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Bedmates and Bodachs
Nov. 22nd, 2022 01:45 am[[Set in a time before his ascension to the throne, and longer still before his degenerative illness.]]
The sun shone through the half shuttered window of the inn, falling upon the side of his face. The light drew a low, long and lazy sigh from him as he turned away from the window to fling his arm across the partially covered breasts of his still slumbering companion. Oh how could the sun be up yet, he'd only just fallen asleep! The night surely couldn't be over when he was still so terribly tired, that'd just be unfair. He didn't open his eyes yet, not yet, opting instead to drink in the sensation of his lover's soft skin against his arm and feel the slow rise and fall of her chest beneath his fingers. A heavy sleeper, apparently. Lucky creature, he mused, his brows knitting together as he tried to ignore the growing awareness of the world outside the window. Carts rolling past, children in the streets, merchants calling out the days wares...
Grunting, he heaved himself upwards, pulling himself up and away from the olive-skinned vision laying peaceful and still on the bed. He dragged both hands through his long, ink colored hair to try and tease out any knots, wholly aware of the hilarious futility of even trying as the utterly unmanageable length of it only ever yielded to a brush. Even then he'd be lucky if he could get the mess tamed within an hour. Oh it would have been prudent to have properly braided it up the night prior but well... The man's pitch black gaze wandered back to his sleeping partner, a soft and somewhat rueful smile creeping across his face. Well, he'd been a bit distracted, hadn't he?
Softly, silently, he slipped off the bed, leaving the sheets and blankets to his partner as he set about quickly and clumsily braiding his hair, cursing softly as he searched the room for his things. A shirt tossed over here, boots hither and thither (how did it get under there), trousers and small clothes draped over a chair and tossed atop a table respectively. Belt, staff, broach and bag, rings all set and a hat for his head. Did he look a bit disheveled? Yes. Did he look like he'd been up to no good last night? Absolutely, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Had he not been in such a rush, he'd have spent a long and lazy morning dozing with his new friend in bed, leaving far later for a late breakfast... Very late breakfast, he'd note as he stepped out of the inn to peer at the cloudless sky. Just past midday by the looks of it. But, he'd places to be, as soon as possible so he'd been told, and he was not to waste much time with his usual dalliances. It wasn't a promise he'd made, so to speak, when he'd agreed to such terms. Careful was his wording when he said he'd do his utmost best to be as swift as I can manage.
Missing out on a lavish breakfast and fine company, look at the sacrifices I make for you, Basil. He fixed his hat, and headed down the road, flashing a brilliant smile towards a particularly keen eyed watchman who'd not looked away from him since he'd stepped out of the inn.
"A beautiful day, is it not, sir?" No response was forthcoming from the other man, who looked him up and down with a hint of skepticism before snorting. But not looking away, so it would seem. That was fair, he was a bit outlandishly dressed for the area. The conversation would be pressed no further, just a tip of the hat and a cheerful wink as he turned to head down the road. Naught but a few miles from here, perhaps half a days walk if he kept his pace quick, sat the forest. His destination, and within it the reason he'd had to forego his typical level of hedonism. The memory of the conversation still weighed heavily on him, sunk like a lead weight in the center of his mind, an apt enough comparison considering how it dragged at his mood so and forced him to labor to keep up the usual cheer.
He never remembered a time where his old friend looked so weathered, so tired, the impish light that usually danced in his eyes dim and faded.
"I can't do this for much longer, Óengus." That exhaustion lay heavy in his voice. "The weight of it all is becoming too much to bear, the longer I struggle beneath it, the more I fear I lose." Lose what, he'd not elaborated upon, though he, Óengus, could hazard a few guesses. Indeed though this 'weight' was only figurative, it almost seemed as if it were all too physical; the satyr's head hung low, the boughs and branches that comprised his kingly crown gray and rapidly shedding its bark. They seemed more like driftwood now, made all the paler next to limp chestnut ringlets and dark brown skin.
