Domnall and the Borrowed Child

by Sylvia Spruck Wrigley

  “Trick you,” interrupted Domnall. “Not actually capture you. I just wanted to divert you towards the revel and hope you would do the right thing.”

  Elspeth ignored him and continued to stare at Micol. “Are there other humans there?”

  “No.” Micol sighed. “This isn’t something that happens often. I’ve heard of it, we sing about it in songs, but I’ve never seen it happen, and I bet Domnall hasn’t either. We don’t normally . . .” She looked at Domnall as she searched for the right words. “We don’t normally encourage your kind to mingle, let alone to join us.”

  Elspeth stared off at the mountains again. “I’ve nowhere to go,” she said. Her hand moved to her stomach and dropped back to her side. “If I’m gone, maybe he’ll acknowledge his son rather than see him orphaned.”

  She rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes and stood up. “You are offering me a life where I have none. And a purpose. I will go with you.”

  Domnall scrambled to his feet. “You will?”

  Elpeth’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Yes,” she whispered. “I will.”

  “Domnall,” Micol’s voice was steady again. “How exactly are you going to explain this at the Sithein?”

  “Ah well, you see, I have a plan.” He grinned, hope for Nighean filling him once again. “There’s a revel planned for tonight, right in front of the Sithein. We can take the . . . we can take Elspeth to the Sithein and hide her in the woods by the brook. Then we’ll join the revel and when she sees us, she can stumble into the ring and become entranced. No one need know that we brought her there. But once they realise she has mother’s milk, we’ll be laughing.”

  He stood up and smiled at both of them. “It will work perfectly, just you wait and see.”

  * * *

  The sun was setting by the time they reached the valley of the Sithein. The wind drove painful bursts of freezing rain into Domnall’s face. Micol walked in front, shoulders hunched against the cold. The shivering human’s pace had slowed as the night began to press in. “Almost there now,” Domnall called up in his most reassuring voice, but she didn’t seem to hear.

  He struggled to gather enough energy to try again. His mantle was sodden and heavy around his shoulders, his knees ached and he could no longer remember the last decent meal he’d had. “Keep going,” he said, and carried on.

  The others would be in no rush to start the festivities in this weather, especially not with the revel so close to the warm and dry Sithein. Perhaps they should rest for a short time. Maybe instead of getting there first, he could stay with the human. They could burst into the ring together, after the dancing was in full flow.

  He stopped and called out to Micol. She glanced back without stopping. “We’re almost home!”

  “You go ahead, make sure the route to the ring is clear. The human is exhausted. I’ll stay with her so she can rest.” Micol nodded and broke into a run.

  He led Elspeth under the cover of an ancient pine tree with broad gnarled limbs to protect them from the worst of the rain.

  Micol returned before the sun had finished setting. Her face was pale and her eyes frightened. “It’s cancelled.”

  “What do you mean, cancelled?”

  “Just that.” Micol ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at the wet tangles as if she wanted to pull her hair out. “No revel tonight. No ring. Put off until tomorrow.”

  “What are they playing at?” Domnall jumped to his feet, rage at his people filling them. “A bit of rain is no cause to cancel a revel!”

  He didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Elspeth sat on the damp ground, leaning against the rough bark of the pine. Her eyes were dull and listless. They couldn’t keep her out here in the cold and wet; she needed rest and food and warmth. And he needed a drink. A lot of drinks.

  The wind picked up, rustling the pine trees into a whispering roar. The rain had stopped but it would soon start again in this weather. Domnall gnawed at his bottom lip and looked at Micol.

  Her eyes were filled with frustration. He flinched at the unspoken accusation. Who could blame her? He promised her adventure and that he would keep her safe. Now here they were, in the rain with no shelter, dragging a full-sized mortal towards their Sithein. The fear on her face made it clear she expected him to fix this somehow. Some leader he turned out to be. He turned away.

  “What are we going to do, Domnall?”

  “I never said I was a hero,” he said, keeping his back to her. “I just wanted to do the right thing.”

