Mia woke up with her body spooned up against Arine's, the blonde's left arm was draped over her and her right arm Mia was currently using for a pillow. She felt the reporter's breath on the nape of her neck, and smiled. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the brunette breathed deeply of the morning air. She silently slipped out of Arine's arms and grabbed a comforter out of the closet to drape over her lover's naked form. She then grabbed a nightgown for herself and left the room. Going into the kitchen, she grabbed a broom and dust pan. She then went into the living room and opened the front door. On the porch were two piles of salt. The larger one consisted of individual grains of salt that someone, or something, had counted throughout the night. The much smaller pile consisted of salt that had yet to be sifted. Mia swept up the two piles into her dustpan, and proceeded to return to her kitchen where she threw it away. She then grabbed a fresh cup of salt, returned to the front porch, and poured it out. Returning once again to the kitchen, she began to fix tea, setting up a tray with a cup and four thimbles as she did so. When the kettle finally whistled, she heard a stirring coming from her library. She smiled as she set the tea pot on the tray and headed for the room, the door opening on its own for her. Meanwhile, something else began to stir at the sound of the tea kettle. Arine woke up to find herself alone on the bed. She was normally not a morning person, but curiosity as to where Mia had gone off to had the best of her. She got up and dressed, then headed out into the living room. She was about to check the kitchen, when she heard noises coming from a side room. She went over and listened. "Na, na." an old woman's voice said, "In the days of the Tuatha d'e Danann, I heard tale o' one of ye who ha' a second love. Tis not therefore unheard of." "Aye." a second voice, this time a young man's, added, "True enough it is that the clutharach'an folk usually only ever ‘ave but one suitor, and that fer a lifetime. But if both ye stones and the sight of ‘er tell ye she be yer true love..." "What be the lass' name then?" a third voice, this time a young woman's, asked. "Arine." She heard the familiar voice of Mia say, "Arine Lloyd." "Lloyd?" the older voice asked, "Ye don' mean ye've fallen fer an English..." "Her ancestors came from England, yes." Mia said, adding, "But she's off limits, you hear me ‘Athas? None of your mischief now." Arine's interest was now stoked. She opened a door a crack to take a peak inside the room, and felt her breath catch in her throat. Fairies! Mia was sitting in a chair in what looked like a medieval library having tea with three fairies and a squirrel. The fairies looked to be no more than nine inches tall, with great butterfly-like wings spread out behind them. There was a young male with shoulder length black hair, a youthful looking female with golden locks that fell freely down her back, and an older female one who has grayish-white hair and appeared to be in late middle age. The three wore clothes made from leaves and knitted grass. As Mia daintily drank from her tea cup, the three fairies and the squirrel drank their tea from thimbles. Also in the room were Althor who was sitting on a perch, and Mia's cat who was curled up on the brunette's lap. "So when do we get to meet the lass?" the male fairy asked. "Well," Mia explained, "I... I haven't exactly gotten around yet to explaining about any of this." "What?" the younger female fairy asked as she tilted her head to the side, "Ye mean ye haven't told th' lass yet? Arine's heart began to race. Suddenly everything, the pointy ears and the fairy tale-like quality of the house, took on a new significance. Fear began to grip her at what she was seeing, and she began to back away from the door when the cat suddenly noticed her. The owl Althor likewise picked up on her presence and glared in her direction. She gasped in fright as the door seemed to open suddenly on its own and her eyes met those of Mia's. "Arine." Mia said as she silently cursed herself for not being quieter. Behind her the elder fairy narrowed her eyes as she studied her. "So this is her, tis it?" she asked. After another second or two, her expression changed, "Yer right, she does have a lovely aura. But I fear she's a wee bit scared at the moment." "Grandma!" the younger female fairy chided, "The way you stared at her I shouldn't blame her for being afraid." "Arine." Mia said as soothingly as possible, "Please calm down, I..." The blonde took a step back and tripped over something on the floor. She fell hard on her rear, wincing even as she pushed herself away from the young woman who was coming towards her. "Arine!" Mia cried. "Is she hurt?" the male fairy asked out of concern. The squirrel who was having tea with the group scurried behind the elder fairy as it watched the proceedings. "Arine, are you alright love?" Mia asked as she started to come forward again. "Stay away!" the blonde finally shrieked as she found her voice. Her heart felt like it was ready to leap out of her chest as she scurried to her feet as quickly as she could. "W... What... Are you?" she asked, trying to keep a safe distance from the brunette. Mia's face fell as she noted the tone in Arine's voice, "I'm a clutharach'an," she said as she took a step forward "An elf. And these are daoine sidhe, faeries. Arine," she said as she held out a