Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren’t go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl’s feather! - Allingham
The first installment in my IT Fae AU !! We're starting from the very beginning here.
The language that the fae are speaking is Sylvan, the official language of the feywild in Dungeons and Dragons. I found a random translator online, there are English translations right above the sylvan sentences.
Enjoy!
Stzanthe's first friend was made on his fifth birthday. It was early morning, when the large doors to his room thundered and his father marched in, face decorated with a smile.
[My boy! Happy fifth year.]
"Mo buachaill! Sásta cúig bhliain." He cooed, and Stzanthe could do nothing but stare at his father, his golden eyes wide and still a little fogged from sleep.
His father crouched in front of the bed, and the little boy sat up, swinging himself around so they were facing.
[I have a very special present for you this year.]
"Mé thug leat a an- speisialta i láthair seo bhliain." He whispered, and Stzanthe's ears twitched in growing eagerness. What had his father brought him?
The king motioned to the door, and he was suddenly alerted to the clamour behind it. He didn't have to wait long, however, until he was privy to the source of it- bound and led in by a guard, was a hurbryn. He seemed the same age as Stzanthe, but his face sported a vicious scowl, and his strange yells curled around sharp teeth, his lilac eyes lit up in a glare.
"Let go of me, you bastards! I'll kill you! Go suck on a troll dick, you tin can!" The hurbryn was yelling, and Stzanthe tilted his head, curiosity welling in his chest.
[Happy birthday, son. He's all for you. Now, take his name.]
"Sásta Breithlá, mac. Sé's goléer lehay leat. Anois, ghlacadh aige ainm." His father spoke softly in his ear, and Stzanthe really had no choice but to follow along. So he sat up, slipping from his covers and padding on light feet over to the tied up hurbryn.
He cleared his throat, and in the cleanest voice he could, said exactly the words he had practised with his father, holding out a hand.
[May I have your name?]
"Féadfaidh mé agat do ainm?"
The hurbryn stared at him, face now pale with surprise, blinking blankly. For a moment, Stzanthe was worried he had done something wrong, until a guard nudged at the boy, more unfamiliar sounds falling from their mouths.
"Your name, human."
"Fuck off!" He spat, but the hurbryn turned to Stzanthe anyways, vulnerability and fear suddenly flickering in his eyes.
"...Richard." he murmured, reluctantly grabbing at Stzanthe's hand, and the rush that spread through him was dizzying. But his father smiled proudly, so Stzanthe smiled back. With one more whispered "Sásta Breithlá", his father and the guards were gone, leaving Stzanthe completely alone with the hurbryn.
They both stared at each other, for a long while. Neither was quite sure what to do. Eventually, though, Stzanthe stepped forward. Richard moved back, of course he did, but the little faerie child paid the movement no mind. In no time, the binds around Richard's wrists were gone, wound up in Stzanthe's hands, and then thrown uncaringly to the floor.
"...Oh." the hurbryn murmured, blinking at the rope now wound up messily on the floor. "Uhh...thank you?"
Stzanthe stared at him. More unintelligible sounds. He tilted his head, eyes fixed unblinking on Richard, before pulling him over to his bed, pushing him down on it and climbing back in with him. As far as he was concerned, it was far too early for this.
Richard yelped as he was pushed, but otherwise made no sound, allowing himself to drift off as a new cuddle victim for this strange fae boy. It wasn't too bad, he decided, snuggled up against the warmest sheets he'd felt in months.
