They
say you can't go back, and some places I
don't want to. Not to Belfast, my home town
though it is. And not just for the obvious
reason, though I was glad enough to get away
from that. The place has changed, mostly for
the better but in some ways for the worse,
and I can't stick seeing the worse.
I
escaped into the frontiers of the mind long
before I escaped in body, the local library
being well stocked in science fiction.
Imaginary worlds were my refuge, whole
universes for my delight. But escape in body
I did eventually, away to England and
university and a job. Still, Belfast draws
you back, if only for a few days' visit. And
so I found myself one fine day wandering the
countryside, the road winding in and out and
over the drumlins of County Down, and
Strangford Lough appearing and disappearing
with the twists and turns of the road.
I
turned inland after a while, which was a
mistake, for I didn't have a map and didn't
know the roads as well as I'd thought. You
know how it is, the roads look different when
you're the driver and not the passenger.
Still, it took me past some things I had not
seen before, at least not that I could
recall, and eventually I found a pleasant
spot to stop and have a cup of tea from the
thermos in the car. A green hillside with not
a soul around, where I could sit and admire
the view. There was a narrow path around the
hill, with a public right of way sign, so I
need not fear trespassing. I climbed a little
up from the path, and settled myself on the
grass. I felt almost guilty at disturbing the
quiet when I pulled out my PDA and set it to
playing my current audio book, but I was
close to the end and wanted to hear it.
I must
have dozed off in the warm sunshine, for I
awoke with a start to find an alien standing
before me. Black hair, white skin, and great
gold eyes with a not quite human slant to
them. And pointed ears. Why is it always
pointed ears? I suppose because even the
pro-grade prosthetics are relatively cheap
and easy enough to come by, with the demand
from the Trekkers, and they can be readily
adapted for other fandoms, other mythologies.
I'm sure he'd have frightened the mundanes,
but I've seen odder things often enough. If
I'd known there was a science fiction con on
locally, I'd have made an effort to go to it.
Especially if I'd known there were fans as
pretty as this one to be found there. Pretty
he certainly was, even with the daft outfit.
I felt my cock stir.
That,
and curiosity, and politeness, suggested I
find out who he was. "Where'd you spring
from? It's a bit out of the way for a con,
unless there's a conference hotel just over
the hill." Although he wasn't wearing a
membership badge. Another possibility struck
me. "Or are you filming something?"
"None
of those," he said, and his voice was as
beautiful as his body. "I'm not from
your world, Jack."
Dark
they were, and golden-eyed...
"I
don't believe in Martians. Or even Vulcans.
It's a nice costume, they can do wonderful
things with contact lenses these days, can't
they?"
Wonderful
things, and even the sclerals are almost
comfortable these days, and you could have
got the gold iris and the cat's-eye slit with
a simple prescription-style lens. Except that
I couldn't see the tape that had to be there
to hold the eyes in the wrong shape.
"I
don't bleed green, thank you," he said.
And how
the hell had he known my name? I didn't have
a stalker amongst the local fen, not that I
knew of, anyway. Only I really didn't want to
believe I'd been chosen for a First Contact
situation by some species that had watched
enough of our tv to catch the references.
"You'd
have known me once, Jack," he said,
"but your people have different tales of
glamour to tell now, don't they?" He
cocked his head on one side. "Your
ancestors would not have been fool enough to
sleep where you sleep now. Although I suppose
the gateway warning isn't so clear,
nowadays."
"Gateway?"
"Door,
perhaps." He gestured... and the
hillside a few metres away from me opened up,
the turf swinging up and out in two great
leaves as if they were indeed the leaves of a
door. I'm not ashamed to say that I yelped
and scrambled to my feet, but there was a
curiosity as well as fear pulling at me. Had
I managed to fall asleep on a spaceship that
had grown a lawn to disguise itself? I walked
the few metres to the doorway, and peered in,
from what I hoped was a safe distance.
The
turf was soil on the underside, and it had
hidden a dark passage cut through the soil.