  “That’s fine,” Micol said in a low voice almost drowned out by the whispering pines. “So what is the right thing now?” He could feel her right behind him. “What do we do?”

  He took a deep breath. “We need to find some place dry where we can rest and get warm.” He walked up to Elspeth, plastering a smile on. “We could all use some sleep, couldn’t we?”

  Elspeth tilted her head down at him. “Yes,” she said. And then, “But my milk is drying up.”

  “What?” The smile slipped off his face. “What do you mean dry up? It can’t dry up. You’re a mother. You have a baby.”

  “I don’t though now, do I.” Her face was haggard. “I don’t have the baby and I’m not feeding. The milk stops.”

  Micol put her hand over Elspeth’s thumb. “How soon?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had a bairn before, you know. I just know that it does. The aching is already getting less.” She blushed and stared at the mud at her feet. “My breasts, I mean. Full of milk, they ache. It was terrible earlier. Now . . .” She glanced at Micol and then down at the mud again. “Now it’s less.”

  Domnall stared at her. “We have to get her into the Sithein now.”

  “No way! You can’t just take some random mortal and lead her into the Sithein. They won’t take her and they’ll tear you to shreds.”

  “But . . .” He rubbed his temples. Micol was right, the Cu Sith would never let her past and he’d be accused of endangering the Sithein. If she stumbled into the ring and became entranced, they had an obligation to take her in. But not like this. He might as well lead a wild boar into the Elders’ chambers.

  Micol was still shaking her head. “Forget it. Point her towards the nearest settlement and let humans deal with human problems.”

  Domnall kicked at a tree stump. Wet splinters flew through the air. He had the human, the human had milk, Nighean needed milk. There had to be a way of getting it all together.

  “We could sneak Nighean out, bring her here . . .” He trailed off at the thought of Maeve’s face. She’d probably stab him with her rusty shears. “No, won’t work,” he said before Micol had a chance to argue.

  “If you’re caught you’ll be outcast, Domnall. You can’t do it. Wait until tomorrow night, if you must. Lead her into the ring. If it’s too late, it’s too late, but it’s your best chance.”

  Elspeth’s voice was hesitant. “Could I just follow you, without your knowing, and walk into your home?”

  Domnall perked up.

  Micol responded with a loud snort. “Follow us? Without either of us hearing your clumping footsteps? Not likely, if you even found us.”

  But he wasn’t so quick to give up. “We could say we were distracted . . .”

  “Are you mad? She somehow spots us, somehow follows us, two scouts in the wilderness, then she somehow manages to keep up with us without our noticing and spots the Sithein? And what, walks straight past the Cu Sith without getting ripped to shreds? It’s a nonsense!”

  “Maybe we could hide her scent.”

  “So the human spotted us, rolled around in the grass with us a bit, then silently followed us into the Sithein smelling of Seelie? Next you’ll tell the Queen it was you who bred with her in the first place!”

  “It’s not like you have any better ideas!”

  “That doesn’t mean yours isn’t totally insane!”

  He glared at Micol and kicked at the tree stump again. “There’s got to be a way.”
He sat down next to the human and stared into the distance. Micol scowled and paced in a circle around them.

  “What if she didn’t try to get in? What if she just slept there.”

  Micol stopped her pacing and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. “Slept where?”

  “Outside of the Sithein. Just far enough away to keep the Cu Sith from reacting. She randomly falls asleep, we find her, we take her in saying we didn’t know what else to do with her.”

  “Oh, and by the way, she happens to have the mother’s milk we set off to find,” said Micol in a low-pitched voice, mimicking his. “You have the brain of a coblynau.”

  “And you look like one,” he muttered under his breath. The pine needles roared again in the wind and a heavy drop of rain landed on Domnall’s forehead.

  He rubbed his face in frustration. He needed to stop arguing with Micol and find some way out of this. He went over it all again: she had to get into the Sithein, quickly and without attracting notice. She had to do so willingly. They had to look innocent of her arrival, especially Micol. By Finvarra, it would take a miracle to get them out of this. If only the revel hadn’t been cancelled, the mortal could have walked into the ring and fallen into the trance . . .

