more, and before him stood a young woman.
She was tall, whipcord lean and pale as the moon that rose steadily above their heads. Her dark hair hung in loose waves past her shoulders, seemingly just as wet as the sealskin coat in his hands.
(She was also stark naked, but the fisherman was trying hard to ignore that fact. His gaze had drifted no lower than her shoulders, and he would be keeping it there.)
“Why are you crying?” The fisherman murmured, as gentle as he could manage to be. “Are you hurt?”
He took a cautious step forward, reaching out in some attempt at comfort, but the stranger nearly crashed into a nearby rock in her haste to scramble away. There was a sense of helplessness to this woman, but an odd one- as if that wasn’t something she was used to feeling.
The stranger scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hands, somehow moving further away from where he stood.
“Please, Sir.” She begged, voice wavering.“You have my coat. I cannot return home without it, for I am one of the Selkies.”
The fisherman paused, a bit astonished. He had suspected as much when he heard that barking laughter, but never dreamed he would speak to one.
Having taken his stunned silence for refusal, the Selkie only began to panic further. She rocked back and forth on calloused heels, burying her face in her palms.
“Please!” The Selkie repeated through her tears, the terror painting her expression clear. “What do you want? I’ll give you anything, just give it back!”
The fisherman didn’t blame her for crying. He had heard stories of these creatures, of the men with brides closer to seals than women. Hauntingly beautiful, yet battered and trembling- aching for nothing more than to leave their keeper’s side.
He would have been terrified as well, if that was his fate. And from that fact alone, it really wasn’t a hard decision for the fisherman to press the coat into her waiting arms.
They stayed there for a brief moment, two sets of hands loosely clutching sealskin; the Selkie looking up at him with startled eyes.
When the initial shock wore off, she moved faster than the fisherman would have thought to be possible; wrenching the coat away from him and clutching it protectively to her chest.
She waited there a moment longer, as if expecting him to speak. To present her with a demand, a price for her freedom. But in all regards, the fisherman was a bit oblivious. He didn’t know that’s what she was waiting for; had no idea what to make of her expectancy, nor her confusion.
But then he blinked, and just like that- she was gone.
At first, the fisherman thought that was the end of it. But over the following days, he started to notice a seal lurking around his boat; spending far more time in his presence than he’d seen from the creatures before.
The fisherman knew it was the Selkie. She was watching him, observing his behaviour behind wide, dark eyes and a little wet nose just barely poking out above the waves.
It was hopelessly endearing to witness her curiosity, but the last thing the fisherman wanted was to scare his strange new friend away. And so he waited patiently, slowly gaining her trust with the megear spoils of the day’s catch.
Finally, after weeks on end of this routine, the seal began to edge closer to his boat; until the fisherman was able to reach out and stroke her silky, sun-dappled fur.
She eyed him cautiously as he did so, but made no immediate move to pull away; allowing the affection for a few moments longer before nipping playfully at his fingers.
The fisherman yelped, chuckling softly as he pulled his hand away. But when he leaned over the side of the boat, expression filled with knowing; the seal growled nervously, all of her softness dispersing in the presence of an apparent threat.
“I’ve known it was you for days.” He murmured, trying very hard not to sound accusatory. “Why have you been watching me?”
The seal watched him carefully for a long moment, as if going over her options.
Trying to understand the logistics of the Selkie’s transformation was an impossible task. It just wasn’t something his mind could comprehend, watching as her body melted away like sea foam and her atoms recollected into a new form.
Before the fisherman even had a chance to process, the Selkie was climbing into his boat with surprising grace; draping her spotted coat over lap to preserve some semblance of modesty.
She still clutched the sealskin tightly, the fisherman noted- her knuckles were white against the fur, clearly ready to pull it away from him at a moment’s notice.
When the Selkie finally spoke, it felt like the roar of the sea and waves crashing against the rocks; the sound harsh and gravelly, undoubtedly inhuman.
“I am trying to understand you.”
“Why?” The fisherman asked, tilting his head. “What is there to understand?”
The Selkie paused. She seemed taken aback by this response, brow furrowing slightly.
“You didn’t take my coat.” She spoke like that was all the context neered, but the fisherman said nothing. He couldn’t figure out what she was trying to imply, and his silence only seemed to confuse her further.
“Why didn’t you take my coat?” She insisted, her tone beginning to take on a frantic edge. “I don’t understand! Are you looking for something from me? Am I indebted to you? Why would you let me go?”
“You wanted it back.” The fisherman replied slowly, a bit dumbfounded. “You don’t owe me anything; it’s your coat.”
The Selkie didn’t respond for a long time. She just stared down at her lap, mouth quivering ever so slightly. “What do you want from me?” She finally pleaded, voice now breaking entirely.
The fisherman frowned, his curiosity long-since overtaken by concern.
“I want nothing.” He tried to explain again, desperate for her to understand. She seemed so distraught, and the fisherman had no idea how to fix it. “Why should I? What have I done to deserve anything?”
“You gave me back my coat!” The Selkie insisted, continuing to parrot her argument like a broken record. “You left, telling nobody of what you saw! You must know how much we are worth to your kind, so why would you just set me free? How does that benefit you?”
The fisherman exhaled slowly, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.
The realization was an ugly one, and his stomach churned at the thought of what she’d expected from him. “Did you expect me to hunt you down?” He asked, even though the mere idea made his stomach churn painfully. “Turn you over to men far closer to beasts; who would take whatever they wanted from you, knowing you cannot run without your coat? Do I really seem so cruel?”
He made a point to keep his movements slow, ensuring the Selkie could see exactly what he was doing when he reached out. His rough hands settled atop her own, loose enough that she could easily pull away.
“You are not a thing to be kept.” The fisherman insisted, outrage dripping from his words. “I don’t care how many times you show up on my beach, nor in my boat. You’ll leave here with your freedom, and owe nothing in return.”
It was clear the Selkie didn’t quite believe him. But for the first time, it almost seemed like she wanted to.
After that day, the fisherman’s luck seemed to turn. His nets pulled up more fish than ever before, even though a few were a little more battered than they should’ve been- bearing suspiciously seal-like teeth marks.
As the years passed, the fisherman began to leave his door unlocked; growing used to waking up during the night, when a now-familiar visitor curled peacefully into his side.
Of course, she wasn’t always around. The Selkie came and went with the tides, and the fisherman missed her terribly when she was gone. But he still kept the promise to his lover, never forcing her to stay.
And each time the fisherman returned home to find her sealskin coat hanging by the door, entirely unguarded- he knew that he’d made the right choice.