And
then I knew who and what he was, and was
afraid. The Good People are called that for a
reason, and I'm not so out of touch with my
cultural heritage as to not know what it is.
It's never a good idea to express your true
opinion of those with power. No, stay away
from the Fair Folk if you value your sanity
and your life. Fair of face indeed, but
capable of cruelty and capriciousness. Even
the ones with no malice in them have a way of
forgetting that mortals are, well, mortal.
They'll take you away for a year and a day,
or even a year times seven, and have no
thought for your own life.
Legends.
Myths. Superstition.
Not
real. We all know that, don't we?
Well,
an old legend, an old warning, had sprung to
new life and it stood in front of me. I stood
in the warm sunshine and shivered as if the
gentle breeze that blew from the opening had
come straight from Antarctica.
Then
there was a hand on my shoulder, and a voice
like silver bells saying, "It will not
suck you in, Jack. It must be your choice, to
take that road." And he waved his hand
again, and the doors closed themselves.
"It's
probably not a good idea to leave it open,
not in the day," he said. There was
laughter in his voice as he added,
"After all, it might frighten the
mundanes."
"What
do you want?" I could hear the fear in
my own voice.
"You,
Jack." He pulled me around to face him,
and for the first time I realised he was
shorter than me. He'd given the impression
when I'd been looking up at him from my seat
on the grass that he was a tall man. He still
did, it was only the knowledge that I was
actually looking down at him slightly that
counteracted that. Glamour, it was the
glamour, I found myself analysing.
"Me?"
He
brushed the fingertips of one hand across my
face. "You. You see me, and you believe,
and you are not afraid."
Couldn't
he bloody hear my heart hammering?
He
smiled. "Not so afraid, at least, that
you will not even listen to me." Then he
leaned forward and kissed me.
Well.
He
might be one of the sidhe, but he felt human
enough against my mouth, and in my arms, and
against my cock. And pressing me against the
good green grass, where we had dropped, or
fallen, in a tangle. And then he pulled away,
and I could no longer feel him touching me.
I
opened my eyes, wondering whether I was
dreaming, whether it was only now that I was
waking, and found that I was not. He was
still there, and still solid, only now he was
crouching over me, watching me with a rather
wistful expression on his face. "I think
I may have made a mistake," he said.
"Mm?"
"I
only came out because I wanted a little time
in this world, and there was the chance to do
so. I did not expect to find you."
"Why
didn't you let me sleep on?" I asked. I
was still afraid, but only of accidental
damage now, I did not feel any malicious
intent from him.
"Because
your story came to an end, and I wanted to
hear more." He glanced to one side.
"I dare not touch it."
I
followed his gaze. He was looking at the PDA,
which lay silent now. So that was what had
attracted him. The old tales told of the
sidhe being fascinated by bards, minstrels,
the story tellers and singers. "It's
only someone reading a written book aloud,
it's not a true bard tale."
"But
such a beautiful voice, and he knows how to
use it." He looked at me again.
"And we like your tales of wonder as
much as we do our own."
I
couldn't help laughing at that.
"What's
so funny?" he asked, looking bewildered.
"Well,
I thought you were a science fiction fan when
I first saw you. Don't tell me you actually
are one!"
He
smiled, dazzling me. "Yes, I see."
He stroked one hand down my teeshirt, the one
from a con the year before. His touch made me
tingle. "Well, if I could walk in your
world for a whole weekend, I would spend it
at one of these."
"You'd
probably get away with it, too." I
stroked him in turn, still reassuring myself
that he was real and not some phantasm to
turn to mist under my touch. "You could
pass for a human in costume, if you were
careful."
"One
reason, although not the only one." Then
he leaned down and kissed me again, making me
dizzy. I barely heard what he said next.
"I do like your science fiction, your
fantasy. Your tales have changed, and the
ways you can tell them, but they are still
exciting."
"What's
exciting me at the moment is you. Come
here."
I
grabbed him and pulled him down on me,
wanting the contact. He came willingly into
my arms, lying full length upon me. He was as
aroused as I was, his cock hard against mine,
his face flushed a little now. His body felt
a little odd under my exploring hands, but
well within the range for humans. Harder
muscled than I'd somehow expected in such a
slim body.
