Niamh's Tears

The forest floated with a shining, slow-creeping mist, the kind through which all manner of ghosts and Fae walk. Among the creatures of fog and night strode another form, this one of solid flesh and blood. This person carried with them a wooden case, old and a bit battered but well cared for, and nothing else. Though there were tales on tales of the mischief done to those who walked the mists at night, this one strode with confidence through the shadows and white. From his pursed lips issued a low, haunting whistle.

It was the whistle that brought the forest’s night creatures around him, and the whistle that parted the mists before him to leave the way clear for his dark eyes to see. Notes strung in lilting patterns emerged from human lips and all in the night world trembled from the power that emanated forth. Energy, magic, hung in the air and followed the traveler like a cloak, or a cloud.

Owls and other nocturnal creatures of the known world were not the only ones that came to listen to the music of the traveler. Others came as well, hidden behind this swirl of mist or that down-turned leaf. Faerie of all sorts crawled from secret places to listen and watch his progress with eyes wary of all things human. However wary, still they listened, watched, and followed as he made his way through their territory.

At last the bold explorer of mist and shadow found a place to rest; he settled himself in a clearing beneath the largest tree in the forest, the great-great grandfather of all trees that reached always to the heavens and out over the smaller flora. Below those outreaching arms, the human sat, still whistling, and pulled open his wooden case. From inside he removed a lyre of middling size and went calmly about tuning it to the melody he whistled. None of the night creatures could quite figure out what he intended to do in a forest at night with a musical instrument. Humans killed their kind, but not with such things as this. Even the Faerie, who knew a lyre when they saw one, could not imagine what he expected to do with it here. Humans were a silly lot indeed, but most chose to play their music indoors and during the daytime. Still, if one human differed from the rest, it could only be a sign of some further sort of insanity. The Faerie twittered to each other under their mist and leaf cover.

“See how silly the human is?”

“He thinks to play us a merry jig? Will we dance to his tune, or shall we take his pretty lyre from him?”

“Perhaps we should take him home with us and let him entertain the Queen if he likes. He is pretty, for a human. She may like him for a while.”

Boisterous mirth burst from all around the traveler, who seemed oblivious as he brought his fingers across the strings in the first bright notes of song. What power hung around him leftover from his whistling erupted from the moment his fingers touched them. All went quiet, even the Faerie, who all found it difficult to be still or quiet for more than a moment. Large eyes went wider as the clearing filled with music and trembling energy. Did humans have so much power? Surely not, for if they did there was no hope for other creatures.

Then he began to sing.

Faerie and animal alike remained spellbound, caught by the sound. Such a voice! It flowed so smooth from his lips with the same swell and heave as the ocean on gentle days, the pull and push of waves that cast a spell of calm over so many who listened. The song he sang shared that undulation, creating a swirling storm of music and sound and power. It seemed even great-great grandfather tree heard, for the tree began to sway with the rise and fall of the song, a rasping counterpoint added by the rustle of leaves. Only after all the Faerie began to slide closer to the human musician did one of them grasp what was happening.

“He weaves a spell!” cried out a tinkling voice. “He seeks to ensnare us with the spell of his music-making!”

This warning fell through many ears, and more than half the gathered Faerie shrieked to know they almost were swallowed by-- of all things-- a human spell. The rest felt able to resist the final pull of the spell, but were too intent on hearing the rest of the haunting song, then taunting the human man to find out where he learned such magic. Despite the warnings of their fellows, these few continued their flight forward, closing in on the musician.

He was pretty, as one of them had said. He had dark skin, but darker hair that fell around a delicate face in a curtain of jet. Over his eyes arched two jet eyebrow, thin and too perfect. The mouth from which the magic sprang was nearly colorless, but full and what humans would consider sensual. His eyes were closed, but the Faerie thought they would open when the song was ended.

On the music played, on the singer sang, and onward flew the Faerie until they danced at the very outskirts of his arm reach. Not once did he cease his song to reach for them, and not once did the dark lashes of his eyes flutter partly open to see if they were there. The Faerie swirled about in slow movements. Even had they not understood the words, these creatures would have known the subject of the song from the heaviness of the air around them, the feel of absolute despair. The musician sang of freedom and its lack, of being imprisoned by circumstance or the greed of others. This the creatures of Fae could comprehend, for long had they been the subject of hunts by humans who coveted their magic or objects of power. So they danced and sang with him.

After a long while, the song drifted to an end, lyre strings wavering with the effort of carrying on the last notes, and then did the human singer open his eyes. Black, they were, like the night above them, but empty without the stars to give them light. He did not smile when he caught the sight of the Faerie flittering before him, and this confused them. What sort of human did not at the least smile at them? It was most appropriate to fawn and gasp in awe, but even a smile would do. This man merely blinked slowly at them, set his lyre on his knee, and spoke.

“Which of you will take me to your Queen?”

The Faerie blinked their large eyes at each other, then at him, and then they twittered in amusement.

“You think any of us will take you to our Queen? Why should we? What have you done to deserve such an honor, human?”

“Honor and the deserving of it has nothing to do with it,” he replied, turning his dark eyes from them in order to pack his instrument back in its case. He seemed not to realize how powerfully ridiculous his request was. The Faerie all laughed at him again.

“You are so arrogant! To think a human orders us so!”

“You have no choice.” Lyre packed, the musician stood, turning his gaze to the creatures once more, this time a small smile lighting across his lips. The Faerie could not see there was no mirth in the expression, so laughed a third time.

“How funny! We like you, human, but our Queen will not. She does not think human arrogance as amusing as we.”