"You cannot abdicate and leave no one to bear the shard, Basil-" He'd started, only to have the satyr cut him off, his tone at once both drained and of sharpened iron,
"I will not. That's why I've come to you." For a moment, silence hung in the air, the young siren at a loss as to what to say.
A mighty rumble and crash shook him out of his thoughts, stopping short and jerking his head upwards in surprise. Had it just ended there, his curiosity wouldn't have been powerful enough to convince him to investigate, but quickly after the disturbance a shrill and terrified shriek cut the air. At once, the calm, quiet afternoon broke into instant chaos as a young girl suddenly hurled herself forward from a nearby barn, closely followed by a boy and three other children. It was difficult to discern just what precisely they were screaming, desperately trying to put as much space between themselves and the barn as possible, and as they darted past him he could make out at least one singular word: "Bodach!!" Away they ran, their shrieks and cries of terror intermingled with heinous cackles, hoots and wails from within the barn, the very boards that made up the structure rattling and shaking as the sound of shattering glass and clattering metal filled the air. Bodach... at this time of day? In this area? Oh he'd said he'd come as quickly as he could manage, he'd do his very best, but ignoring this was beyond his ability. He'd apologize to Basil for his lateness later, this needed attending to now.
As the children bolted towards town, he turned and headed for the barn, staff in his hand and a look of slowly growing irritation on his face. The almighty cacophony had yet to let up, a sign that while the creature therein knew it was not yet without an audience, it couldn't see who it was performing for. Dense creature, he could only think, reaching for the door and flinging it open.
In an instant, he was forced to react as a half finished bottle of ale flew straight at him, threatening to crack the young man right in the center of his handsome face. Surely, the bottle connected with something, just as surely as it shattered into jagged pieces, but there was no accompanying cry of pain nor spatter of blood across the ground. The staff clutched in his hand had split, wooden tendrils curling back and shrinking away to reveal shining steel beneath. The gnarled and knotted wood creaked and curved around to form a polished guard and pommel, and the newly formed sword had slammed into the flying bottle before it could make contact with himself. And just like that, all the hellish giggles and wails were cut short as the thick shadows in the furthest back of the barn suddenly and sharply shifted right, and then left, like a startled and confused animal. Trying to make heads or tails of what on earth it just played witness to.
"Yoooooouuuuuuuuu.... you... you..." It sounded sluggish and dim, two beady blue eyes cracking open inside the pitch black mire. "Yoooooooooooooooouuuuuu..... Sssssspoilsport. Bore! Killjoy! That... that wassss my last bottle." Drunk, it was drunk, of course it was drunk. Middle of the day and the dumb, loud, belligerent, lucky bastard was completely pickled. It'd explain why it had picked a barn, at noon, to play its pranks instead of the dead of night under some poor child's bed. He was envious, he'd admit that, he wanted to be halfway through a bottle right now himself, so yes there was a bit of bitter satisfaction knowing now neither of them was going to have a fun afternoon. He hefted the sword upwards, directing it towards the shadows.
"Then why did you throw it? That seems counterintuitive to drinking the rest of it, sir." The eyes squinted, and rotated slowly, until they sat one atop the other.
"Shhhhhh.... Shhhhut up. Don't assssk.... ssstupid questionssss. Where'sss the nibblingsss? Did they get you here? Far... far from the shore, you are, brine witch." So drunk, it was picking fights with strangers, then. The insult skipped over his ego like a stone over water, he scarcely felt a ghost of offense at it.
"That was uncalled for, much like your cruel waste of ale. The children I assume, went to go find someone to deal with the bodach in their barn." The eyes bobbled and rolled about like a pair of marbles in a jar, the shadows cackling and spitting.
"Good, good let 'em! Let 'em! I'll take anyone who comessss in here, my barn now! My barn! Mine mine mine, assss isss everything in it! All the way back to Tír na nÓg, child and man and beasssst and brine witch alike!" The shadow thumped and roiled, it's form boiling, seething and crawling over the boards of the barn as the bubbling blue eyes expanded from mere marbles to saucers. Maliciously mirthful and completely hammered, the young man, the brine witch, didn't doubt for a moment that the thing meant every word it said. After all, a fairy was a fairy, and lies were far beyond their ability. Made all the more blunt and forward by the alcohol it'd guzzled down no doubt. In spite of this though, he felt no real concern, even as the creature grew and grew before him, its formless shape seeming to devour the wall it sat upon.