I
looked up at him, still not quite sure I
wasn't dreaming. Golden cat eyes looked back
down at me, but no cat he, something far more
alien. And very, very real. I thrust up
against him without my even thinking about it
first, my body taking over. He gasped, his
eyes half closing, then shoved against me
before pulling back, one hand going to my
trousers.
Common
sense returned. "What if someone comes
past?"
"Sod
them." He grinned wickedly.
"Although I'd rather sod you."
"You
can vanish back inside your hill. I'll have
to stay here and face the law. We're not
supposed to frighten the horses, you
know."
"I'll
make them think they've been seeing
things." He brushed his lips over mine,
making it difficult to think. I stopped
worrying about passers-by--after all, I'd
deliberately picked a spot that was out of
the way, that did not have a direct view of
the road. And maybe he could glamour anyone
who came by; he'd certainly managed to
glamour me. No fear now, just desire for the
attractive man in my arms.
"Anyway,"
he went on, "you can hide with me. Just
inside the door holds no danger."
"We
have these things called cars. With things
called licence plates." It was possible
that he didn't actually know, although his
use of fannish terminology suggested recent
contact with the modern world. "Mine's
parked over there, which makes it easy for
anyone who takes offence to trace who I
am."
"A
car, I'll admit, would be a more difficult
thing to hide," he said. "But why
would anyone want to trace it, if there's no
call to know who the owner is?"
I
believed him. So I made no further protest as
he explored the fastening of my jeans,
unzipping them and slipping his hand inside
to grip my cock. Oh god but the touch of his
hand on me felt good, and I wondered whether
it was just lust, or if there was true magic
in it. I fumbled with his clothes in turn,
only then noticing what I should have
noticed, that they were ordinary clothes like
mine. I had taken him for a stray con member
because that's what he looked like, dressed
in jeans and teeshirt, or something much like
them. "Zips?" I asked
incredulously.
"We
like modern technology. At least that of it
we can use. Plastic's wonderful, why didn't
you people think of it earlier?" He
grinned again. "I don't suppose you have
any interesting sex toys with you? I'd like
the chance to try one."
"I
think you count as the most interesting sex
toy I've ever had. And no, I've none with
me."
I'd
managed to get him out of his jeans by now,
and had no doubt at all that he was
interested in me. His cock was hard and
beautiful. There was something... not quite
human... about the shape, but the difference
was no more than the shock you get if you're
used to uncircumcised men and you get one who
is--the double-take at it being not quite
what you're used to, but keen enough on it
for all of that. Like the rest of him,
pointed ears and golden eyes and all--not
homo sapiens, but human enough. I pushed at
him, so that we ended up with him being the
one lying on his back, and me leaning over
him. Then I leaned down and took him in my
mouth, wanting to taste him, and yes, wanting
to know whether he tasted different.
And he
did taste different, although I could not
have told you how. Different and wonderful,
his cock filling my mouth as he grabbed the
back of my neck and pulled me right down. I
almost choked, and then he relented, his hand
stroking me softly rather than forcing me.
"I'm sorry," I heard him say,
"I should not have done that."
Reassured,
I explored him with my mouth, savouring the
slight differences. One thing was the same,
the sound of a man gasping in pleasure as I
licked and sucked at him. I'm good at it, I
know, I've been told so often enough, but it
was still something to let go and look back
at his face and see his delight in what I'd
been doing. The sidhe are said to have
exacting standards, and no doubt that applied
to love-making as much as to music-making.
"Good enough for you?"
"More
than good enough, my Jack," and his
voice caressed me even as his hands did.
"Are you as good at other things?"
He
tugged at my teeshirt, a less than subtle
hint. I clambered off him, regretting the
inelegance that haste and lust made of my
movements, and pulled my teeshirt off. He'd
sat up and done the same, was now wriggling
out of his jeans. Even now I wondered whether
that was wise, whether we would not be safer
doing something that could be construed as
cuddling, but I followed his lead.
