The House of Lees

The House of Lees

It started two generations ago, with a dispute in the ownership of a large portion of land. On the land, which was in Scotland, was quite a large mansion and a few, about six, farms that produced part of the income for the house. The dispute occurred when they usually do, that is, when the old owner died and left two sons, twins, and no specification on who would inherit.

It turned into a huge debate; there was a lot of fighting going on and not just with words. Normally, if no specific son was named successor was specified, the succession would go to the eldest son. However, no one knew which of the twins was older. This fact was never announced or even told to either of the boys. (My own grandfather doubted anyone had known) Well, finally, the British came and ordered us to figure out who would succeed or they would appoint someone from somewhere else. The owner of this estate would, of course, watch over and govern the surrounding countryside. (And oversee the tribute we pay the English)

So, that made a lot of us jump. We voted and decided that the sons would fist fight and whoever won would inherit the land and all the duties thereof.

In Scotland or Ireland, fist fighting is a common way to handle disagreements. So, on the appointed day everybody, naturally, came. We placed bets and most of the people were rooting for Shawn, which was one of the brothers. The other ones name was Thomas. Well, anyway, they fought and we placed bets on who would win. Shawn to mostly every ones delight won and Thomas was out cold.

The next development was really fishy. It seems that Thomas went to the British and told them something (probably a lie) and they when the came to officially appoint the new owner, they appointed Thomas instead of Shawn. We, the people, saw shifty dealings between Thomas and the British. After this “Official Appointing,” we had to live with their decision.

Shawn lived in the house with his brother for a while and everything was fine. Then Thomas, the traitor as we came to call him, went and married a British noble woman. She looked down on us Scotsmen and made Thomas throw his brother out. Shawn was physically weak at this point and could not work as well as he used to. So when he was thrown out he couldn’t work or do anything for a living. The only thing that he had left was his mind and he was knowledgeable in our ways. He knew the old spells and curses of the druids and knew the truth of the old tales.

Shawn was angry at his brother and not just because of him throwing his brother out. He was angry that Thomas had turned from the old ways and traditions and turned, in most respects into an Englishman. He decided that his brother and descendents deserved to be taught a lesson. He put a curse on the house that made it so that anyone who lived in it and wasn’t a Scot in heart would, when they die, haunt and walk the halls of the House till someone, who was a Scot in heart, came to be Lord of the House.

After the casting of this curse Shawn left and was never seen again. Some thought he went north, some say south, but as for most people, they say he went to live with the fair folk, the elves, the Sidhe. As for his brother, he was scared at first, but after awhile he convinced himself it was foolish superstition.

Thomas, after this, showed his true colors. He taxed the people hard and didn’t tolerate any practice in the old ways. He fined or jailed those that did. Whenever someone challenged his authority, he had them killed and never made any exceptions. He did all this and a few more atrocities while fulfilling all his duties to the British. The British didn’t care about any of it as long as he did his duty.

The years went by and no fulfillment of the curse showed. Then about ten years later Thomas’ wife died and, though no one new for sure why, he went crazy. He refused to admit to her death and never left the House again. He had a daughter and two sons, who followed their father in their unbelief of the old ways. All of them, that is, except for his daughter, who loved the old ways and was loved by all who met her. She was a dainty little thing and never grew to be as big as her mother. Her name was Lora and she absolutely loved to sing. She went and married a local lad, who was a Shaw, and her father tolerated this, but never treated her as family again. Of his two sons, his older one left after his mother died and never returned from England and his other son remained to take over after he died.

This brings us to now. I know what you’re thinking, “But our Lord is good to us and honors the old ways.” Let me explain, about fifteen years ago, the son of our “noble” Lord died and left a son. He was not the normal kind of man. But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.

Before his father died, he married a girl who was uncommonly beautiful. She had the most beautiful face that mortal eyes had ever seen. He met her in the forest one day and was brought to her by her singing. She sung so beautifully that he thought she must be an angel and brought her home. She had blond hair and fair skin. She also had inhumanly green eyes, but she wasn’t one of the Sidhe. Her ears weren’t pointed. He loved her so much that he began to tolerate the old ways, but didn’t believe them himself, so the curse was not lifted.