"Do you promise?" The question forced the drunken fairy to pause, freezing where it was for a moment before it shrunk back just a touch, squinting again.
"What do you mean 'promisssse'?" It burbled, it's tone all of a sudden far less delighted, and far more confused... and suspicious. Heavily suspicious, actually. The siren shrugged, his once irritated expression breaking into an easy smile.
"What does it sound like? Do you promise? Now that I stop to think about it, I could use a trip to Tír na nÓg. The faster, the better, actually." The siren's sudden shift from confrontational to friendly had clearly set the shadow on edge, the way its eyes wrinkled up and squinted making to seem as if the quick change had given it a sudden, throbbing headache.
"What do you need to do in Tír na nÓg?" A land fit mostly just for the gentry and their closest consorts and children, merely more than a waypoint for anyone else. It would beggar the question what the hell a common bodach would need to do in the land of Faerie but that was a question that the siren opted to gently put to the side for now. Instead, he pressed a hand to his chest, turning his head away as if suddenly reserved.
"Oh, I'm not sure if I should tell you that.... It's a very sensitive situation, you see. Quite private, a very 'need to know' state of affairs..." With his voice lacking any conviction of course, the shadow bubbled forward, the eyes in the mire lighting up in almost childish glee.
"Tell me! Tell me! Tell me about it! I need to know!" The threatening tone had so quickly turned fascinated and conspiratorial, eager to hear what it could only assume was some truly juicy gossip. Though it took some effort, he managed to smother the grin that tried to force its way to the surface. It really was like playing a fiddle, once one knew another's nature well enough, and there was almost nothing a common fairy loved more than outrageous rumors and gossip.
Instead, he gestured towards the open barn doors with his free hand, shrugging helplessly.
"I fear it would take a long time to do so, and you've made it clear that all within this barn, man and child and beast and brine witch alike, will be borne away. My secret is so sensitive, sir, that I couldn't bear to have any others hear it, and if I were to stand here and explain it all to you now, well I'd surely have an audience of more than merely you before I was done. I'm afraid that unless I know you and only you alone will hear it, I cannot tell you anything at all." He was rushing this a bit, yes. And it was indeed due to the fact that they'd surely not be alone for long. The 'secret' as it were was secondary though, bodachs were not particularly powerful fairies, and a modestly armed militia of farmers would have little trouble 'fixing' their bodach problem before the sun had even begun to set. Annoyance though the creature might be, drunken fool though it was... a 'countryman' so to speak was a 'countryman' nevertheless.
Mercifully though, the shadow was so far into the bottle that it didn't bother to even try to think about anything going on right now. The eyes spun and the darkness contracted and expanded, letting loose a series of drunken titters.
"Issss that all? Issss that it? Don't want an audience? Ssssstrange requesssst for a brine witch. Just you and me then! I bear you to Tír na nÓg, and you tell me your ssssecret! Fair exchange!" With a grin, he moved before the creature could consider what it had just offered, stepping forward to offer that free hand. Quickly of course, as quick as he could manage.
"I'll trade a secret for safe passage to Faerie, an excellent deal, sir!" Already he could hear the sound of thumping feet in the distance, angry cries and the rattling of metal instruments. Swords, perhaps, though just as likely if not more so whatever the locals had managed to grab hold of. The smile turned a touch forced, desperate to flee before the mob arrived, and he thrust his hand forward into the shadows. For a moment he nearly thought to command the creature to shake itself out of whatever drunken stupor it had suddenly landed in, before he felt the cold mass wrap around his arm. His final thoughts before he was yanked into the murky abyss were pure and unrestrained relief, and he tumbled forward into black oblivion just as the first man burst through the open door.
