Dread And Puissant Champion of The Fae

Tim had often done the cooking back when it was just his mother and he in the apartment in New York. But it was usually simple stuff.

Okay lasagna might not be the fanciest dinner ever, but still. Tim had never done anything that elaborate before. Hobson had secretly gone behind him and helped where needed, and Tim pretended not to have noticed. It worked out well.

Dessert was store-bought of course. Gwynn's favorite. And there were makings for mixed drinks for later.

They were a number of years too early for Netflix and chill, but Tim had tried for the next best thing, renting a few movies that he hoped she'd like to see, and one or two he knew she'd mentioned favorably.

And of course there was a neatly wrapped present on the coffee table.

Now of course, all that was needed was the girl.

And yes, he knew it was Monday. He was determined however to worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

Bracing himself for the mass of replies he hoped expected to get, Tim (who hadn't told anyone he was going to propose), finally did all the social media stuff about getting engaged. Then went the official announcement:

Hello friends and family, and maybe even frenemies! As of a few days ago, Gwynn and I are engaged.

One nice thing about this lost island, it was warm, even at night. Which was good because they hadn't been able to risk a fire. Gobo, being a natural at exploring unknown areas, or possibly just having an instinct for finding caves, had found them a nice place hidden behind some undergrowth and boulders. The cave floor was covered with a deep enough layer of sand to make it somewhat comfortable to sleep on.

That was the extent of their luck that night however. They'd reached the top of a cliff, with no easy way down, and still no sign of the shore. And though they had the opportunity to rest, they were unable to find any way to remove Tim's shackles. There weren't any locks to pick, or rocks big enough to try breaking the chain connecting them.

“That would probably make a lot of noise anyway eh?” Gobo suggested.

Robin then explained that after graduating college, he'd decided to spend the summer in Fraggle Rock. He and Gobo had been exploring, and found a passageway that his friend was sure no one had ever found before. And it of course, led them right into Ana's cell.

The two Muppets, Tim, and Leda had taken turns keeping watch, but the night had been uneventful.

Before Ana woke up, Tim and Leda had a brief conversation about the plan.

“What do you think our chances are?” Tim asked.

“Not good.” she shrugged. “They're sure to figure out we'd try for the docks. Unfortunately that's really our only escape. So we'll have to chance it. Probably one of us will have to sacrifice ourselves, cause a distraction or something so the other can get Ana to a boat.”

“Why are you so fucking calm about all this?” Tim snapped.

“I don't know. I suppose I ought to be scared. Or angry. But I'm not. Do you suppose it's possible to get so scared that you lose the capacity for it?”

Later...

“Do you suppose last night was their only shot?” Robin asked. “In the movies rituals like that have to be performed at a specific time.”

“Somehow I doubt they'll just let us go, even if that were the case.”

“There's gotta be people looking for us.” Tim said. “I mean, people we want to find us. Ana's dad, Gwynn, hell, the Queen of the Elves can't just vanish without people noticing.”

That gave Leda pause. “Huh. Yes you're right. And both your world and mine have magic. But this operation was planned out very well. Surely the Fomorians would have taken that into account.”

“That's a lot of factors to keep track of.” Tim said firmly. “If you don't mind, I'll hold out some hope of the cavalry riding over the hill.”

“You do that.”

[Continued from here.]

The next time Tim came to, Marsh was sitting at the table in the room. "Marsh? What the hell is going on? Did you hit me?"

"Yes Tim I did. I thought maybe otherwise you'd actually come up with a plan of escape, and well that didn't work for us."

"Us? What...where are we?"

Marsh sighed. "You know Tim for someone chosen to be the spokesman for the Fae in America, you're depressingly ignorant of your own family history. Why do you think they chose you?"

Tim's head felt better, but his stomach was still unhappy, which distracted him. Were they on a boat? And since when did Marsh actually know about the fae? Much less Tim's connection to them? "Chose me...my father-"

"Yes that's right, your father. And do you really think that was a coincidence? Somehow, your father found a random portal to the Leeside, heard a cry for help and ran to the rescue? He found it because of who he was. Because of what you both are.

"Timothy Alfred Desmond, Grand and Puissant Champion of the Fae. And direct descendant of the Tuatha De Danan."

"...what?"

"You do know who they were I hope. Tell me your studies haven't all been for nothing."

So many questions and objections crowded into Tim's mind. He managed to sum them all up.

