The crowds of Faêran parted, creating a wide aisle in front of Angavar’s bride. To a flourish of trumpets, composed for the occasion, she walked down the long passageway. The length of this parade was unguessable, but in Faêrie anything was possible. It might have been twelve yards or twelve miles or twelve hundred miles long for all she could tell. Time passed in a twinkling and she felt neither hunger nor cold; indeed she was not sure what she felt; she might have been numb. Faêran lords and ladies smiled at her from either side as she passed. They were interspersed with wights of every description and every persuasion; the good, bad, ugly, the mischievous and the tricksy, the comely and the bizarre. Of them, Ashalind was scarcely aware. Near the end of the promenade her father waited, and Rhys, and Pryderi, and all the folk from Erith, but the beating of wings caught her eye and she descried again the looming chevron of darkness; midnight in corvine form. The disturbing seed within her burst into full-blown fright. She forced herself to move on.
Winter is a bride.
Her snowy landscapes, veiled in mist and glittering with frost-jewels, are the epitome of chaste loveliness. Ashalind’s wedding was at the heart of Winter, snow-covered and soaring, glittering with splendour, bright with light-splintered droplets. Effortlessly she walked on, until there, waiting for her, was Angavar, and all fear fled. His hair, glossy black as a raven’s wing, tumbled nearly to his waist; a cloud of soft darkness, a cascade of shadow. He was almost too beautiful to look at.
It seemed to Ashalind that he and she were alone together at Winter’s core, though she understood that all of Faêrie was watching. Ashalind was so struck by his presence that she thought herself in a fever; her heart so full it was on the point of exploding, pounding painfully, as if hammering to get out of her chest, her joy so terrible she hardly knew whether it was happiness or torment. The knowledge that she would soon be his wife was almost too intoxicating to withstand. He smiled at her and she thought she might melt through the snow.
But a storm of black plumage blustered in her ears, and, terrified that even now she might lose him she raised her face to her beloved and whispered, ‘He is here, Morragan-as-Raven.’
‘I know, caileagh faoileag,’ Angavar said softly, taking her hand and pressing it to his heart. ‘He can do no harm.’
He gestured, and she looked up to see the numinous coal-black bird watching from on high. ‘Nothing can sunder us,’ said Angavar. ‘I will marry thee.’ And as soon as she heard those words her fears finally left her forever.
The rings were forged in view of the guests as the wedding ceremony took place. A fire as red as rubies sprang in the snow; beside it, an anvil where Giovhnu the Faêran Mastersmith plied hammer and tongs. Rhys na Pendran diligently worked the bellows. While Ashalind and Angavar made their vows to one another, Lord Giovhnu melted precious metals and poured them into a mold, then cooled the rings in snow and inscribed them with certain mottos.
It was not Leodogran’s part to give his daughter away, for she was hers to give, not his. It was his part, however, and a part in which he rejoiced, to carry the newly-forged rings on a cushion of almond silk to the Lady Nimriel of the Lake, who offered them in turn to bride and groom.
Angavar pushed Ashalind’s ring onto her finger while uttering the last words of the vows, then she did likewise. He bent his head and fiercely kissed her mouth. Dizzy with euphoria, she was barely aware of a stupendous roar, as of thousands of birds in unison taking off from some vast stretch of marshland. When the lovers drew apart, Morragan-as-Raven was nowhere to be seen.
And that is how Ashalind married her true love.
Conch shells and golden trumpets and silver bells broadcast exultant fanfares. Rejoicing broke out over the entire Fair Realm, and the revelries began. Subsequently there could only be ecstasy, and surely it must have been endless, for how could the love and the vows of one such as the Faêran King fail to bestow immortality? Happiness so great can scarcely be imagined, let alone described.
It was set down in the annals of Erith that when the Gates of Faêrie were Closed for the second time they were never opened again. Some storytellers, however, added a fanciful twist.
And they were right.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The fairies … all set great store by golden hair in mortals. A golden-haired child was in far more danger of being stolen than a dark one. It was often a golden-haired girl who was allured away to be the fairy bride … sometimes, too, the fairies adopted girls of especial beauty, and above all golden-haired, as their special charges; and when they could not protect them they avenged their wrongs.