Just in time to hear an alarmed cry and barely feel a hand brush across his back as the well meaning farmer tried to pull him back and away, only to fumble and fail. There was a brief moment of remorseful amusement, before all sound and sensation fell away entirely.
He'd never traveled by bodach before, and while the creature's word was as good as gold he had no real guarantee that the thing would drop him off where he needed to be in any decent amount of time. Quietly, he berated himself for not remembering to state the importance of expedience here as he drifted through the black nothing between realms. Seconds ticked on, turning to minutes, and he wondered if minutes would become hours, then days, then weeks... Ageless he might be but he'd been quite clear with Basil that he'd arrive quickly... As quick as he was able. This didn't break the oath he made if he found himself trapped but time was of the essence here. His fretting was broken however, by a sudden beam of sunlight breaking through the pitch black fog, landing across his face and striking his eyes. With a grunt, he flung his arm across his face, which turned out to be an excellent move as with little ceremony and no warning, he was suddenly spat out onto the ground below, colliding with grass as soft as down before rolling into a pile of cottony leaves. Through barely open eyes, he watched the lavender sky spin overhead, pillowy rose colored clouds drifting by in the golden light of Tír na nÓg.
Finally. He slowly sat upright with a groan, groping for his sword, now once more a staff. It took no time at all to find his ride here, as he found his lap suddenly occupied and the collar of his shirt grasped tightly by gray skinned, pudgy little fingers. No bigger than a toddler, the bodach appeared now not as a bubbling mass but as a shrunken, rotund little old man, wispy white hair like a ring of clouds around an old and weathered mountain. The smell of ale clung to it like a miasma, and its over bright blue eyes peered up at him with wild enthusiasm.
"Sssssecretsssss! You had 'em! Tell me the ssssecret!" He jerked his head back to avoid getting a noseful of the little boogyman's drunken breath, waving his hand a bit to waft it away before reaching to turn the bodach's head to the side. Leaning in to the giggling fairy's ear, he spoke softly and carefully;
"I slept with the mayor's daughter last night." The giggling paused, and the creature furrowed it's brow.
"... What'sss that got to do with going to Tír na nÓg?" The siren shifted, and the creature in his lap was forced to let go of him in order to keep its balance. Swiftly, he moved to grasp the little fairy under the arms, hefting the now squealing bodach into the air.
"Absolutely nothing, but you asked for a secret, not the secret." Oh he sounded so proud of himself, so smug, and as the bodach burst into angry squeals and curses he grinned from ear to ear, before standing and setting the enraged little fellow back down on the ground.
"Liar! Cheater! You promisssed-"
"A secret! I promised a secret, it's not my fault you didn't make sure I would tell you the right one."
"Killjoy! Sssourpuss! SSSPOILSSSPORT-"
"Had I left you there you'd have been torn to shreds by the farmers you know." The bodach hiccupped, then paused at this bit of knowledge, swaying a bit where it stood.
"... No I-" It didn't get far, as the siren interrupted sharply while he stooped to scoop up his hat.
"It is the middle of the day, in the middle of a crowded town, and you in the middle of a bottle of ale, no doubt not your first bottle of ale." He brushed the grass and leaves off his hat before setting it upon his head, the glamour coming off of him in waves as a pair of jet black, majestic wings shimmered into existence upon his back. "They have iron tools and fire, you have half a bottle of alcohol and a bad attitude. You tell me how that would have ended." He reached to scrub his eyes, one and then the other, onyx irises blossoming across the whites until it was all swallowed up, a single point of white blooming within their centers as he did so. The bodach warbled and burbled, before burping, any further argument tapering off into mumbles and inarticulate whining.
"... Was any of that a 'thank you sir'?" He pressed, and to his complete lack of surprise, the fairy before him shrank, starting to melt away into a tarry puddle on the ground before grumpily slithering away. "... That's what I thought." Bodachs... And now he stunk of ale, on top of looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. At least I'm arriving just as Basil'd expect. It'd still be half a day's walk to the palace proper, but he was here now. He looked towards the distance, barely spying the uppermost spires of the castle from where he stood, his expression falling to a thin, mirthless smile.
