Fabledom of Fae-wrought Stone, Part 2,

by J. W. Cassandra

"Fabledom of Fae-wrought Stone", Part 2: A story emerging from the mists of time, straight from Bluebell Pixie's Enchanting Bag. The second part now unfolds, for a grand lore deserves time to breathe and blossom.

The Creator Fae and the Fae-folk

This chronicle tells of the Creator Fae, who descended to Earth in the days of yore to create. During their stay, the Fae-folk came to light—those originally born as men who earned ancient knowledge and glamour. Though they possess magic, they remain distinct from the eternal lineages of the Creator Fae.

The mysterious dancing ring or roundelay

I originally rendered the dancing circle of the Fae or the Fae-circle in English with the word roundelay, which also means rondo. I also added the term dancing ring, because I feel that the word ring is appropriate for these glamorous fairy tale characters.

Behind the Scenes: the Fae-lay and the Fae-tongue

Translating the first Fae-lay was a true challenge. My aim was to preserve the powerful, four-beat rhythm of Hungarian folk poetry. I achieved this through trochaic tetrameter, where stressed and unstressed syllables dance in a primal pulse. To capture the archaic soul of the story, I chose the word lay for the song and Fae-tongue for their ancient speech.

In the Second Part: True-hearted Mick recalls the tales of the old, withered grandame: lore of the Fae-wrought stones and the ancient War between Men and Fae. How does the fate of a simple lad intertwine with these celestial creators? What secret does the well hold?

Step into the legend and discover the power of the Fae-wrought stone!

[It was to such a land that the Fae descended.]

They built their Fae dwellings along bubbling springs, by the side of rivers and lakes, within the rocks, in forest nooks and in moonlit glades, along the fluttering flight of butterflies, and they were everywhere. But envy, in the guise of men, found them at every turn. Men pillaged the Fae dwellings by the springs, poisoned the waters of the springs, streams, and lakes; they bounced in the moonlit glades to disrupt the Fae dancing roundelay, and they pried into the fluttering paths of butterflies. They withered the flowers – until only clods of earth, desolate wildernesses, parching winds showed where envy ravaged Earth.

One fine day, the fairies wearied of this ravage and bewitched their Fae-wrought stones. They scattered the massive, trunk-like stones all over the earth—hewn blocks that resembled especially the rugged bark of trees. Their tops gleamed with a luminous white glow, while their sides and feet were veiled in slippery, dark green moss. Beneath the moss, inscribed in the Fae-glyphs, lay a song or lay in Fae-language that itself charmed as mighty as the Fae themselves. Moreover, the Fae can hear such a song anywhere, at any time; whenever it resounds, they appear in a trice. And so it was in the days of yore, when men thrived on the seeds of envy and wickedness.

Wherever the lay resounded from the enchanting stone of the Fae, the Fae would always restore all that men had laid to waste. But it happened—as the withered grandame had told, the stout-hearted lad now remembered, —that men sought out every enchanted Fae-stone at once. They drenched the white tops with a vile draught of malice, brewed from toad's tails, bitter seeds, and powdered fireflies, and heaven knows what else besides. Everywhere, the luminous tops of the enchanting Fae-stones turned to soot, and the braided ornament of the script grew faint and fractured. Bits and pieces of the enchanting power were lost from the lay of the Fae far and wide, and evil wormed its way into the song. This wicked melody drifted through the air in discordant notes, coalescing into a single, pitch-black cloud that veiled the entire world. The Fae appeared in a trice. Some laboured to lighten the dark cloud, others to mend the lay, and the fractured braided glyphs of the Fae. Still others were intent on undoing the malice of the vile draught and dispelling its blight, while the rest of the Fae hunted men back to their own lands.

From that moment began the War between Men and the Fae, which thereafter claimed countless victims, both wicked and innocent. The chronicles all bear witness that one of the most fabled deeds of this warfare of the Fae was when they poisoned the waters of springs, brooks, rivers, and lakes across the worlds, sealing away the pure springs from mankind. Should a spring still burst forth, only poisoned water welled up from it—whoever drank from it took the shape he or she truly deserved. Thus arose the distorted, terrifying apparitions that haunted mankind. Thus, too, came to life those animals that once lived as men: such as rabbits, voles, and creeping creatures, but also wolves, bears, and birds of the air. Upon these exchanged beasts—these shape-shifters—lay the stigma of the enchantment that had turned them into what the poisoned water made of them according to their own merits.

Later, the Fae chose among men those who had mended their ways, setting them apart from those who had turned to evil, and bestowed upon them as much of their knowledge as they deemed fit. These people became the Fae-folk, who are not to be confused with the Fae-kin or with these Creator Fae who had descended to the Earth in days of yore. While the ancient lineages of the Fae were all true ethereal beings, the Fae-folk were originally men.

For these new, human Fae-folk, the Fae enchanted new Fae-wrought stones upon Earth, which endure to this very day. If someone rubs off the moss and calls forth the enchanting melody of the Fae, they appear even now, as the lay takes flight. And whosoever sits upon the stone, his wish is granted—or his life is transformed. For it depends solely upon the glamour of the Fae whether good or ill fortune befalls him! Thus did True-hearted Mick recall now the lay of the old, withered grandame.

