It always helped to have your ma on your side, especially when announcing something as big as wanting to go off adventuring for an unknown amount of time. I was sure da would be happy for me, but just in case he wasn’t ma could convince him.
We hugged each other a while longer until ma regained her composure and went back to destroying the rock-solid turnip. As exciting as it is finding out that your only daughter has decided to go on an adventure, standing around hugging won’t get enough of your famous stew made to feed a village.
Feasts always took place in what we affectionately called the castle, I’d never seen a castle before but was sure that they were nothing like ours. Our castle was a huge stone hall that was built by the first settlers to arrive in our village, the largest building for miles around. It was used for everything, from feasts to meetings. Any event that needed a large building was held in the castle.
Without decorations, the castle was nothing more than a huge hall with sturdy walls made of stacked stones, a wooden roof and empty fire pits.
For the Winters End festival, it looked glorious. The fires were lit, filling the room with dramatic amber light. A welcome change from the cold blustery weather outside. Plates piled high with bread, scones, bannocks, butter, carrots, turnips and potatoes were starting to be brought in by our fellow villagers.
I could smell mouth-watering meat cooking, but there was no sign of it in the castle yet.
“Are we standing here all night?” Munro shouted disturbing my thoughts, to which I rolled my eyes fondly.
Munro, Malcolm and da were carrying huge pots of ma’s famous stew behind me. I wasn’t carrying one. I highly doubted I could have lifted one of the huge metal pots, and even if I had, the added weight would have made breathing and walking completely impossible.
Being a changeling did occasionally have some benefits.
I smirked watching them hurriedly stumble through the hall and slam a pot down on each of the largest tables. The tables and chairs in the castle were a sight to behold.
There were short stools, tall high-backed chairs, stools that looked ready to collapse at any moment, and chairs covered with the fur of an animal I couldn’t even begin to imagine. There are no kings or queens in our village, we all sat together on our mismatched seats around scraped and worn tables that seem to have been in the castle forever.
After we finished preparing the stew for the feast we joined the other villagers, following the river that ran down from the hills and meandered through the fields.
Each family carried a small jug of milk and a bag of oats which were to be given up as an offering to the Others in the Otherworld. In return they would provide water, fish and a good harvest for the next year. The oats were scattered into the river at the point where it leaves the last field owned by one of our villagers. Then, the milk is poured around the fairy stone.
We all stopped and gathered near the fairy stone, which sat on the grass beside the river. I’ve never understood how this rock ended up amongst our fields and not up in the mountains. Da said it’s the same colour as the rocks in the Fairy Hills and that magic carried it down to us so that we would know where to give our offerings. That is how it came to be known simply as the fairy stone.
Perhaps, the fairies had a different name for it. We’d never know.
An intricate pattern of lines, runes and knots had been carved into the rock, either by the first villagers or the fairies themselves, and it always filled me with awe to be standing beside such a huge piece of magic. Munro is the tallest in our family and still, the rock is as big as three of him standing on top of each other.
One by one the torches, carried by young children, were lit as the light began to fade from the grey cloudy sky. I always wondered if the sky fairies could see us from their home, with our burning torches circling and illuminating the fairy stone. I wondered what the fairies and the Others thought of our offerings of milk to the land and oats to the river, if they appreciated them or if they ever wanted something different.
One by one each family had their chance to offer up milk and oats to thank the fairies for our last harvest and hope that they would see fit to grant us another.
Da started off our family’s offering. He took the milk jug and poured in a line around the now sodden and muddy ground at the base of the fairy stone, then he passed it to ma, to Malcolm, to his wife Bonnie, to Munro and then finally to me. Granny Athol and the twins had been left back at the cottage to boil the haggis. By the time I got the jug, there was only just enough left to complete our circle of milk around the stone.
Perhaps I just imagined it, but as the circle closed I felt a tingling in the air. Like the Other’s magic came flowing out of the stone and onto my small family, thanking us for what we had given.
Next, we each grabbed two handfuls of oats from the sack Bonnie had carried with her from the cottage. There was never an order for the giving of oats and so families were simply throwing them randomly into the river. After da threw his, he picked ma up by the waist and spun them both around in a circle. She shrieked and threw the oats at random, thankfully managing to get them into the river whilst she twirled.
I glanced at my brothers and Bonnie and a moment later we each threw our oats high into the air above the river and watched as they fell like snow, illuminated red and orange by the torches, down into the rushing water.
Ever since we were children we always loved to do it at the same time, we felt it would be better for the Others to receive their gift from us as one. When Bonnie came along we quickly added her to the tradition.
After we’d given our gifts, and our family and farm was hopefully blessed for another year, we all piled in for a hug. Ma and da had been hugging so we crushed in with them, squeezing each other tight. I felt tears prickling at my eyes as we laughed together and enjoyed each other’s company.
I felt so lucky to have a family made of such wonderful people, so full of support and love for each other. I could have happily stayed there all night, in the light of the torches. It was still wet and cold but I was comfortable in my thick cloak.