For the final day of freedom, I couldn't have asked for better, I suppose.
The sun shone through the half shuttered window of the inn, falling upon the side of his face. The light drew a low, long and lazy sigh from him as he turned away from the window to fling his arm across the partially covered breasts of his still slumbering companion. Oh how could the sun be up yet, he'd only just fallen asleep! The night surely couldn't be over when he was still so terribly tired, that'd just be unfair. He didn't open his eyes yet, not yet, opting instead to drink in the sensation of his lover's soft skin against his arm and feel the slow rise and fall of her chest beneath his fingers. A heavy sleeper, apparently. Lucky creature, he mused, his brows knitting together as he tried to ignore the growing awareness of the world outside the window. Carts rolling past, children in the streets, merchants calling out the days wares...
Grunting, he heaved himself upwards, pulling himself up and away from the olive-skinned vision laying peaceful and still on the bed. He dragged both hands through his long, ink colored hair to try and tease out any knots, wholly aware of the hilarious futility of even trying as the utterly unmanageable length of it only ever yielded to a brush. Even then he'd be lucky if he could get the mess tamed within an hour. Oh it would have been prudent to have properly braided it up the night prior but well... The man's pitch black gaze wandered back to his sleeping partner, a soft and somewhat rueful smile creeping across his face. Well, he'd been a bit distracted, hadn't he?
Softly, silently, he slipped off the bed, leaving the sheets and blankets to his partner as he set about quickly and clumsily braiding his hair, cursing softly as he searched the room for his things. A shirt tossed over here, boots hither and thither (how did it get under there), trousers and small clothes draped over a chair and tossed atop a table respectively. Belt, staff, broach and bag, rings all set and a hat for his head. Did he look a bit disheveled? Yes. Did he look like he'd been up to no good last night? Absolutely, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Had he not been in such a rush, he'd have spent a long and lazy morning dozing with his new friend in bed, leaving far later for a late breakfast... Very late breakfast, he'd note as he stepped out of the inn to peer at the cloudless sky. Just past midday by the looks of it. But, he'd places to be, as soon as possible so he'd been told, and he was not to waste much time with his usual dalliances. It wasn't a promise he'd made, so to speak, when he'd agreed to such terms. Careful was his wording when he said he'd do his utmost best to be as swift as I can manage.
Missing out on a lavish breakfast and fine company, look at the sacrifices I make for you, Basil. He fixed his hat, and headed down the road, flashing a brilliant smile towards a particularly keen eyed watchman who'd not looked away from him since he'd stepped out of the inn.
"A beautiful day, is it not, sir?" No response was forthcoming from the other man, who looked him up and down with a hint of skepticism before snorting. But not looking away, so it would seem. That was fair, he was a bit outlandishly dressed for the area. The conversation would be pressed no further, just a tip of the hat and a cheerful wink as he turned to head down the road. Naught but a few miles from here, perhaps half a days walk if he kept his pace quick, sat the forest. His destination, and within it the reason he'd had to forego his typical level of hedonism. The memory of the conversation still weighed heavily on him, sunk like a lead weight in the center of his mind, an apt enough comparison considering how it dragged at his mood so and forced him to labor to keep up the usual cheer.
He never remembered a time where his old friend looked so weathered, so tired, the impish light that usually danced in his eyes dim and faded.
"I can't do this for much longer, Óengus." That exhaustion lay heavy in his voice. "The weight of it all is becoming too much to bear, the longer I struggle beneath it, the more I fear I lose." Lose what, he'd not elaborated upon, though he, Óengus, could hazard a few guesses. Indeed though this 'weight' was only figurative, it almost seemed as if it were all too physical; the satyr's head hung low, the boughs and branches that comprised his kingly crown gray and rapidly shedding its bark. They seemed more like driftwood now, made all the paler next to limp chestnut ringlets and dark brown skin.
"You cannot abdicate and leave no one to bear the shard, Basil-" He'd started, only to have the satyr cut him off, his tone at once both drained and of sharpened iron,
"I will not. That's why I've come to you." For a moment, silence hung in the air, the young siren at a loss as to what to say.
