For many years now, the Faerie Folk have made themselves known on our cottage island. These wee creatures usually remain hidden, appearing only when they want to be seen. The little wooded isle has an abundance of portals, in many forms, which they use to travel from their realm to ours: sometimes the base of a tree (usually oak), sometimes a cleft in the rock. The Wee Folk, for the most part, seem to accept our presence and allow us to go about our business, but we know only a little about them. We have discovered, for example, that their quixotic, mischievous nature can make them rather tricksy. Gardening tools and the lids of cooking pots will be where they should be one hour, and go inexplicably missing the next. The refrigerator may be nearly empty on a Tuesday, and stocked with a staggering seven bottles of salad dressing on Wednesday. And tiny red- and white-spotted parasols, found scattered amongst the leaves where there were none the day before, are signs that the perverse Fae delight in a festive frolic through the woods of a rain-drenched night.
This week, a mysterious scroll, written in elegant hand on aged parchment, was discovered in the house, which is itself quite old. It seemed to have been left by a benefactor, wise in the ways of the Fae, looking out for our welfare. Here is what the message said:
’Twixt water and forest the ancient stones hide,
long since forgot within deep cedar shade;
a place of high rev’rence, once sacrifice made –
an altar, a portal where Faerie folk bide.
Old spirits sigh ’neath the leafy green bower;
they whisper of magick beyond human ken:
should Mortal pass through, a year becomes ten –
and all youth is gone in the count of an hour.
When human eyes light upon grey granite table,
take heed! For hungry Ones watch from the wood!
But gifts from the land must ye bring, fair and good,
to soften their hearts toward Men, if ye’re able.
Upon the high altar, the Fae to appease,
lay these humble off’rings, the spell to unbind;
these gifts must ye proffer, these treasures to find;
in all there are seven – a number to please:
One gem of clear crystal for scrying and Sight;
two feathers, now pluck’d, from wings that flew free;
green cones of the pine, numberéd three;
four stems of wild thyme, a fragrant delight;
For five, bring blue berries, a sweet woodland feast;
six glassy grains from a wave-lapped sand beach;
and last, seven seeds of the wise oaken tree.
Hope the Fae favour your obsequious deeds!
The blessings of Faeries must you also ask,
your future determined by their fitful will.
Seek now, then, these gifts, a long quest to fulfill –
Good Fortune smile on you in your fateful task!
As it seemed prudent to maintain cordial relations with the Fae, we immediately took our gathering baskets to the woods and began foraging for the required gifts. We had some idea of the location of the “grey granite table” – the place on the lakeshore where fishermen past had always cleaned their catch – and, indeed, the signs were there that this was no ordinary set of stones!
With the utmost respect and reverence, we left our seven offerings, along with our own scroll, a carefully-worded beseechment for magickal favour, on the long-lost altar. A short while later, we received word that all was good: the blessing had been made, and the Faerie Quest fulfilled.