A DICTIONARY OF FAIRIES, KATHARINE BRIGGS
‘Ellum do grieve …’ The chorus of a traditional Somerset folk song collected by Ruth Tongue in Forgotten Folk Tales of the English Counties, Routledge & Kegan Paul, London, 1970.
‘I walk with the owl …’: Quoted from ‘The Life of Robin Goodfellow’, a seventeenth-century pamphlet republished by J. O. Halliwell-Phillips in Illustrations of the Fairy Mythology of the Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare Society, London, 1845.
Finoderee: ‘[I can] clear a daymath in an hour and want nothing better than a crockful of bithag afterwards.’
‘Cap for the head, alas poor head!’ etc …
‘… [He whisks] horseloads of stone and wrack about the countryside like a little giant …’
‘… [he folds in] wild goats, purrs and hares along with the sheep.’
The quotations above, and the inspiration for Finodoree’s tale, are from Walter Gill’s A Second Manx Scrapbook Arrowsmith, London, 1932; also from anecdotes told by Train in his Account of Man and quoted by Keightley in The Fairy Mythology, Illustrative of the Romance and Superstition of Various Countries, Bohn Library, London, 1850.
The poem ‘The Nimble Mower’ is translated from ‘Yn Folder Gastey’, a traditional song about Finoderee, or Fenodoree as he is sometimes known. The translation, by Walter Gill, is quoted from A Second Manx Scrapbook, Arrowsmith, London, 1932. This poem can be viewed on the Internet at http://www.dartthornton.com
The Burry Man: Inspired by an actual ceremony that takes place in South Queensferry, West Lothian in the United Kingdom, every year on the second Friday in August.
Beating the Bounds: Inspired by an ancient custom once an integral part of daily life in Britain, which still flourishes to this day at occasions such as the Sheriff’s Ride at Lichfield, Staffordshire, and at other places, including Berwick-upon-Tweed; Morpeth, Northumberland; Laugharne, Carmarthenshire, and Richmond, North Yorkshire.
The Pumpkin Scrambler: Also inspired by a colourful British custom that survives from olden times.
‘If Ye Call Me Imp or Elf …’: Adapted from Popular Rhymes of Scotland by Robert Chambers, W & R Chambers, Edinburgh, 1870.
The Shock: ‘… a thing with a donkey’s head and a smooth velvet hide …’
‘… seized lthe thing], it turned suddenly around, snapped at [his] hand and vanished.’
The quotes are from County Folk-Lore, Volume 1, Gloucestershire. E. S. Hartland (ed), 1892, Folklore Society County Publications. The episode of the Shock is inspired by this book.
Gentle Annie: Inspired by a description in A Dictionary of Fairies, Katharine Briggs. Penguin Books, 1976.
It: Inspired by Shetland Traditional Lore, Jessie Saxby, Norwood Editions, 1974.
Bawming the Thorn: No resemblance to the actual ritual as performed every year in the English village of Appleton Thorn is intended, other than the adorning of the tree.
Burning the Boatman: Inspired by ‘Burning Bartle’ (not intended to portray the custom as performed annually in West Witton, North Yorkshire, England). The chant, as given here, is derived from the ancient version, still sung during the performance of this living tradition:
‘At Penhill crags he tore his rags,
At Hunter’s Thorn he blew his horn,
At Capplebank Stee he had the misfortune to brak’ his knee,
At Grassgill Beck he brak’ his ne
ck,
At Wadham’s End he couldn’t fend,
At Grassgill End we’ll make his end,
Shout, boys, shout!’
The Hooden Horse: Inspired by the many hobby horse ceremonies and customs still practised in the United Kingdom.
The Bullbeggar: Inspired by County Folk Lore, Vol VIII, collected and published by Ruth Tongue.
The place names in Chapter 3: Drawn from the English countryside; for example, ‘By Kingsdale Beck we go,’ said Arrowsmith, ‘and past Churnmilk Hole. By Frostrow and Shaking Moss, and Hollybush Spout.’
The Wood-Goblins: Inspired by Christina Rosetti’s magnificent poem ‘The Goblin Market’, 1862.
The Coillduine: Inspired by the imagery of early twentieth-century clairvoyant Geoffrey Hodson, in Fairies at Work and Play, The Theosophical Publishing House, Wheaton, Ill., USA.