"Huh?!"

"It's a lot to take in, I know. We might even have time for further discussions before the ceremony. But for now I'm going to make this very simple. Your family invaded my country, killed my people and drove the rest of us into exile. We're going to kill you Tim. I just wanted you to understand why."

Windows down, music playing, Tim managed to forget the stress of trying to adjust to driving on the left side of the road. With the steering wheel on the wrong side even.

In the passenger seat, Marsh was poring over the map, sadly missing out on much of the gorgeous country side. But he glanced up when Tim snickered. “What?”

“They painted 'slow' on the road back there. And a little bit later they painted 'slower'.”

Marsh smirked. “Gotta love that wry humor. Where are we?”

“You're the navigator.” Tim said. “I'm just along for the ride.”

The two were on a short road trip, trying to locate local sites of pagan spiritual significance. While Tim was after the stories themselves (and hopefully meet local Fae to get their side), Marsh was attempting to determine how prevalent the belief in Fairies was. His own thesis was about the enduring power of ancient beliefs.

Tim had gotten the driver job because as it turned out, he hadn't driven much in the US, so he was likely to have an easier time adjusting. So far, so good.

“Right. Well we should be coming up on...Innbeil. I'm probably pronouncing that wrong.”

“No I think you got it.” Tim said, and sure enough they passed a sign that announced they were entering the town of Innbeil. Their timing couldn't be better. No sooner had they sighted the cozy seaside hamlet, then an unpleasant noise erupted from the engine.

*****

“Looks t' be ye're after kickin' up somethin' from th' road into the engine.” the mechanic said. “Nothin' that can't be sorted, but I don't think I could get it finished till tomorrow.”

Marsh swore under his breath. They'd budgeted a limited amount of time for this side trip, and the car had to be back at the rental place by the end of the week. This town wasn't even on their itinerary.

“So we either spend extra on the car, or we don't get to every place on our list.” Tim grumbled, as they walked towards the town's only hotel.

“I guess it's just as well we sprang for the insurance on the rental.”

Fortunately there were two rooms available at the hotel. The season was beginning, and holiday makers were coming in. That evening, Tim and Marsh tried to talk to some of the inhabitants, hoping to make up for any lost time by collecting some local folklore. But all they got were dirty looks.

Tim actually had been feeling like something was off for a while now.

“Do the folks around here seem...standoffish to you?” he finally asked.

“Maybe they don't like tourists.”

“A tourist town that doesn't like tourists?”

“Just because they have accommodations for 'holiday makers' doesn't make it a tourist town.” Marsh corrected him. “And even then, lots of townies resent outsiders, even if they are willing to take their money.”

But Tim was sure it was more than that. Something was just setting his instincts, honed by years of adventures, on their guard. He noted that the door to his room did not have a lock on it. Frowning, he summoned his sword and put up a shield around the entrance. It would at least buy him time, just in case.

When someone tried to open the door late that night, he was glad he'd listened to his gut. When the door didn't open right away, whoever was out there tried to force it. Tim swore, and was about to summon his sword again, when Marsh burst in from the adjoining room.

“Tim!” he hissed. “Someone's trying to break into my room!”

“Mine too.” Tim said grimly. He thought quickly. “The window, come on.”

He ushered Marsh out first, who dropped carefully into the back garden, and was about to follow, when something caught his attention.

The shield he'd put up around the door was glowing, and he could hear chanting from the hallway. Someone was trying to counteract his spell.

“Shit.”

He heard the door give way as he dropped down beside Marsh. “Run!” he ordered, pushing the man ahead of him.

“Run where?!” Marsh sounded panicked. “Our car's in the shop and do you know how far it is to the next town?”

“Let's start with, away, and then figure out the rest when we get there.”

They dashed into the night, and Marsh finally noticed that Tim was armed. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“Long story.” One they didn't have time for just now. He could hear sounds of pursuit already. As they passed a woodpile, Marsh grabbed a stout stick. It was better than nothing.

Tim had a vague plan to get out into the woods and then call Portalocity. And then buy Marsh a drink as he explained all this as best he could.

“Look out!” Marsh shouted suddenly, looking into a nearby ally, his eyes wide. Tim looked, and Marsh smashed him in the back of the neck with his club. “I said look out.”

Tim woke with a start, and a strangled gasp, jerking up in his seat. Which scared a short yelp from the man sitting next to him. Marsh, a fellow American student looked around embarrassed. None of the other passengers seemed to have noticed anything, so he turned to Tim.