And
then we were naked before one another, and I
marvelled at how beautiful he was. I knew it
might be glamour, that I might not be seeing
his true appearance, but I wanted him so
badly that I didn't care. He was beautiful to
me not just in looks, but in what he was; my
own alien come to me, not from the stars but
from out of legend.
I hoped
I was the same to him, and then I saw the way
he was looking at me, and knew that I was. I
was the alien, the wonder, to him. The touch
of fantasy in his life.
"Jack,
may I be on top?" he said, making of it
a formal request.
A
practical matter struck what was left of my
mind. "Does your magic extend to not
needing condoms and the like?" I had
what was needful in my luggage in the car,
but no wish to get dressed again so that I
could go to the roadside.
"Condoms
we do not need." He rummaged in his
pockets. "This we could do without, but
why should we deprive ourselves of the
pleasure of putting it on?" He handed me
a small jar. "Skin cream, in case the
sun was too hot, but it will do."
I took
it from him, tried the lid. Plastic lid on a
small glass pot, not unlike the cosmetics
pots my sister used. I dipped a finger into
the cream inside, testing it. It felt
pleasant enough, and if he was willing to use
it so was I. I scooped some out and applied
it to him, enjoying the feel of it as I
smoothed it on. Satisfied with my work, I
handed the pot back to him, and lay back on
the grass.
He
anointed me in turn, careful, considerate.
Driving my desire ever higher. And then he
was done, dropping the little pot to one side
and moving into my arms, plunging into me as
I embraced him. Fast and deep and almost
painful, and then we had the knack of it, how
to move so that the slope of the hill helped
us rather than hindering. He was shorter than
me, I wanted to kiss him but couldn't quite
reach his mouth, then he wriggled somehow so
that it worked. Only for a moment before the
strain became too much for him, and he pulled
away again, but enough. Then I contented
myself with running my hands over him,
marvelling at the softness of his skin, the
feel of the fine strands of his hair, even as
he nuzzled at my neck.
"Too
damned fast," he muttered, "wanted
to show you how good I can be, but I want
you, can't wait."
"Make
it feel like magic?"
He
glanced up at me, his face almost savage now.
"Want to make you not be satisfied with
anyone else. Ever."
That
sort of possessiveness I could deal with, so
long as he didn't propose to make me want and
then not satisfy me. I clutched at his
shoulders. "Fuck me," I ordered,
shocked to hear my own voice.
He did,
driving hard into me, making me dig my nails
into his skin, although I only realised that
later. Hard and fast and then neither of us
could hold back any longer, as he said,
"Now, Jack," in a voice that was no
longer silver bells, but deep and bronze with
desire. We came together, swearing, panting,
clinging to each other.
There
must have been magic in it, for it took
rather a long time before I noticed that
elves are actually quite heavy.
Not
only that, I hadn't noticed the approach of
an audience. A man was walking along the path
around the hill. I stiffened again, and not
in a good way. "Shit!"
He put
his hand over my mouth, and twisted around to
look where I was looking. "Be
quiet," he commanded in a whisper.
It was
too late to run, we would be seen even if we
went into the hill. So I stayed where I was,
wondering what my parents would think of the
headlines in the paper. Only the man kept on
walking, with no sign of alarm. He was
looking around him, enjoying the view, and
his gaze swept right over us, yet he never
saw us, never halted to shout at us.
I
slowly relaxed, and watched in fascination as
he walked by only a metre or so from where we
lay. There was an enormous grin all over my
lover's face, and I didn't think it was just
from what we'd been doing as the man had come
around the hill. "Believe me now, don't
you?" he whispered, very quietly.
The man
did look around then, and glanced in our
direction, looking a little puzzled. But he
still did not see us, where we lay tangled in
a sweaty, naked heap, and he merely shook his
head and walked on towards the gate. Only
when he had passed through onto the road, and
his footsteps had died away, was the hand
removed from my mouth.
"Easier
to glamour only one sense at a time," he
explained, although I'd understood that once
I'd seen the man's reaction to his whisper.