The Siofran Feast: ‘The spy was intrigued at their unglamoured feast; the horns of butterflies, the pith of rushes, emits’ eggs and the beards of mice, bloated earwigs and red-capped worms, mandrakes’ ears and stewed thigh of newt, washed down with pearls of dew cupped in magenta flowers.’ This menu is partially drawn from the poem ‘Oberon’s Feast’, written by Robert Herrick (1591–1674), published in 1647.
The Ganconer/Love-Talker: A wonderful poem about this deadly supernatural seducer was written by the well-known Irish poet Ethna Carbery (1866–1902). It has been reprinted in The Four Winds of Eirinn, an anthology of her verse, and can also be viewed on Ms Dart-Thornton’s website, at http://www.dartthornton.com
Viviana’s song: ‘All around my hat I will wear the green willow …’ etc is a traditional English folk song.
The Two Kings: Inspired by the traditional Welsh fairy-story about Pwyll, Prince of Dyved, and his encounter with the faêrie king, Arawn.
Nuckelavee: Based on an article by Traill Dennison in the ‘Scottish Antiquary’, which was reproduced in Scottish Fairy Tales and Folk Tales, Sir George Douglas, Walter Scott, London, 1873. For the sake of accuracy, the anecdote herein is partially quoted from this source.
The Tale of Thomas Rhymer, Duke of Ercildoune: Adapted from the traditional ‘Ballad of True Thomas’ which tells the story of Thomas Rymour of Erceldoune. It can be found in The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Child, F. J. (ed), Little, Brown; Shepard, Clark & Brown, Boston, 1857–8; definitive edition: 5 vols., The Folklore Press in association with the Pagent Book Co., New York, 1957. The ballad is based on a fourteenth-century romance which can be read in Fairy Tales, Legends and Romances Illustrating Shakespeare, by W. Carew Hazlitt, F & W Kerslake, London, 1875.
The Tale of Tamlain Conmor, Duke of Roxburgh: Adapted from another beautiful traditional ballad, ‘Young Tam Lin’, of which there are many versions. The fullest version is #39A in The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Child, F. J. (ed), Little, Brown; Shepard, Clark & Brown, Boston, 1857–8.
Scottish Vernacular: Learned from Bawdy Verse and Folk Songs Written & Collected by Robert Burns, Macmillan, London, 1982.
Battle Scenes: Researched in The Wars of the Crusades 1096–1291, Terence Wise, Osprey Publishing P/L, 1978. Information was also gleaned from the World War I diaries of Squadron Leader W. Palstra.
The Coronation Feast: Inspired by menus from actual medieval feasts, recounted in The English Medieval Feast, W. E. Mead, 1931; and More Medieval Byways, L. F. Salzman, 1926.
The musicians in the pie: Adapted from a document by Olivier de la Marche, fourteenth-century chronicler.
The Battle of Evernight: Also draws inspiration from the great fairy love story of Ireland, ‘Midhir and Etain’, which has prompted many poets and dramatists to produce works based thereon.
SOME WORDS FROM THE ELDER TONGUE
briagha: beautiful
caileagh faoileag: sea-gull damsel
cirean mi coileach: literally, ‘cockscomb, my rooster’. It means ‘cocksure boy’.
cochal: the husk or appearance of food, after the toradh has been removed
eudail: darling (ferm.)
fallaise: a beautiful, falling torrent
ionmhuinn: beloved
nathrach deirge: literally, ‘dragon’s blood’, is a draught to warm and nourish the traveller
rade: a processional cavalcade of Faêran riders
sabhailte: safe
seirm ceangaif: bind-ring
siofra: (pl.) small, human-like wights. Although they can be mischievous, they are harmless and not overly cunning. One of their favourite activities is to mimic human behaviour.
toradh: the nutritional value of food
uhta: the hour before sunrise
‘Il Bacio’ (‘The Kiss’) by Francesco Hayez, 1859
Some Ertish Words and Phrases
alainn capall dubh: beautiful black horse
Amharcaim!: Look there!
chehrna: dear damsel
clahmor: terrible, tragic.