  He jumped to his feet. “Micol!”

  Micol stopped pacing and looked at him.

  He stretched an arm out towards her and bowed slightly. “May I have this dance?”

  She stiffened, her eyes large. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “No. How many fae does it take to make a ring?”

  “What kind of riddle is . . .” Her words froze as his meaning sank in. “Do you think that would work?”

  “Why not?”

  Elspeth watched them in confusion. Domnall glowed with the brilliance of his plan and explained it to her in a rush. “Micol and I will dance as if we were alone. It’s just possible that if we were dancing, we would not hear your thumping near; it’s happened before. As long as we are dancing, it’s a ring. So you stumble in and are caught. You’ll be entranced, and we’ll have no choice but to take you back to the Sithein.”

  Micol spoke up. “Domnall.” Her face was as pink as a sunset. “You know we’ll have to pretend that we’re, well . . .”

  He dropped his eyes. Of course they would. The deception would do him no harm but Micol, well, she was young and adventurous and as pretty as autumn heather. He’d earn respect for having caught her attention but the gossip would be cruel: what was she doing with an old failure like Domnall?

  “Hadn’t thought about that,” he muttered.

  “It’s not . . .” She took a deep breath and started again. “It’s not that I mind, really. But if we don’t appear to be a couple—”

  “Forget it.”

  “But it explains why she has the milk: if we say we were following her to find out where the babe was . . .”

  “ . . . and she fell asleep, and we got bored?”

  “ . . . and we took advantage of the time alone, never noticing that she woke up. It could work,” finished Micol.

  He pulled a face. “Listen, it’s not like I’ve got anything lined up for the Spring; I’ll not be missing out on romance. But you . . .”

  “I won’t,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “It’s fine, Domnall.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She took her sash off her shoulders and folded it neatly before handing it to Elspeth. Then she stepped forward and lightly draped her arms around Domnall’s neck. “Just dance.”

  His feet felt frozen to the ground. “I . . . you . . . I don’t suppose you brought your pipe, did you? Some music?”

  She stood stiff as an oak, looking over his shoulder. “No. And I can’t dance and play at the same time anyway.”

  He tried to sway a bit. The blood rushed to his head. He placed his hands on her shoulders and then moved them to her waist. He tried to ignore the pressure of her body against his as he swayed a bit more. The rain continued to fall, trickling down his face and dripping off his nose. He felt as clumsy as a newborn lamb.

  “This isn’t going to work,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He kept his eyes on the ground. “This has never happened to me before.”

  Micol shivered in her damp clothes and stepped back. He started to apologise again but she cut him off. “Listen, let’s try this differently. Sit down, I’ll dance for you.”

  He looked up at her with relief. “Would you?”

  “If you promise not to sing,” she said.

  He chuckled despite himself.

  Micol turned towards the tree. “Elspeth, if you feel the slightest tingle of magic, step forward, come between us.”

  Elspeth simply nodded, eyes wide.

  Domnall stepped back. The rain trickled through his hair and down his neck. A bit of moonlight, a warm spring breeze, would make it so much easier to get into the right mood.

  He gave up and plunked himself onto the muddy ground, ignoring the cold creeping through his jerkin. Micol stood where he had left her, her eyes closed. Her wet hair clung to her head, her dress streaked with rain. She swayed a bit, emulating the motion they’d tried together a moment before, and then slowly began her dance.

  She lifted her arms above her head as if to draw his eyes along the length of her, her soft face tilted up towards the sky, no longer mindful of the rain. The rain trailed its way down her body as she slowly turned, allowing him to take in every angle of her lean, lithe figure. The thistle-dyed fabric clung to her skin, caressing her curves. She raised her hands above her head and then brought them down, slowly, holding them outstretched and twisting her hips and torso, as if her body were somehow separate from her limbs, as if to focus his attention on every part of her at once. Domnall swallowed hard.