"What was that?" he asked. "You scared the bejabbers out of me."

Tim honestly wasn't sure. He had a vague recollection of a nightmare, but it was fading quickly. He rubbed his face to further wake himself up. "Sorry. Uh, falling dream."

Marsh winced. "Oh I hate those. Heights." He shuddered. "Anyway it looks like we're here." The poor guy had some trouble maneuvering his bags and himself out the door, and might have fallen out had Tim not caught him.

"Thanks."

"All part of the service. Now. I suppose it's too late to check in at the University, but I've got a line on a decent bed and breakfast in town."

"That's good. But I've got an uncle putting me up tonight. I suppose I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah probably. Nice meeting you Barney."

"You too Tim." As Marsh headed off, lugging his bags and searching for a familiar face, Tim heard him start lecturing to himself. "Not really an Uncle though. More like a fourth cousin or something. Twice removed I think..."

Tim shook his head, amused. Then he sent Gwynn a text informing her he'd arrived safely, and found an out of the way spot to catch a portal to Teleri and Runyon's place.

"Good news everyone! The day we have all awaited, some of us more patiently than others will soon be upon us! The Great Alignment! Yes, soon, the worlds will align, our great island will rise from the hidden depths, Mother Domnu shall be released from her eternal exile, and once again the Fomors shall walk upon the land!!

"Let's see, what else...

"Oh yes, Nigel and Enid would like to invite everybody to their home next weekend for a special tea. They've just completed all the improvements and are eager show off a little. Lunch will of course be served, but it is B.Y.O.B.

"And lastly, if anyone has found, or should find, a blue walkman radio, please let Rupert Elton know."

Neil hat taken to calling their apartment in London The Flat. As if he was trying to remind himself what Brits called them.

Tim didn't usually worry about that. He was a Yank, studying abroad. As one of his classmates had said "tell them you're American, they won't expect as much".

He conformed in a lot of ways, but felt that abandoning slang deliberately was too much effort. If he started calling it The Flat, rather than the apartment, naturally, then so be it.

He had in fact been calling fries, chips, for some time now.

In any case that wasn't what he was pondering right now. He'd begun the final year of his schooling, and he had some pretty big decisions to make. He could, go for a higher degree, or attempt to venture out into the world to make his fortune. Of course with an advanced degree in Mythology and Folklore he didn't think there were many options employment-wise.

But then, he suspected he'd reached the point in his life, where such decisions were not for him alone. There was one other very important matter. And she'd played such a vital role in his life so far, that he figured it was time to consult her on such matters.

[For the girlfriend.]

The road to hell was paved with good intentions, that's what they said. well Tim didn't know about that, but this hangover seemed to be a good metaphor for that. Some well meaning Fae had slipped some human spirits into the course of drinks the night before. Elven wine didn't come with hangovers.

By the time Tim stumbled from his room into the kitchen, it was much later than he usually liked to get up. Even on a Sunday. Actually he kind of liked the city on a Sunday. It was quieter than usual.

He drank five glasses of water, and one super sized cup of coffee before he felt awake enough to even think about what had gone on the night before.

There had been a few things being celebrated. Apparently the Fae were as passionate about Hurling as the Mortal world was about Football, and the local team had won the Hidden World Cup. Then there was toasting the marriage of Tim's mother and Faust, then something about the Superbowl.

"Hey." Neil yawned, coming in looking disgustingly refreshed. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Weren't you supposed to catch a train up north? Something about a big party or something way up in the ass of nowhere Scotland?"

"...Fuck."

[For the girlfriend.]

"I still can't believe you've never been here." Faust said, looking up at the statue. You've lived in New York all your life."

"That's why I've never been here." Tim said. "I hear that DC natives almost never visit the memorials." He'd been to Central Park fairly often, and the Brooklyn Zoo a lot. But the only time he had ever gone to any of the museums in Manhattan was on school trips.

"Have you figured out who your best man is gonna be yet?" Tim asked. Faust had not been surprised when Tim had had to turn down the offer.

"Yes actually. I've asked Neil. He was most enthusiastic."

Tim grimaced. "Yeah I'll bet he was. That bachelor party's gonna be scary." Not as scary as the likely hangover would be. He suspected that it would make him wish he hadn't woken up after being killed by Leda in the alternate Fandom.