A mighty rumble and crash shook him out of his thoughts, stopping short and jerking his head upwards in surprise. Had it just ended there, his curiosity wouldn't have been powerful enough to convince him to investigate, but quickly after the disturbance a shrill and terrified shriek cut the air. At once, the calm, quiet afternoon broke into instant chaos as a young girl suddenly hurled herself forward from a nearby barn, closely followed by a boy and three other children. It was difficult to discern just what precisely they were screaming, desperately trying to put as much space between themselves and the barn as possible, and as they darted past him he could make out at least one singular word: "Bodach!!" Away they ran, their shrieks and cries of terror intermingled with heinous cackles, hoots and wails from within the barn, the very boards that made up the structure rattling and shaking as the sound of shattering glass and clattering metal filled the air. Bodach... at this time of day? In this area? Oh he'd said he'd come as quickly as he could manage, he'd do his very best, but ignoring this was beyond his ability. He'd apologize to Basil for his lateness later, this needed attending to now.
As the children bolted towards town, he turned and headed for the barn, staff in his hand and a look of slowly growing irritation on his face. The almighty cacophony had yet to let up, a sign that while the creature therein knew it was not yet without an audience, it couldn't see who it was performing for. Dense creature, he could only think, reaching for the door and flinging it open.
In an instant, he was forced to react as a half finished bottle of ale flew straight at him, threatening to crack the young man right in the center of his handsome face. Surely, the bottle connected with something, just as surely as it shattered into jagged pieces, but there was no accompanying cry of pain nor spatter of blood across the ground. The staff clutched in his hand had split, wooden tendrils curling back and shrinking away to reveal shining steel beneath. The gnarled and knotted wood creaked and curved around to form a polished guard and pommel, and the newly formed sword had slammed into the flying bottle before it could make contact with himself. And just like that, all the hellish giggles and wails were cut short as the thick shadows in the furthest back of the barn suddenly and sharply shifted right, and then left, like a startled and confused animal. Trying to make heads or tails of what on earth it just played witness to.
"Yoooooouuuuuuuuu.... you... you..." It sounded sluggish and dim, two beady blue eyes cracking open inside the pitch black mire. "Yoooooooooooooooouuuuuu..... Sssssspoilsport. Bore! Killjoy! That... that wassss my last bottle." Drunk, it was drunk, of course it was drunk. Middle of the day and the dumb, loud, belligerent, lucky bastard was completely pickled. It'd explain why it had picked a barn, at noon, to play its pranks instead of the dead of night under some poor child's bed. He was envious, he'd admit that, he wanted to be halfway through a bottle right now himself, so yes there was a bit of bitter satisfaction knowing now neither of them was going to have a fun afternoon. He hefted the sword upwards, directing it towards the shadows.
"Then why did you throw it? That seems counterintuitive to drinking the rest of it, sir." The eyes squinted, and rotated slowly, until they sat one atop the other.
"Shhhhhh.... Shhhhut up. Don't assssk.... ssstupid questionssss. Where'sss the nibblingsss? Did they get you here? Far... far from the shore, you are, brine witch." So drunk, it was picking fights with strangers, then. The insult skipped over his ego like a stone over water, he scarcely felt a ghost of offense at it.
"That was uncalled for, much like your cruel waste of ale. The children I assume, went to go find someone to deal with the bodach in their barn." The eyes bobbled and rolled about like a pair of marbles in a jar, the shadows cackling and spitting.
"Good, good let 'em! Let 'em! I'll take anyone who comessss in here, my barn now! My barn! Mine mine mine, assss isss everything in it! All the way back to Tír na nÓg, child and man and beasssst and brine witch alike!" The shadow thumped and roiled, it's form boiling, seething and crawling over the boards of the barn as the bubbling blue eyes expanded from mere marbles to saucers. Maliciously mirthful and completely hammered, the young man, the brine witch, didn't doubt for a moment that the thing meant every word it said. After all, a fairy was a fairy, and lies were far beyond their ability. Made all the more blunt and forward by the alcohol it'd guzzled down no doubt. In spite of this though, he felt no real concern, even as the creature grew and grew before him, its formless shape seeming to devour the wall it sat upon.