"Though it was a bit careless of me not
to do all when we were so close to the
path."
"Would
he have even heard us if we'd been a bit
further up the hill?"
"Only
the rustling of a mouse moving through the
grass."
I
looked up at him and marvelled. "Now
that is magic."
"Being
able to hide from mortals?"
"Being
able to make love out in the open, under the
sky, and not worry about being
arrested."
He
frowned then. "Is it still so bad
here?"
"Believe
it. Even if we were man and woman, we could
have been in trouble. But..."
"Barbarians,"
he hissed. "It was ill-mannered of us
not to go away from the path, but that was
all."
Well,
it was bad manners, as well as foolish, to
have made love right where anyone walking the
path could not have helped but see us.
"We'd better dress or move. It's not
fair on other people to stay here like this;
they couldn't avoid seeing us if you forget
and let the glamour slip, and it upsets
people to come across naked people
unexpectedly even if they don't mind the
idea."
He
sighed, and rolled off me. "True."
He reached for his clothes. "Can we at
least hold one another, for a little
while?"
"That
we can probably get away with."
And
that was what we did. We gathered ourselves
up, and he took me to a large stone, warmed
by the afternoon sun. I leaned back against
it, and he snuggled up to me, resting his
head on my shoulder. He wanted to see more of
the PDA, fascinated by it. I showed him an
ebook. "It can hold dozens of books.
More with memory cards."
"A
whole library in the palm of your hand,"
he said, wonder in his voice. He reached his
hand out to almost touch it, hesitated, and
then said, "This is different." And
then he touched it very lightly, snatching
his hand away instantly as if he had expected
to be burnt. Then back again. "I can
hold it." Joy, pure joy in his voice.
"It has no iron in it. Or not enough to
harm. And yet it is electrical."
"Your
people really can't stand iron?"
"It
makes the world change shape, and we cannot
find our way."
"Plastic
case, semi-conductors, and electrically
shielded." Idle speculation from a con
panel returned to me. "If you have an
electromagnetic sense, this wouldn't bother
you. Not much, anyway."
"I
wish I could take it with me." He sat
up, pulling away from me a little, turning to
face me. "Will you come with me, Jack,
for a little while?" he asked wistfully.
"I cannot stay here, not for long."
"Why
not?" For that matter, "Why are you
never seen any more?"
"There
is too much iron in your world now."
I
didn't know whether he meant that literally
or metaphorically or both, and was afraid to
ask. If I asked, he might tell me, and I
wasn't sure I wanted to know. Perhaps they
just couldn't stand our electricity grids.
It
occurred to me, "I don't even know your
name."
"Fergal,"
he said simply.
I
blinked at that. It seemed a somewhat plain
name for something so exotic.
"Or
at least that's how you would say it
now."
"Just
how old are you?"
He
smiled slightly. "Not old at all, for my
kind. Not even that old by your standards.
Will you come with me, Jack? There are
wonders I could show you, wonders I want to
share with you as you have shared yours with
me."
"And
what's the price? I spend a night with you,
and I come out and find that seven years have
gone by?" No, I did not think him
malicious, but I did think him perhaps not
aware of how short my life was compared to
his.
He
shook his head. "We made a new bargain.
I'll take you for seven years willingly
enough, but it will be seven years in my
world, and only a night in yours."
"Fergal..."
"We
learnt, Jack," and his voice was bitter.
"We learnt almost too late, what it was
we had done to those we had loved. And we
made a new bargain, that we might not harm
you again. That price is no longer one you
have to risk paying. You will be safe enough,
if you obey the rules."
"Rules?"
"The
gatekeeper will tell you. Will you come, at
least as far as the gatekeeper, that he might
do so?"
I
trusted him, because he understood what it
was I was afraid of. "All right." I
looked at the PDA I still held. "Shall I
bring this?"
"You
might have to leave it at the gate. But we
should try. It would be a marvellous thing if
we could have even one such. New
stories..." And his eyes brightened.