hand, "Please don't be afraid. You're in no danger, and..." the author's voice dropped as she sadly watched the blonde take another step back. "Elves?" Arine stammered out, "Fairies? I..." she stopped when she saw the woman before her suddenly bow her head, her gaze sadly falling to the floor. As a single tear worked its way down her right cheek, the beautiful young female fairy with the golden hair flew over and gently stroked her shoulder in an effort to comfort her. "Nay, Mia." she said in a soothing tone, "Don' cry now, t'will be alright." Mia shook her head sorrowfully, "Please," the elf said, feeling her chest tighten, "Please don't hate me, or be afraid of me. I... I didn't try to deceive you, and everything I shared with you was the truth." Arine slowly began to calm down. While part of her still wanted to run away, another part of her was also affected by what she was seeing. She'd never seen the sprightly brunette in front of her in anything but a happy mood, and while she was still unnerved, the sight of the sweet and gentle brunette looking so sad and heartbroken somehow touched something deep inside her. For her part, Mia felt like she was dying inside. Her chosen was afraid of her, afraid of who and what she was. When an elf falls in love, they bond for life and normally only ever have one partnership in their lives. Mia was bound once before, also to a human female. She'd passed away back in 1923 and, given the fact that the brunet had been alone for so long, it was hardly surprising that it took three rune castings to convince her that she was to fall in love again. And now, the woman she loved didn't love her. For the object of an elf's love and affection to not return that love was unthinkable, and Mia began to sob. The elder fairy and the male likewise flew over to whisper words of comfort (and the elder to murmur under her breath about how she'd fix the Brit hussy for making Mia cry). As the brunette continued to weep she felt the fairies pull back. A few seconds later, a pair of arms pulled her into a hug. Arine held the brunette tightly to her and began to stroke her fingers through her brown hair as Mia buried her face in her shoulder. As she held the elf, the fear that had previously gripped her upon seeing the bizarre tea party was replaced by a far different emotion, and she realized that she cared far more for the author than she'd been ready to admit yesterday. She also realized that, somehow, being the cause of Mia's unhappiness made her feel dirty inside. Mia shuddered as Arine held her, and the blonde could feel her blouse growing wet with her tears. She wasn't sure how long they stayed there in each others' arms holding one another, but eventually as Arine continued to stroke her fingers through Mia's chestnut brown hair the elf stopped crying. "Shhh..." Arine said gently as she began to stroke behind one of Mia's ears, "Please don't cry, please. I... I'm sorry I hurt you." Mia looked at Arine, a faint glimmer of a smile once again showing itself on her sweet face. The blonde wiped a tear away with her index finger as she kissed her tenderly on the cheek. "I'm sorry," Arine continued, "It's just... I... This is a lot to take in. And it may take me a while to get used to dating an elf who entertains fairies." she said, smirking a bit at how ridiculous her own sentence sounded. Mia smiled joyfully as she nodded her head, "I... I understand." she said as she wiped her eyes with her hand, adding, "Is... Is there anything I can do to help make it easier for you?" she asked. Arine looked over to the faces of the fairies watching her and Mia, and smiled, "Yes." she answered, "You can introduce me to your friends." ------ Donovan O'Brian was slowly beginning to hate New York City. The people were rude, the noise was ever-present, and most of it smelled bad. To top matters off, he had started out in the morning intending to find Beagle Street, home of the publishing headquarters of Astounding Fantasy, and was now hopelessly lost. As he stood on a street corner leaning on his stick and trying to figure out where he was, a young man cautiously approached him. "Hey." the kid said, "Hey pops." Donovan raised an eyebrow at that, "Eh?" he asked. "You look lost pops." the youth said as he pulled out a switchblade knife, "Get into the alley back here, and me and my homies'll help you out." The Irishman looked at him silently for a few seconds. The kid was serious; he could see it in his eyes. It had been awhile since Donovan had done any real fighting, years in fact. Memories of his youth in the IRA suddenly came flooding back. He hadn't killed anyone in a long time. Still, he was about to go up against elves. He needed some sparring practice, and if this young idiot in front of him was willing to oblige... "Very well." he said as he walked ahead of the young man, the point of the knife poking him in the back. In the alley were the kid's four accomplices, two with their own knives, one with a small '38 caliber, and another swinging a chain. The one with the gun spoke up. "Okay grandpa. Give us all your money or else." Donovan slowly straightened up to his rather imposing full height, "P'og ma thoin (kiss my ass)." he said as he narrowed his eyes. As the others looked at one another with questioning looks over what Donovan just said, the member of the gang swinging the chain smiled when he noticed the walking stick O'Brian was holding, "Nice cane grandpa." Donovan smiled, "It's