"Do you promise?" The question forced the drunken fairy to pause, freezing where it was for a moment before it shrunk back just a touch, squinting again.
"What do you mean 'promisssse'?" It burbled, it's tone all of a sudden far less delighted, and far more confused... and suspicious. Heavily suspicious, actually. The siren shrugged, his once irritated expression breaking into an easy smile.
"What does it sound like? Do you promise? Now that I stop to think about it, I could use a trip to Tír na nÓg. The faster, the better, actually." The siren's sudden shift from confrontational to friendly had clearly set the shadow on edge, the way its eyes wrinkled up and squinted making to seem as if the quick change had given it a sudden, throbbing headache.
"What do you need to do in Tír na nÓg?" A land fit mostly just for the gentry and their closest consorts and children, merely more than a waypoint for anyone else. It would beggar the question what the hell a common bodach would need to do in the land of Faerie but that was a question that the siren opted to gently put to the side for now. Instead, he pressed a hand to his chest, turning his head away as if suddenly reserved.
"Oh, I'm not sure if I should tell you that.... It's a very sensitive situation, you see. Quite private, a very 'need to know' state of affairs..." With his voice lacking any conviction of course, the shadow bubbled forward, the eyes in the mire lighting up in almost childish glee.
"Tell me! Tell me! Tell me about it! I need to know!" The threatening tone had so quickly turned fascinated and conspiratorial, eager to hear what it could only assume was some truly juicy gossip. Though it took some effort, he managed to smother the grin that tried to force its way to the surface. It really was like playing a fiddle, once one knew another's nature well enough, and there was almost nothing a common fairy loved more than outrageous rumors and gossip.
Instead, he gestured towards the open barn doors with his free hand, shrugging helplessly.
"I fear it would take a long time to do so, and you've made it clear that all within this barn, man and child and beast and brine witch alike, will be borne away. My secret is so sensitive, sir, that I couldn't bear to have any others hear it, and if I were to stand here and explain it all to you now, well I'd surely have an audience of more than merely you before I was done. I'm afraid that unless I know you and only you alone will hear it, I cannot tell you anything at all." He was rushing this a bit, yes. And it was indeed due to the fact that they'd surely not be alone for long. The 'secret' as it were was secondary though, bodachs were not particularly powerful fairies, and a modestly armed militia of farmers would have little trouble 'fixing' their bodach problem before the sun had even begun to set. Annoyance though the creature might be, drunken fool though it was... a 'countryman' so to speak was a 'countryman' nevertheless.
Mercifully though, the shadow was so far into the bottle that it didn't bother to even try to think about anything going on right now. The eyes spun and the darkness contracted and expanded, letting loose a series of drunken titters.
"Issss that all? Issss that it? Don't want an audience? Ssssstrange requesssst for a brine witch. Just you and me then! I bear you to Tír na nÓg, and you tell me your ssssecret! Fair exchange!" With a grin, he moved before the creature could consider what it had just offered, stepping forward to offer that free hand. Quickly of course, as quick as he could manage.
"I'll trade a secret for safe passage to Faerie, an excellent deal, sir!" Already he could hear the sound of thumping feet in the distance, angry cries and the rattling of metal instruments. Swords, perhaps, though just as likely if not more so whatever the locals had managed to grab hold of. The smile turned a touch forced, desperate to flee before the mob arrived, and he thrust his hand forward into the shadows. For a moment he nearly thought to command the creature to shake itself out of whatever drunken stupor it had suddenly landed in, before he felt the cold mass wrap around his arm. His final thoughts before he was yanked into the murky abyss were pure and unrestrained relief, and he tumbled forward into black oblivion just as the first man burst through the open door.
Just in time to hear an alarmed cry and barely feel a hand brush across his back as the well meaning farmer tried to pull him back and away, only to fumble and fail. There was a brief moment of remorseful amusement, before all sound and sensation fell away entirely.