Soon, minds began drifting to the food waiting for us back at the castle and I decided that I didn’t mind us leaving so much after all.
After the walk back to the cottage, which seemed to take forever, we met with Granny Athol and the twins before making our way to the castle for food. Each family sat in the seats beside the food they’d brought, but as the night progressed everyone ended up moving around.
There was no music yet, just the scrape of wooden spoons on wooden plates and the loud chatter of over a hundred-people happy and getting drunker by the minute.
There were no rules for the feast, simply grab a plate and fill it with as much as you can. Then eat until you are sure that your stomach will burst.
Watching my family eating, drinking and laughing together filled me with happiness and gave me the courage to announce my upcoming adventure with Glen.
“So, I have some exciting news,” I said cautiously, out of the corner of my eye I saw ma nod, boosting my confidence. “Glen and I are planning on going on an adventure.”
There was a moment of silence as everyone paused to take in what I had just said, then there were cheers all around and I found myself swept up in da’s arms.
“Off on an adventure! My wee Morven off on an adventure!” He announced loudly, attracting the attention of the tables nearby.
“Alright Maddock, don’t crush the girl before she has a chance to go,” ma scolded with a laugh.
“An adventure you say! Where is my little lamb planning to go?” Granny Athol asked curiously.
“Glen and I thought we would go north to the town and then see the Fairy Hills and Loch Fai, maybe even the Fairy Forest,” I explained, suddenly unsure I wanted them to know how far north we really planned to go.
“Oh lovely, what made you want to go north, rather than down to the sea or the mountains?” asked Malcolm, not realising he was putting me on
the spot.
“Oh well... you know how much Glen loves to tell fairy stories. What better place to go so he can find out more? I just want to see the world, before it’s too late,” I said with a smile.
I hadn’t lied to them, Glen was always on the lookout for more stories and I longed to see the world outside the village.
“Well, I think this announcement calls for more drink!” Munro declared before he pressed a wet kiss to my forehead and ambled off in search of drink.
“Drink!” shouted Morag waving her little spoon and splattering stew across the table.
“Drink! Drink!” echoed Mildred as if she was agreeing with her sister.
Thankfully the twins and their never-ending cuteness saved me from further scrutiny as Bonnie blushed furiously and frantically promised Granny that she didn’t let her three-year olds drink.
The rest of the feast passed without a problem and Glen’s family ended up joining us. Other than congratulating us on our decision to go exploring, nothing more was said about our destination choice. At times, I was sure I could see da glancing at me curiously but the drink made it hard to be sure.
After the food was consumed and we all agreed that we probably wouldn’t need to eat for another year, it was time to light the fires. Every year we gathered spare wood to use in the Winter's End bonfires.
The fires signified the warmth returning to the land and the long bright days we would soon have. It was a beacon so the fairies and the Others knew where we were, to help ensure they granted us a good harvest and a good year.
Pipers and drummers dragged seats outside as the wood was piled up in a clear space downhill from the castle. We made sure that the fires were nowhere near the houses. We all remembered the story about the early villagers, they’d built their fire near their wooden houses and spiteful wee folk set their thatched roofs ablaze.
Wee folk are little fairies that live all over the land. They are apparently the size of an apple and look just like a strange little human. When I was a child I used to imagine that I had lots of wee folk as friends and I would name them and talk to them all.
Of course, that wasn’t true. They dislike being seen by humans and only ever come out to steal food or accept offerings in the middle of the night whilst we are asleep. Some say that they are helpful and will clean and tidy your home, others say they are spiteful and mean like the wee folk that set the roofs on fire.
For this reason, bonfires are built far away from anything that could burn. Two large fires burn, and between them a much smaller fire that some can jump over with a good run up. Most chicken out before they reach the flames or end up landing in it and need to be hastily pulled out by their friends.
Maybe it’s because the Others watch the flames, but thankfully no one has ever been burnt by the Winter’s End bonfires.
This year both Glen and Munro were taking part in the jumping. I have never wanted to join in as I doubted I would make it over. Being a changeling made everything more strenuous than walking a struggle.
Glen was the first to jump, easily clearing the low fire after taking the most ridiculously long run up I’ve ever seen. Then it was Munro’s turn.
He needed less of a run and when he reached the edge of the flames he jumped, springing up with his arms outstretched. I felt my mouth drop open in shock as he landed on the other side doing a forward roll onto his feet.
There was a moment of silence, as if no one could quite believe what he had done before the crowd erupted. Cheering his name and using what they had just seen as another excuse to drink more.
“Ma would have smacked you if she had seen you,” I said with a grin.
“Aye but she didn’t, and I’m sure I saw Rhona from the butcher’s watching me,” Munro winked before dashing off, presumably in search of the girl he risked setting himself on fire to impress.