not a cane," he said as he removed his hand from the top of it to reveal a large knob at the top of it, "It's a shillelagh." With that, O'Brian suddenly crouched down into a side stance, holding his shillelagh in front of him with both hands at shoulder height and level to the ground. The gang looked at the man with the beard and glasses in front of then, and started to snicker. "Huh?" one of the kids in front of him holding a knife asked incredulously. "What the?" the one with the gun asked. The kid who initially brought him into the alley tried to rush him from behind, but Donovan whirled around quickly. He whipped the Irish war club outward with his wrist as he thrust his arm forward. The knobbed end of the stick struck him in the face, knocking two of the young man's teeth out and breaking his jaw. As the youth dropped the knife and brought both his hands painfully up to his face, O'Brian quickly spun around and lunged for the gang member with the gun. "Shit!" the gunman said just before Donovan used his shillelagh to both knock the gun out of his hand and shatter his wrist at the same time. From out of the corner of his eye he saw the chain-wielding gang member coming at him, and quickly turned to charge him. Ducking the chain, he swung forward with both hands around the shaft of the stick, breaking two ribs and cracking a third on the kid's right side. As he doubled over in pain, Donovan swung down, clubbing him in the back of the head and knocking him unconscious. The other two gang members with the knives quickly ran away as their compatriot with the chain fell to the concrete. As the sound of their retreat slowly drifted away, O'Brian turned back to the gang member with the shattered wrist. "Oh God, oh shit..." the young man started to cry, "Please, I..." "Where is Beagle Street?" Donovan demanded, "Tell me now or..." "T... Turn left at the end of the... The street corner you were standing on, and walk straight for th... Three blocks." The kid whimpered as he started to cry, "Sweet Jesus, please don't kill me." he begged. O'Brien narrowed his eyes as he glared at the youth. He turned away from him and picked up the '38 caliber. He then proceeded to open up the chamber and remove the bullets, tossing them at the youth who was painfully clutching his wrist as he then tossed the empty gun down the alley. Walking past the gang member with the broken jaw he exited the alley, holding his traditional Irish weapon like a cane once again and looking for all the world to see like a middle aged man leaning on a walking stick. ------ "When I left Ireland during the famine," Mia explained, "I brought a group of the sheagh sidhe, the fairy host, with me. The others are scattered around the property." "I see." Arine said, "So this place is sort of like a sanctuary for them?" "Aye." the male fairy said, "But don't think we left cause o' the famine. The Marcra sidhe (fairy cavalcade) was already long gone by that point. P'adraig (Patrick) began the process when he brought that foreign faith to Ireland's shore, driving out the druids and causing the destruction of our sacred sites and us as well." "I see, I... Wait a second," Arine said, "Mia, you personally came over during the famine? How old are you?" "Humph." the elder fairy said, "Tis impolite to ask another's age, ye know." " It's okay 'Athas." Mia said, "Let's see... I was born in the Fall Equinox of 1797, which means this year I'll be turning two-hundred and nine years old." "Ye look good fer yer age." The fairy with the golden locks said. Arine turned to look at the older fairy who was currently petting the squirrel under its chin. The elder noticed her, and frowned. "Is... Is something wrong?" the blonde asked. The fairy snorted, "Aye, there be somet'in wrong." she said, "Ye look like a nice lass, but ye made Mia cry." Arine took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly to try and meet the fairy at eye level, "You're right." she said, "I did make her cry, and I... I feel awful about it." she admitted, "What would you suggest I do to make it up to her?" The fairy looked a bit surprised at such a response. She turned to glance at Mia, then at her fellow fairies before finally returning her gaze to the blonde before her. "And why would ye be asking me that now?" she asked suspiciously. "Well," Arine answered, "I admit I'm a bit out of my element, but I've been around my grandparents out in the Midwest long enough to have learned that with age comes wisdom. You've been with Mia far longer than I have, so I'm asking you what I should do." The elder fairy looked at the reporter silently for a few seconds before she broke out in a wide grin. "Wisdom with age, ay?" she chuckled, "Ye may have an English last name, but methinks ye have an Irishman or two in yer background to be coming up wit' a blarney response like that! Mia." she said as she turned to the elf, "Bring in a cup fer the wee lass, and be making some more tea." ---To Be Continued--- End Notes: The shillelagh (or bata) was developed in Ireland during the seventeenth century when the Irish were banned from owning any sort of formal weapons. Several Irish martial art styles developed for the use of the shillelagh, and the one Dennis O'Brian used is based on a style that developed in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries known as Rince an Bhata Uisce Bheatha (literally "Whisky stick dancing").
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