The human made no reply, merely watched them with his deep eyes, watched them in such silence the Faerie became quickly bored. One of them sighed, making a motion for the others to follow in order to find more amusing entertainment. They began to flitter away, getting halfway across the clearing before a shrill whistle cut across their path. At the sound, the Faerie felt invisible netting of woven energy tighten about them, keeping them from going any further. They shrieked indignantly, fighting the restraint. Little shining bodies flung themselves against the spun energy in vain. Not even their magic could free them, so expertly had the strands of power been interlaced, one around the other in endless connectivity until the Faerie could find no weak point to exploit.

“Treachery! Release us, human! We will not be imprisoned by your greed!”

“You should have listened to your fellows. Now who is the arrogant one, hm?” The musician chuckled when the Faerie only cried out in dramatic indignity. “Be still. You will be freed once I have had audience with your Queen.” If he meant the words as comfort, they were not, for he said them in such sharp tones the Faerie could not help but shrink from him.

“What business have you with the Queen?”

“You will only weave a spell and capture her! We do not trust you!”

“As I do not trust you. My business with your Queen is my own. If you wish to be free of me, you will lead me to her.” Shoulders rose and fell in a graceful movement as he tossed his head, sending the black curtain of his hair swaying. “Or you can attend me the rest of my days. I am only nineteen. If all goes well, I have sixty or more years left in me, but what is sixty years in the eternity of your lives?”

Despite the eye blink six decades would be for them, the Faerie had no care to spend it following and serving this human sorcerer who wielded music as his weapon. Their entire conversation discussing the idea took a fraction of a second.

“We will take you to her, but we do not promise she will hear you. The Queen of Faerie listens only when she likes and only to whom she likes. And she will be displeased if we are not freed.”

The sorcerer-musician waved a slender hand impatiently. “I’ve already promised your freedom. The longer we dally here, the longer you will be bound.”

Given no other choice, the Faerie beckoned him, and found their way no longer barred so long as he moved with them. If he stopped, unsure if they were leading him true, then they could go no more than two arm lengths in front of him before feeling the restraints of his net. If they fell behind in the hopes of having him walk into some trap, they were dragged along with him and had to cry out a warning. Before long, they gave in and ceased trying to lead him to ruin, instead taking him to a darkened archway made from the branches of two trees that reached for each other and entwined their leafy fingers, vines twisting around them like hand-fasting rope.

When questioned by the Faerie sentries guarding the arch, the captive Faerie explained sullenly their situation. The sentries laughed at them even as they looked over their human guest.

“As silly and stupid as humans yourselves! You are like children, so gullible! Should we make you go chasing the Fire Beast?”

The taunting continued for quite some time, the musician waiting patiently for it to stop. When they could think of no more jeers and after making certain he had nothing but the lyre on him, the sentries let them pass.

“But his lyre is his weapon! He ensnared us with his song!”

“Yes, and because of your folly we know better than to allow him to sing, no?”

The moment they passed under the branches of the lover trees the forest blossomed to light, white and golden with many specks of other luminescent color spinning within. The Faerie were accustomed to this sudden existence of light, and though the human was not he gave no indication of surprise and still none of the proper wonderment. In a moment the bright whiteness faded, leaving only the spinning, darting lights of the other Faerie. Among them was a single stationary light of concentrated gold, and to this the Faerie led their unwelcome guest.

Her form took shape as they approached, a young-seeming woman of fair skin dappled with flecks of gold freckles. Her hair fell down her back in a cascade of sunlight, but her eyes were the space between stars. When compared to them, the human’s eyes were not black at all, but a deep, empty blue.

“You have imprisoned my Faerie, human. I hope you have phenomenally good reason.” There was no compassion in her black gaze, nor understanding. One of her fair eyebrows lifted to see her own apathy reflected from the deep oceans of the musician’s eyes.

“No reason would be enough for you, Niamh, am I right?” Again came that small smile of his, a smirk more than a smile. “I could spin you a tale of a thousand sufferings and all it would earn me is a place in history as one of the many faceless lost to you and your realm.”

The Faerie Queen did not answer immediately. Her reticence was not entirely due to the shock of being called by name by a mere mortal. Even she, in her endless apathy and lack of compassion could see what her younger subjects could not. Beneath the emptiness of the musician’s eyes lay not a simple apathy, no mere lack of compassion. This human harbored hatred inside, burning and powerful, and a deep propensity for cruelty. Any other mortal she could trick by using such feelings against them. This mortal, however, kept all such feelings locked away so carefully only Niamh could see them, but the lock was made of stronger stuff than even she could unlock. Here, so young, was a dangerous human indeed.

"What is it you want?" Niamh finally asked when it became obvious her guest would not speak again unless she did.

"A bargain." His answer was prompt, and not a little presumptous. "I wish to make a deal with you in order to obtain something I desire."

Niamh smiled, relaxing in the face of predictable human pride. What folly! It seemed even dangerous humans were no more so than the length they could see past their own noses. Did he not know that humans who entered bargains with Fae lost their souls? Especially those that dared deal with the Queen. Only the rare few triumphed, those few pure enough of heart to be untrappable, who garnered the help of gods. This human was not one of those, not in anyone's imagination.

"What sort of bargain, for what price?"

"A battle of will and apathy," he said, levelling his eyes with hers. "We each get three tries to bring tears to the other's eyes. If I win, I get the first tear to grace your ageless cheek."

Niamh could barely believe his audacity, and might not have at all if not for the infamy of human arrogance. To ask for her tear as a prize! Such a thing in the hands of a mortal with any power would make him near a god in his own kind, and far more dangerous to hers. A good thing, she though, his ambition far outstripped his ability. All her tears were cried long ago; nothing could make her shed one now.