"The
laptop. I'll bring the laptop, the power
won't last long but if it'll work at all and
it doesn't harm you, you can see a DVD."
I got to my feet and went to the car, Fergal
following me but staying on the other side of
the hedge away from the large lump of cold
iron. And then we walked back to the hill,
and the door, and the tunnel leading
somewhere that doesn't exist in the world. I
held the laptop case in one hand, and his
hand in the other, and as the door closed
gently behind us we walked down that tunnel
into the light that shone from the far end.
There
was another door, this one standing open, and
another elf sitting there behind a small
desk. Somehow he felt older than Fergal,
although he looked young in the face. He
looked disapprovingly at Fergal.
"It's
his own choice," Fergal said. "He
wants to see, and he has the strength of
mind."
"And
you're both young and in love and thinking
with your balls," the older man snapped.
"Have you two thought this
through?"
In
love? Yes, I was, although I had not thought
of it until now. I had looked at him and
known I wanted him. Had it been that way for
him too? "Fergal said... that I would go
back to my own world with nothing
changed." Although, had he? "Will I
have only aged a night?"
The
gatekeeper nodded. "Time does not run
the same in our worlds. Once, it was not
predictable. It could be a day in each place,
or a mortal lifetime in one while only a
night in the other. But when we understood
what we were doing to you, we made a bargain.
And now time will not go faster in your world
while you are here, and your body's age will
be tied to your own time." He looked at
us and sighed. "A pity that we did not
think to ask if we could change one or two
other things, while we were at it. Love at
first sight may be very romantic, but as a
geas across the worlds it has its
drawbacks."
"It
can't be helped now," Fergal broke in.
"I heard, and I saw, and I was
lost."
It
sounded like a formula. The gatekeeper tutted
at him, then looked at me again. "Do you
understand what you are getting into?"
"Can
I leave before the seven years are up?"
"The
door will stay open for a night of your time,
and you may come and go as you please. With
or without this young idiot. After that...
One night of your time, seven years of ours.
Those are the terms. Do you accept
them?"
How
could I not? I'd always regret it if I turned
on my heel and left. "Yes."
"What
do you bring with you?"
It felt
just like customs and security at an airport.
I supposed that in a way it was. I put the
laptop case on the table, and the PDA, and
the contents of my pockets, and switched on
the things that could be switched on. Fergal
was almost babbling in his eagerness to
convince the gatekeeper that they needed
these things. The gatekeeper prodded at the
laptop. "It's borderline. How much power
can it put out?"
He
clearly understood what he was talking about,
perhaps they'd had trouble with electrical
equipment before.
"I'll
play a DVD," I offered. "That's the
heaviest power drain." It started
playing from where I'd left it. The Pan-Am
shuttle to the moon, the first view of the
monolith.
The
gatekeeper was almost in tears. He looked at
me. "Thank you for bringing us this. We
have been told the story, by fine story
tellers, but I never expected to see it with
my own eyes."
We
passed inside, with everything I had brought.
###
I was
made welcome, very much so, even before I
showed them my toys. It seemed that we walked
for miles, although I was not hungry nor
thirsty nor tired, meeting the people of the
land I was in. Distances didn't seem to work
in the normal fashion, so it might have only
been a few hundred metres instead. And then
we sat down to a great feast that was
prepared, and I set another audio book going
to entertain the diners, although I wondered
whether it was wise to drain the battery like
that. Only afterwards, as I checked to see
what battery life was left, did I realise
something. "Fergal, we've been here
hours, and the time on this is the same as
when we came in!"
He
peered at it. "Maybe it's keeping the
time of your world."
"But
it's working at normal speed!"
He
shrugged. "So are you. And you'll only
be a day older when you go back."
I could
see his point. I didn't like it, but I could
see it. I could think, move, at what seemed
to me to be a normal speed, and yet they had
reassured me that I would only age at the
same rate as the outside world. Maybe the PDA
could do the same.