At this time I came to the House. I came as a servant, the carriage driver. She loved to ride out and see people. She was always happy. On one occasion in particular, right before she had his son, she told me to drive her to the forest. I asked her who she wanted to see there and she told me, “An old friend.” So, I drove her to the forest and she got out and told me to wait in the carriage. She was gone for hours and sometimes I heard her singing, other times I heard a deep male voice. When she returned, she was in tears. She never told me why and I never asked. I just drove her home and she kept coming out to visit people until she had her baby.

She stayed a little while after that and when the harvest came she left. The lord went out to the forest and looked calling for her for days. Meanwhile, the women of the House watched over the baby. I stayed at the House during evenings and was the only one that would. Everyone else was afraid of the ghosts. My mother told me never to fear the dead and I never have. When the Lord came back, I gave him a note that I had founding the baby’s cradle. He opened it and read it and told me that the boy’s name was Haridhon, the meaning of which I have no idea, and that I was to raise him, but not tech him any of “those foolish old superstitions.”

Haridhon grew older and asked me all sorts of questions concerning the House and its inhabitants. I told him what I could and left it at that. I wouldn’t tell him not to ask other people about things. He learned the old ways from other people, not me and he was becoming a good person.

One day I took him into the forest and we came upon an old man. He took the lad up and started teaching him the old magics and things. Afterwards, the old man asked me to bring Haridhon to the clearing every week thereafter. I agreed, of course, and told him not to tell of this to his father. He told me that he wouldn’t and that was that. A few more years passed and the old lord became sick. He had me bring his son in to him everyday at sunset. I would leave them alone and take him away after the lord called me back in.

Haridhon started roaming the halls at night and talking to the ghosts. I knew he was doing this, but wasn’t going to stop him.


One evening I was wondering the halls when I heard Haridhon talking to someone. I didn’t recognize the voice of the person he was talking to. It was a woman and she sounded English is all I know. I stopped in the corridor and listened.

“—you’re my grandson,” the woman’s voice said.

“Yes,” replied Haridhon, “and I would like to know why you walk the halls at night.”

“Oh! I do this because otherwise I meet my husband and I don’t like to do that.”

“Why is that?”

“Because even now he rants at nothing in particular. He stands there and says things like, ‘Why aren’t we in the afterlife?’ or ‘Why is don’t our spirits have rest?’

“I answer him and say, ‘Dear, it’s because of the curse your brother put on the house.’

“To this he says, ‘What? My brother didn’t have the power to command the dead! That stuff my family did was just superstition.’ Then I would just shake my head and continue my wanderings.”

“Even now he doesn’t accept?”

“Even now.” She answered sadly and continued her wandering.


The next day he was considerably less happy and when I asked why, he just shrugged and said that today was the day that we should go see the old man. That was the last day we saw the old man. He told us it would be and that now that he had taught someone the old ways he could rest. We went home then and I taught him the rest of his lessons.

In the next few days I heard moaning and harsh laughter in the halls at night. Then finally on the last of the month, it was August, I heard a harsh voice. This voice was male and the other voice I heard was Haridhon’s.

“So, your out again tonight I see.” Said the man to Haridhon.

“Yes Grandfather.” Haridhon replied. “I have to convince you that your mother and brother’s traditions weren’t superstitions.”

He went about the persuading and, by the end of the night, the man’s voice sounded convinced. Before morning I peeked out of my door because I wanted to see what old Thomas looked like. What I saw was not what I expected. I saw Thomas and he was translucent, but I also saw someone else and he was also translucent. It was Haridhon! He was translucent and was hugging his grandfather.

The next day I asked him about what I had seen the night before. He answered me by saying that it was just his magic. It was one of the things the old man taught him to do. It was also something that could be done while one slept and made it so one could talk to ghosts on a more personal scale.

Ah! Look at the time! I must be going. But until I return, think on what I have said.