He'd never traveled by bodach before, and while the creature's word was as good as gold he had no real guarantee that the thing would drop him off where he needed to be in any decent amount of time. Quietly, he berated himself for not remembering to state the importance of expedience here as he drifted through the black nothing between realms. Seconds ticked on, turning to minutes, and he wondered if minutes would become hours, then days, then weeks... Ageless he might be but he'd been quite clear with Basil that he'd arrive quickly... As quick as he was able. This didn't break the oath he made if he found himself trapped but time was of the essence here. His fretting was broken however, by a sudden beam of sunlight breaking through the pitch black fog, landing across his face and striking his eyes. With a grunt, he flung his arm across his face, which turned out to be an excellent move as with little ceremony and no warning, he was suddenly spat out onto the ground below, colliding with grass as soft as down before rolling into a pile of cottony leaves. Through barely open eyes, he watched the lavender sky spin overhead, pillowy rose colored clouds drifting by in the golden light of Tír na nÓg.
Finally. He slowly sat upright with a groan, groping for his sword, now once more a staff. It took no time at all to find his ride here, as he found his lap suddenly occupied and the collar of his shirt grasped tightly by gray skinned, pudgy little fingers. No bigger than a toddler, the bodach appeared now not as a bubbling mass but as a shrunken, rotund little old man, wispy white hair like a ring of clouds around an old and weathered mountain. The smell of ale clung to it like a miasma, and its over bright blue eyes peered up at him with wild enthusiasm.
"Sssssecretsssss! You had 'em! Tell me the ssssecret!" He jerked his head back to avoid getting a noseful of the little boogyman's drunken breath, waving his hand a bit to waft it away before reaching to turn the bodach's head to the side. Leaning in to the giggling fairy's ear, he spoke softly and carefully;
"I slept with the mayor's daughter last night." The giggling paused, and the creature furrowed it's brow.
"... What'sss that got to do with going to Tír na nÓg?" The siren shifted, and the creature in his lap was forced to let go of him in order to keep its balance. Swiftly, he moved to grasp the little fairy under the arms, hefting the now squealing bodach into the air.
"Absolutely nothing, but you asked for a secret, not the secret." Oh he sounded so proud of himself, so smug, and as the bodach burst into angry squeals and curses he grinned from ear to ear, before standing and setting the enraged little fellow back down on the ground.
"Liar! Cheater! You promisssed-"
"A secret! I promised a secret, it's not my fault you didn't make sure I would tell you the right one."
"Killjoy! Sssourpuss! SSSPOILSSSPORT-"
"Had I left you there you'd have been torn to shreds by the farmers you know." The bodach hiccupped, then paused at this bit of knowledge, swaying a bit where it stood.
"... No I-" It didn't get far, as the siren interrupted sharply while he stooped to scoop up his hat.
"It is the middle of the day, in the middle of a crowded town, and you in the middle of a bottle of ale, no doubt not your first bottle of ale." He brushed the grass and leaves off his hat before setting it upon his head, the glamour coming off of him in waves as a pair of jet black, majestic wings shimmered into existence upon his back. "They have iron tools and fire, you have half a bottle of alcohol and a bad attitude. You tell me how that would have ended." He reached to scrub his eyes, one and then the other, onyx irises blossoming across the whites until it was all swallowed up, a single point of white blooming within their centers as he did so. The bodach warbled and burbled, before burping, any further argument tapering off into mumbles and inarticulate whining.
"... Was any of that a 'thank you sir'?" He pressed, and to his complete lack of surprise, the fairy before him shrank, starting to melt away into a tarry puddle on the ground before grumpily slithering away. "... That's what I thought." Bodachs... And now he stunk of ale, on top of looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. At least I'm arriving just as Basil'd expect. It'd still be half a day's walk to the palace proper, but he was here now. He looked towards the distance, barely spying the uppermost spires of the castle from where he stood, his expression falling to a thin, mirthless smile.
For the final day of freedom, I couldn't have asked for better, I suppose.