As soon as this flashed across his mind, he realised that the dancing ring of Fae-folk was awaiting him. He sprang up from the Fae-wrought stone; the roundelay of the dancing Fae opened before him, and he found himself in the very heart of their ring. The dance went on, with the Fae-lay weaving its enchanting melodies around the woodman lad, and in the middle of the ever-faster spinning ring, a sudden giddiness seized him. So dizzy did he become that he reeled with eyes shut, only to awaken a moment later, finding himself seated upon the enchanting stone once more, with the Fae standing all about him. Yet something must have transpired while he reeled with eyes shut, for now he understood the Fae-tongue and the Fae-lay alike:

"Script engraved on Fae-wrought stone,
By the Fae-folk, long ago.
Whoso reaches this stone, magic,
Rich the ore his hand shall fill!

Stone of Fae brings fortune fair –
Stone of Fae brings dark despair:
Would you know what fate shall be?
Sit upon a stone, mossy!

Rub the moss but clear halfway,
There appear glyphs of Fae!
Lays of yore begin to wake,
Fae-lays rise for magic's sake!

Chronicles of days of yore,
Guised as lays, they fly and soar,
Mirrors of a magic past,
Secrets in a well held fast.

If you to the well descend,
Fae-tongued lays you'll comprehend;
Singing lays of days of old,
For a Fae you are, behold!

Rub the stone of magic might,
Sit and call the Fae to sight!
Fingers beckon, lay you know:
For you came the days of yore!

Chronicle of days of yore,
For the fortune, a mirror;
Lays that fly in magic's guise:
Prophet you are, of magic might!"

True-hearted Mick, as if in a dream, rubbed the Fae-wrought stone once more, and the braided glyphs wreathed around him, accompanied by the laughter of the Fae. When their laughter subsided, they told him what he should do:

"Hearken, you poor lad! Now the Fae-charm envelops your very being, because you have stood in the heart of the dancing ring of the Fae willingly. That this is so, you may know for yourself as you now understand the tongue and the lay of the Fae!"

"Then the old withered grandame of the village told the truth in her tales!" True-hearted Mick slapped his forehead. "Only the Fae-folk —those who turned from men into Fae—could comprehend the words of the Fae of days of yore!"

"The Fae of days of yore are all around you! Look upon us well: we are the same even now, for you men do not only live for such a length of time! Thus, we must renew the ancient Fae-folk from age to age. To become a worthy member, and going even further, you must do the following!"

"Lift this enchanted stone, carry it to the well where the orphan girl, your betrothed-to-be, used to draw water. Cast this stone into that well, and then leap after it!"

"And if I do not?" The lad asked.

"Then you summon a great woe upon your own head, and upon the orphan girl's, and even upon your ailing mother!" The second fairy warned him grim.

"For if you do not so, the Fae enchantment hidden within the stones because of the people of days of yore will not cease. Since you have sat on it and entered the Fae-folk by choosing the dancing ring of the Fae, you shall bring fatal misfortune upon the heads of all those who love you! And upon yourself, as well!" The third Fae added.

"And if I do, what shall come to pass?"

"The magic of the Fae hidden within the enchanted stone shall then cease, and those who have been bound will be released, and those who have not been bound will be bound. Thus, all the Fae-wrought stones scattered upon Earth shall become the helpers of the Fae-folk here, and the Realm of the Fae may finally be restored—for the seeds of envy and wickedness have already been swept from the Earth by the magical wind."

"Only the beguiling enchantment of the Fae-wrought stones can summon such evil back again, to destroy the Realm of the Fae and thus bring ruin upon men, as well. If you had the order of the Fae-enchantment and Fae-glamour rule the Realm of the Fae, you must leap into that well the very moment you have cast this enchanted stone into its depths!"

The stout-hearted lad half-believed, half-doubted what he heard, but at last he was convinced that he understood the Fae-tongue, and the lay of the enchanted stone still floated around him.

"I do not care, I shall do as you ask!" He said, after puzzling for a while. With that, he set about heaving the enchanted stone from the earth, where seemed to have taken root in the ground. He strained against it, pushing, pulling, and turning—or so he would have, had the stone allowed it! Then, all of a sudden, he realised all the Fae had vanished. He was left alone, and in the twinkling of an eye, the dense, dark green moss had overrun the braided glyphs of the Fae once more.

The lad began to rub it down, and as soon as he finally succeeded, the Fae-lay poured forth from the writing reminiscent of a braid, and the stone began to rise. At first, True-hearted Mick stared agape, then snatched up his axe, tucked it into his belt, and clung to the slowly ascending enchanted stone. And it softened into his palm, lifting him high, as well, and drifted toward the well, in a slow, sweeping arc. There it set the lad down—who heaven knows from where—found the strength to lift the stone; or perhaps the Fae had charmed the enchanted stone to be light as air. Be that as it may, the lad cast the stone into the well and then leapt after it. He closed his eyes, seeing now the face of his secret betrothed, now the face of his mother. He believed in his soul he would never see them again, or anyone else, for his life was at an end!

(To be continued soon.)

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