  She turned and bent her knee, lifting it towards her chest and then straightening the leg and slowly bringing it down. Perfection. Her wet hair whirled around her face, framing the look of concentration as she spun around and around. Her eyes were open and staring at him, an invitation.

  He stood and stepped towards her, picked her up by the waist and held her high, now spinning himself. She twisted in his grasp and landed lightly in front of him, first moving back in towards his arms and then, as soon as he touched her fingers, whirling away until both their arms were outstretched at full length. He pulled her closer, brought her close so that her shoulders pressed against him and then spun her around again so that she faced him. She put her hands into his and pushed herself back again, but never quite out of reach. He moved towards her this time, rather than pulling her back to him, and held her to his chest.

  Elspeth’s voice came plaintively from behind them. “I can’t see how I’m supposed to get between you,” she said, and fainted into the mud.

  Domnall took a deep breath; he’d forgotten all about the human. Micol was already bent over her limp body, trying to drag it out of a puddle. “You were magnificent,” he said.

  “And she’s heavy. Could you help, please?”

  He shook himself and moved behind the human to try to lift her. They both tugged and pulled, covering themselves with mud in the process.

  Domnall gave up first. “We can’t carry her.”

  Micol jerked at her arms again and gave Domnall an exasperated look.

  “I’m sorry, Micol, but she weighs as much as a boar and a half. Best we can do is drag her.”

  “Won’t that hurt her?”

  He scowled. “As opposed to leaving her lying in the rain all night? Just grab a shoulder, we’ll drag her closer to the Sithein and then go in and ask for help.”

  For once Micol didn’t argue. He wiped his hands over his clothes, rubbing the mud in as opposed to off, and then grabbed Elspeth by the left shoulder.

  “Get ready,” Micol said as she clutched the other shoulder. “One, two, three, heave!”

  He pulled. The human slipped out of his hands and landed sideways in the mud.

  “Domnall,” Micol said, her voice dripping with enforced patience.


  He glared at her, ignoring the rain driving into his face.

  He heaved again, fingers digging into the flesh of the human’s back and under her arm. Elpeth’s body lurched.

  He tugged again and the human moved towards him. A track lingered in the mud where her behind dragged. They found a rhythm, pulling her a foot at a time towards the Sithein.

  “Micol.” His breath came out in gasps. “I need to take a quick rest. This is killing me.”

  She dropped her half of the human into the mud. He did the same and then looked back towards where the Sithein should be, embarrassed.

  “Not far now,” Micol said.

  He didn’t feel encouraged, especially not by the fact that this slip of a fae seemed to feel she needed to encourage him.

  “I’m fine,” he muttered, refusing to look at her. “I just need to stretch my arms. Not used to this kind of exercise.”

  “I’ll go look ahead. I’ll be right back.”

  He sat down heavily on a clump of muddy grass. His arms felt like fire, his chest ached. The human was heavy enough on her own, but her sodden clothes must be adding another ten pounds. He considered stripping her down but they had enough explaining to do when they reached the Sithein without adding a naked human into the mix.

  Micol returned.

  “I don’t suppose you saw anyone who could help us carry,” he said, rubbing his arms.

  She shook her head, drops of water flying from her. “I didn’t walk all the way back but we need to get her closer, really.”

  Domnall forced himself up by thinking about Nighean, shivering away in the nursery, waiting for the breast milk this human had.

  “Then I guess there’s nothing for it . . . let’s—”

  A howl behind them cut him off. “By all that’s unholy, they aren’t back are they?”

  Micol stared into the shadows, her face pale.

  “She’s done for,” she said. “There’s no way we can drag her up a tree.”

  “Wait,” he whispered.

  She watched him until the suspense became too much to bear. “What?”

  “No answer,” he said. “No answering howl. It’s not a pack.”

  Laughter filled the air as Tam stepped out. “No, it’s not a pack, it’s only me. I saw Micol disappearing into the distance, so I followed her. I was very sneaky about it. She was so distracted she never even noticed.” He stared at the body. “What on earth are you two doing?”