cova donni: blind shotman
daruhshie: self-destructive fool
doch: damned
hreorig: ruinous
inna shai tithen elion: we have lived the days
lorraly: in the natural order
manscatha: wicked ravager
mo: my
mo gaidair: my friend
mo reigh: my pretty
mor scathach: an unseelie rider that sticks to the shoulders of its prey, becoming as heavy as stone, and rides the life out of it
obban tesh: an expletive
oghi ban Callanan: Callanan’s eyes
pishogue: glamour; a spell of illusion
samrin: milksop
Sciobtha!: Hasten!
scothy: mad, crazy
sgorrama: stupid (noun or adjective)
shera sethge: poor, unfortunate
skeerda: bad/devious person
Ta ocras orm! Tu faighim moran bia!: I am hungry! I need a lot of food!
tambalai: beloved
tien eun: little one
uhta: the hour before sunrise
uraguhne: despicable scum
A Short Pronunciation Guide
Baobansith: baavan thee
Buggane: bug airn
Cuachag: cooachack
Each Uisge: ech-ooshkya
Fuath: foo-a
Gwragedd Annwn: gwrageth anoon
Glossary of Terms
andalum: a dull, blue metal which has the power to neutralise sildron’s repulsion of the ground
candlebutter: gold
culicidae: (plural) deadly, mosquito-like creatures—they are not eldritch
dominite: black stone, laced with points of talium trihexide—used for building, as it blocks out the effects of shang storms
eldritch: supernatural
eotaurs: winged, horned skyhorses bred for their ability to ‘ride sky’ when accoutred with sildron eringl: a red-leafed tree growing only in Avlantia
gilf: a person who deliberately goes bareheaded in a shang storm, or is forced to do so, in order to imprint an image
glissanding: gliding through forests in a sildron harness, using branches and/or ropes as a means of propulsion
gramarye: magic
hattocking: the process of an eotaur over uneven ground
onhebbing: raising and lowering anything sildron-borne by means of sliding andalum by varying degrees between the sildron and the ground
seelie: benevolent towards humankind
shang: a random wind of gramarye which leaves imprints of human passions
sildron: a lustrous, silver metal with the intrinsic property of repelling the ground at a constant distance. Also known as King’s Biscuit, Rusty Jack’s friend, sinker, cloudpaver, moonrafter, frostbite, The Gentry’s Farewell, Moonbeam etc.
taltry: a hood lined with talium metal mesh to protect the wearer from the influence of the shang
tilhal: an amulet which may protect against unseelie wights of the lower orders
unket: supernatural
unseelie: malevolent towards humankind
unstorm: a
nickname for shang winds—also known as ‘uncombers’
Runes
A: atka, the thorn, the spindle, the arrowhead
B: brod, the loaf
C: ciedré, the moon
D: déanor, the bow
E: enen, the fork
F: faêrwyrd, the key
G: speal, the scythe or sickle
H: droichead, the bridge
I: idrel, the sword
J: crúca, the hook
K: kinoré, the dancer
L: clúid, the corner (the turning point)
M: margran, the mountain
N: nenté, the stitch
O: orinel, the ring
P: meirge, the flag, the pennant, banner
Q: sciath, the shield
R: sirrig, the sail
S: slégorn, the dragon
T: tiendir, the tree
U: uldris, the cup
V: vahlé, the valley or the furrow
W: wirroril, the wave or the water
X: glas, the crossroads or the lock
Y: draíochta, the dowsing rod
Z: geata, the gate
Wight Lore
The high-tide mark is the boundary between the territories of land wights and sea wights.
Although they can prevaricate and trick, wights cannot lie. By the same token, if you make a promise or give your word to a wight you are bound by gramarye to keep it.
Household wights, best exemplified by bruneys (brownies), do not necessarily react adversely to the touch of cold iron. All others do.
Trooping wights wear green coats and red caps, while Solitaries wear red coats.
To steal a swanmaiden, take her cloak of feathers so that she cannot fly. To abduct a mermaid or merrow, take her comb. To kidnap a silkie (selkie), take his or her seal-skin, without which these wights cannot travel underwater. Be aware, it is unkind to do any of these things!
Silkies will not harm you unless you harm them. If you do them a good turn they will return it to you.
The Bitterbynde Trilogy Page 156
