When I returned to the bedroom, I found the woman lying on the bed, with no visible intention of waking or making any movements other than minimally twisting her neck from time to time to get into a more comfortable position. I ignored the drumming of my heart at the sight of her. Whatever this was, I did not have time for it.
Canotilas, eilians, gwillions, heltijas, hongas, portunes and sjorkas, I mentally checked while all the faeries of the district gathered around the oldest Cloutie Trees, the one underneath whose roots the magic of the land laid buried. A Cloutie Tree was the most important living being and a blessing the goddess granted us after her passing. Any damage to them would become a death sentence for the offender. They created the energy portals that allowed us to keep the world alive.
“I am called Ansgar, native of the Earth Kingdom and will be your keeper for the next three years,” I introduced myself to my new subjects. “I live in the cave by the river and I cast a spell on my door to help anyone in need, whether or not I am inside. There is no entry password or enchantment. As long as you are earthling derived, what is mine is yours,” I announced in greeting.
“Is it true you are a prince?” one of the hongas asked.
As soon as I turned towards the voice, her hair changed to purple and she buried herself in the ground instead of hearing the answer.
“I am the son of Farryn and Bathysia, King and Queen of the Earth Kingdom,” I confirmed.
“Are you the young one?”
“Indeed,” I nodded.
“Are you mated yet?” an eilian asked and disappeared from sight, only to reappear a second later in front of me. She wore a light blue dress and her hair neatly fashioned to look like a flower. Were it not for her miniature structure, she would be a lovely female.
“I am not,” I responded, and she appeared on my shoulder this time, using my loose hair as a hammock. “I am flattered,” I looked towards her, only able to see part of her dress and her legs, “though I think it would be appropriate for my future mate to be slightly taller.”
The faerie huffed, offended, and disappeared in an instant.
“Now that we have established my origin, residence and sexual preferences, can we continue with this meeting?”
Successively, the faeries educated me in their lives and roles, what the healing priorities were, and any events worth mentioning since the last keeper's visit. After listening carefully and taking notes, I asked if they had any preference regarding their new roles and I started assigning missions. The canotilas, the original tree spirits, were assigned to old barks and roots while the eilians, tiny winged creatures that could appear and disappear as they wished, would be in charge of messages and outside protection. The gwillions, tall mountain faeries with dark and rough skin continued to survey the caves and river banks. The helijas and the hongas, small stature older folk, were in charge of surface and underground healing energies, the portunes had to grow new flowers and sprouts, while the sjorkas, the original protectors of the forest, took the guard role alongside me.
Every morning, I had to accompany one group to be presented with their territories and locations and establish a new maintenance and growth design. After which, I had to prepare the potions and healing powders each group needed to perform their duties for the next moon cycle.
“And what about the pixies?” a small winged creature asked sweetly.
“You have fun ladies, keep the spirits high,” I said smiling, and suddenly thousands of winged particles of light started bouncing with joy. I always liked pixies. They were so small they could not even help with mending a dying leaf, but their spirits recited energy and enchantment.
By dusk, all earthlings were joyous about their new keeper and plans, discussing excitedly through their vision for the district and swapping stories and ideas.
“Are we not going to mention the visit of the dark one?” one of the sjorkas raised his voice to make himself heard over the crowd. Silence enveloped the area. No one dared breathe too loudly. After a few seconds, the same questions repeated, creating a never-ending loop of inquiries.
“The dark one?”
“Is it true?”
“Was it here?”
“How?”
“When?”
Small voices talked in low tones, none of them able to give an answer, and so they sent the questions forth until some of them reached me. I had kept silent until then.
“It is true, Fear Gorta was here,” I confirmed.
I heard shock across the forest as the earthlings escaped held breaths.
“He provoked me to a game, using the human living in this forest as a pawn, an intended blood sacrifice. He vanished, and she is safe,”
I explained.
“How can you be sure? Where is she? What if Fear Gorta comes back?” the heltijas asked all together.
“I do not expect him to come back soon. He left the district badly injured. The human did not bleed onto the soil. There is no spilling or curse, I can assure you. She is sleeping in the cave and I will return her once I make sure there is no danger of remembering,” I appeased them.