The rest of the night was spent dancing around the fires to the music from the pipers and drummers. We took part in the group dances, which seemed never-ending and included far too many spins after a large feast. Then we broke apart and, although we danced alone, it was like one huge dance. All of us twirling and kicking and jumping together in a crazy rhythm, all moving to the beat of the same music.
As the night wore on the crowds slowly dwindled. Parents began rushing their children home before they got overtired and started wailing, couples thinking they were being sneaky hurried away together, elderly villagers complained about not being young anymore and demanded to be taken home and finally, those who had drank the most were wrestled from the castle and sent to sober up.
I walked home with da, we weren’t sure where the rest of the family had wandered off to but they would turn up.
We walked together along the wide paths between fields and houses, both too happy to care about the light rain which was still falling.
As I turned to head up to the house he reached out for my hand and gently pulled me off into one of our newest fields. We sat across from each other on the stumps of cleared trees that had not yet been removed.
“So, my wee Morven is off on an adventure,” he said with a smile.
“Not so wee anymore,” I said with a slight laugh, a horrible sinking feeling in my gut telling me that he somehow knew our real plans.
“Where is it you’re off to again?” He asked, his face not betraying any of his emotions.
“Just up near Loch Fai,” I mumbled.
“Ah yes, a good place for Glen to hear stories, I remember now,” he said leaning his elbows on his knees, looking into my eyes.
It felt like he could see every lie I had ever told and quickly looked away.
“Will his stories include lying to his family as well?” he asked and there it was.
He knew and now I was in trouble. I suddenly felt like my heart was ready to jump out of my chest.
“We didn’t mean to lie,” I said, then immediately regretted it.
“You didn’t mean to lie to me and everyone else about where you were planning to go on your first ever journey, which you and Glen have clearly been planning for weeks?”
“We did mean to lie,” I blurted out, “But... but that’s only so you wouldn’t worry!”
“Don’t you think the obvious lies worry me more? A girl and a boy, not mature enough to tell the truth, journeying north by themselves gives me a lot more to worry about.”
“I’m sorry. We wanted to tell the truth. You can trust me!”
“Tell me the truth then, and if you lie to me again, you will be going absolutely nowhere,” he said leaning back and crossing his arms.
“We do want to go north and see the Fairy Forest and see Loch Fai, but then we want to keep going. Make our way up into the fairy kingdoms and see the fairies. Maybe... maybe talk to one...” I paused, breathing heavily but da’s face told me nothing. “I just want to ask. Ask a fairy about changelings. Ask them why they make them. Ask them why they steal babies. Why I am probably going to die soon even though I’ve never done anything wrong and if maybe they can stop it and...”
“Oh Morven, come here lass,” da sighed dropping to his knees in front of me and pulling me down into his arms. “It’s okay, I understand. I won’t punish you, don’t cry.”
I couldn’t help but cry into his shoulder while he held me.
Finally, the burden of lying to the people I loved most was gone and da didn’t seem too angry, not angry enough to stop us going.
Talking about it made me remember just how much I needed answers, just how badly I wanted to find out why this happened and if I could save my life.
B etween the castle and the forest there were many meadows which filled with different flowers each season. Now that spring was approaching, the field we sat in was abloom with bright yellow daffodils, mixing with the few remaining snowdrops from winter.
Nieve and I loved to come to the meadows whenever I could escape from lessons and she could found time in between her chores.
Every time we visited, Nieve threaded th
e flowers she plucked into her long brown hair. She looked beautiful, especially when her hair shone almost auburn in the sunlight. I sometimes tried, but for some reason it just didn’t look as good.
As Nieve was a human, she was never able to dress the way she would like. My father, King Ferchar, was insistent that the humans in our kingdom dressed in plain clothes and wore their hair in a simple style.
Unlike the fairies in Culhuinn, we fairies could dress however we liked and wear as much jewellery as we wanted. I longed for the day that Nieve could pick her own clothes and wear her hair as wild as she would like.
As Nieve roamed around in the flowers, I sat back on one of the tartan blankets we had brought with us and simply enjoyed being outside. At times the castle was stifling and I always found myself longing to be outside.
Not long after I sat down, I felt a little nudge at my leg. When I looked down I noticed one of the wee folk smiling shyly at me.
The wee folk didn’t much enjoy the company of humans or fairies, but this little one seemed to enjoy mine well enough. She approached me whenever I came to the meadow, but she never stayed long. Today she held up a little white snowdrop that she had plucked. I gave her a grateful smile as I took it and her tiny little cheeks blushed a berry red.
Rustling from a nearby patch of flowers told me that her friend was impatiently waiting for her. Much like Nieve and I, they were always together. Unfortunately, her friend never came close.
“Thank you,” I whispered as she waved her little hand at me and ran off into the flowers to join her companion.
I always wondered if she knew that I was the Princess or if she was simply curious about fairies and wanted to observe me closer. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t help but feel special. I loved that our meetings were a secret no one else knew about. Nieve didn’t sit still long enough to notice.
The Changeling's Journey Page 2