I
really only believed it a week later, when
the machine was still showing an almost full
battery, and was of the opinion that four
seconds had gone by. It had spent that week
constantly on, with at least one of the sidhe
scribbling away, making records of the
stories it held. I had no idea where the
laptop was, it had been carried away by a
group of gleeful science fiction fans intent
on working through my DVD collection. I
assumed that it was in the same oddly
functional state as the PDA, as it had not
yet been returned to me.
"I
think you can stop worrying about the battery
life," Fergal said. "Do you have
any interesting porn on there?"
Well,
of course I did, and very inspirational it
was too.
And so
I spent short days and long nights, and the
reverse, though not in any orderly, seasonly
fashion of slow change from one to the other.
I told them stories, I sang them filks, and I
did that which all of us do for our friends
from other countries who've not seen the
latest series; the plot summary.
And I
made love, often atimes. We wandered through
his country, and made love wherever we
pleased, for there was no scandal in it
there. Not for two men, or at least two men
of his race; there was sometimes muttering at
his having taken a human lover. Not racism,
so far as I could tell, but what seemed to be
a fear for us both. I asked, once, of the
gatekeeper.
"It's
not as it was, child," he said.
"Our worlds are drawing apart, it
becomes harder and harder to cross between
them. And harder yet for someone from one to
live in the other."
"I
manage." The place was strange, not
paying much attention to the laws of physics
that I was familiar with, but beautiful for
all of that. I missed my friends back home,
yes, but not strongly, as if my emotions were
tied to the passage of time outside, rather
than the months it had subjectively been. And
I had my love to keep me company, and new
friends here.
"For
a time. But you're used to living in strange
worlds, you do better than most of your kin
could." He seemed saddened. "Others
have gone mad. When the door closes, and
there is no contact, when they realise that
they are truly alone with us, and that this
place is not home..." He shook his head.
"He should not have brought you here,
glad though we are to have you." Then he
smiled. "Tell me of space exploration. I
should have liked to have gone on a rocket
ship, to have the moon in a fixed orbit,
where one may set out and know that it will
be there when one arrives."
So I
told the gatekeeper of sitting watching old
film, one small step for a man, and watched
him dream of taking one large step for
elfkind, into a world that no longer allowed
of his existence.
###
There
were no mirrors in that place, I could not
see the passage of time in my face. No
clocks, no reliable astronomy, no easy means
for me to tell the time. One only had one's
innate sense that time was passing, and even
I could feel that, although they were more
sensitive to it than I was. I was not
surprised when Fergal came to me and told me
that it was our last night together,
according to the bargain we had made. One
night for seven years.
"No.
I don't want to leave you." Bitter cold
clamped around me as I looked at him, pointed
ears and golden cat eyes that were not a
costume. "And you can't come with me,
can you?" Even if he could survive a
world of cold iron, could he survive its
people and their interest in him?
"You
go back now or not at all. And you cannot
live for long in Faerie, my love, any more
than I can live in your world. A brief visit,
that is all." He touched his fingers to
my forehead, and I fell in a swoon.
###
"And
I awoke and found me here on the cold hill's
side."
I must
confess, that was my first thought when I did
indeed awake and find me on the cold hill's
side, although nowadays one thinks of our own
scourge, not the tuberculosis of Keats. I
loved him, I trusted him, but I could not
help but remember the tales of those who'd
sickened and wasted away when the geas was
broken and they'd lost their immortal lover.
So I was away first thing to a doctor for
tests, which all came back clear. Well, not
first thing, the very first thing I did was
find two pieces of the real and mortal world;
a newspaper to check the date, and a mirror
to check my face. I had not changed, nor had
the world. Only one night, as he had
promised.
It took
me a little longer than that to realise the
true price. The price for both of us. There
was nothing obvious, not at first, only the
longing to see him again, him and his world,
and to begin with I could deal with that. I'm
used to living half my life in worlds that
don't exist, not in this dimension.
One
night of my life in exchange for seven years
with him. All the price he was required to
ask, and all the gift he was allowed to give.
He did not tell me what the true curse was,
and I did not think to ask the right
question.
The
door has not opened to me again. It never
will.
