The village green was bright with life in the night, villagers and fairy-lights interwoven in dance and song. The trees were filled with twinkling lights from the fairies cavorting within. Flowers covered all: tree, man, and field alike. Ambrosial scents arose from the surrounding tables, combined with the perfume of the flowers; the celebration was a feast for all scents. One could not help but lose oneself in the joy and laughter of life this night.
I ducked through under lifted arms, dodged kicking feet as my childish eyes sought Lenore. She was the mayor’s daughter, a gorgeous girl of sixteen. This girl had stolen my heart. Two fairy-lights froliced near my face, giggling and making fun at me, “seeking your lady-love tonight, boy? Dance with us instead!” I ignored their light tugs at my hair, nips at my face, making my way through the revelry.
A gap in the crowd showed me a cascade of petals showering down on a group of young women, laughing in delight at the fairies above. A pair of deep blue eyes caught mine, her laughter piercing the cacophony to reach my ears. Lenore smiled at me, beckoning me with her head. I move towards her through the other villagers, her eyes holding me in a sort of trance. They glittered with delight, but I could see a shadow of fear stirring in their depths.
As I approached, Lenore pulled away from her group of friends to grasp my hands.
“Ian,” she said softly.
I pulled into my chest with a hug, “don’t worry, you won’t be taken. You can’t be! It’s only been a couple of years since Mara was taken, anyway.”
“Don’t be silly, Ian. You can’t know that. I could be gone tomorrow, taken by the fairy-queen to have my soul consumed. I-” Lenore’s voice trembled, tears soaking into my shirt.
“We could leave,” I whispered.
Lenore looked up. “And go where? If the fairy-queen were to choose me...I couldn’t escape. Nidal was taken right off the road by the fairy-lights, almost ten miles away! I can only hope...” She continued to sob softly into my chest.
I held her close, silently praying to the Fairy-Queen that she would not take my dear Lenore away. We were to be married, once I had finished building my cottage north of the village. We would have a little farm, and some animals, and would begin our own family. I would be hers, and she would be mine; I had only to finish the roof and the inside of the cottage. Only a few more months before we could be wed.
We stole away from the festivities to a nearby grove, lit only by fairy-light. We talked the rest of the night away, trying to forget the what dawn could bring.
The celebration had almost completely died down when the gray of the dawn lit the eastern sky. As the light grew on the horizon, the fairy-lights coalesced into a glowing ball hovering over the green. The figure of a woman appeared in the center of the ball, dark and thin. The ball descended slowly, depositing the still form onto the cool grass. The villagers stirred, watching the ball, fearful of where it would go as it rose again, who it would take.
Lenore and I lay curled together in our little grove, sleeping in peace as the glowing ball approached. I was awoken by shouting from a short distance away; Lenore’s father, mayor of the village, crying out against the ball, unable to hold himself back. I looked up and saw the ball coming towards the two of us, and held Lenore close.
“You can’t have her!” I cried desperately.
As it descended upon us, tears poured out of my eyes, and I rocked back and forth, holding the still Lenore. She seemed to be in a sort of shock, staring silently at her assailant. As the light touched us, I felt the warmth of hundreds of fairy-lights, surrounding us both. I screamed, “please!” with the last of my strength as I felt Lenore dissolve out of my arms.
The villagers held the mayor and I back, telling us, as we ourselves had told many before us, searching the forest would yield nothing. Men who had gone before, seeking their loved ones, found only death.
The villagers approached the woman that had been left in the field for us. Mara had been gone only two years, but her face was almost unrecognisable. I stopped struggling as her eyes caught mine across the grass; hollow eyes devoid of life. She was now just a bitter, empty shell, like all women who had been returned to us after the Fairy-Queen was finished with them. The Fairy-Queen fed on their souls, both mind and body, feasting on their very being. They came back lifeless - a shell of their former selves. They never spoke of their time in the Fairies’ Hollow; they didn’t seem to remember anything before they were left of the field by the fairy-lights.
Mara’s parents wept silently, old wounds reopened by their daughter’s return. They followed the men leading Mara across the village, taking her to a large house on the other side of town. The rest of the villagers came a short distance behind, heads bowed as they trudged along.
The house was set back from the village, hidden in the shadows of the mountains and the trees encroaching the village boundaries. It was a house to be avoided except once a year, its residents arousing painful memories. The housekeeper, Dame Neira, stood out front watching the group approach. Her face was creased with lines, her hair graying, her dress old fashioned with its tall neck and brown color.
“You are welcome to my home, Mara Grist. Your needs will be seen to. You may never leave again” the Dame spoke the words ceremoniously. Mara stared at the dirt.
Dame Grist sobbed uncontrollably as Dame Neira took Mara’s hand, leading her into the house. The door shut firmly behind the pair, leaving the crowd in silence. Dame Grist’s quiet sobs seemed to emphasize the pain we all felt.
Years passed without Lenore’s return. We held our festivals, but each one only seemed to remind me that she was gone. The joy and laughter felt hollow, a facade to forget that house in the wood. They told me to move on, to celebrate life with them, but I couldn’t forget. I could still remember the feel of her warmth leaving my arms, as I lay powerless to hold her back. The dancing fairy-lights, which had always seemed comforting glows in the village, seemed to mock my pain now. Tradition said they were gifts from the Fairy-Queen, payment for the priceless gifts she had taken from us. Nothing could fill the loss of Lenore.
The mayor had taken to keeping to his house, coming out only for a few hours before dawn each day to stare at the field. His wife had to pull him inside each day, pleading with him to stop. He died in his sleep on the morning of the fifth anniversary of the day Lenore was taken. His oldest son, Timo, was left with charge of the village.
I filled my days with work on my little farm, the house long finished. I had a dog for company, and he followed me wherever I went. We often went hunting in the woods, leaving for weeks at a time. The villagers said I was hunting my lost love. I suppose I was, subconsciously, but I really just wanted to escape the constant reminders of Lenore.
I could never find the Fairies’ Hollow.
After seven years, the villagers gave Lenore up as lost forever. No one had ever been taken for so long. It sparked in them the hope that no one would be taken again. Perhaps the Fairy-Queen was finished the our little village.
The celebration of the eighth year was somehow livelier than all festivals combined. It was more than a celebration of life; it was a celebration of hope, and a celebration of freedom. The party was still in full swing when dawn arrived, with most villagers too drunk to notice the fairy lights rising above the crowd.
I watched them form a ball, old hopes and fears rising inside my heart. Could Lenore be returning at long last?
A few villagers pointed at the glowing ball above them, a hush falling over the celebration as faces turned upward. The globe floated downwards towards where I stood, alone in the grass. A body fell into my arms, limp and emaciated. Lenore’s body felt cold against mine, her chest rising and falling weakly. I couldn’t move, couldn’t see anything but her face, features hardened and twisted by years of pain. Sores covered her skin, her hair almost completely gone. She hardly looked like my Lenore, but my heart knew her.
Villagers surrounded us, murmuring softly.
...so long...
...never coming back...
...become of us now...
...Lenore...
...no one taken...
...so strange...
Lenore.
I awoke from my reverie, confused. “No one was taken?” I asked softly.
The crowd fell silent. I repeated my question, strength filling my voice.
“No one, Ian. Perhaps the Fairy-Queen has finally had her fill,” Lenore’s brother, the new mayor, said bitterly.
I looked down at Lenore, who had begun to stir in my arms. What did it all mean?
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