The quaint farmstead before him a reminder of the many others previously visited to honour his duty. The lights of the home out, the occupants resting after another long and tiring day of labour. The nearby barn radiating healthy, stout animal life. The fields well-tended; the corn golden and ready for harvest. They could of course use help, unfortunately all able-bodied persons tended to their own survival first, taking care of their own home in this world before helping another.

All his long life he obeyed and followed the divinely decreed plan, losing count of the number of times in his long life he tended to his duty on behalf of the Goddess Mara, Mother of the Land. Troubled these past hundreds of years by continual failure and neither he nor his brothers knew why. Asking their Goddess, pleading in prayer only rewarded them with silence. They must continue, because their duty called and this in turn would allow them to prepare.

His footfalls silent and imprints absent upon the dew-covered ground while leaving grasses untrampled during the necessary trespass. Such the nature of his skill; such the nature of his race. Out of habit or maybe skill he gracefully crouched outside their bedroom window. Silence. He felt the minute life in the insects about him and the life of the two who slept within, on the other side of the thick wooden farmstead wall, the sole barrier between home and harm.

To the husband, Gloringas sent a glamour, a gentle reminder to sleep, slumber being of primary importance regardless of any … disturbance. The blood required for the glamour acquired two days previous from a ploughing accident, a minor incident to most farmers. The gash on his leg, which bled, needed bandaging, fortuitous and useful for the magic, strengthening the glamour many times over by utilising the man's blood, consumed upon casting.

The wife though couldn’t be forced, the Ancient Law required freely given consent. So, Gloringas called with song, gently waking and then drawing her to the closed and well secured window, convinced beyond doubt, she answered a behest from her loved one. This magic likewise fortified by the use of her husband's blood. Deep down the farmer’s wife would comprehend why, the song confirming purpose and spreading a calm within.

The wooden shutter opened slowly, the wife placing the cross beam against the wall. The farmhouse not only shelter, doubling as a fortification, the windows few, with the one door. The cellar access carefully hidden; the final place of refuge to huddle in hope, if the world above turned angry and against them.

The eyes of the farmer’s wife drank in the beauty of the legendary creature who magically seemed to appear, upon the return of her senses after Gloringas dismissed the glamour. She shuddered, her eyes measuring his beauty while she breathed in his presence. He represented life, new and enduring, fertility unquenchable. The ancient rhyme struck up within their minds a deeper legacy of memory and ancient pact reminding each of their purpose.

When the elf prince presents

he will seek your consent

to lay with you during his stay

returning after many a day

to claim the product

he cannot abduct

his promise of fertility made

the price fully paid

Unable to bear her husband children; she knew herself barren like many before her. She prayed at the Shrine of Saph to pass a message to the Goddess of the Elves for this day. Once a week, all Birth Season while visiting the village, she knelt in prayer, enduring the pitiful looks of her fellow villagers, suffering their snickering in silence. The Elf Prince of legend her sole hope and now he called to answer her plea.

Although the legend well known, he persisted in explaining, dismissing her protests, to fully detail the requirements for success. They would need to couple upon the marital bed, her husband lying beside them. The fertility magic would reside in their bed and only there would another child, or perhaps many, be conceived. The mother to be nodded, untying her smock, baring one shoulder and then the other, allowing the night garment to tumble to the floor. Eyes braving his beauty once again she stepped back from the window, permitting him entry until falling backwards across the marital bed. Gloringas scoped up the naked wife to lay her beside the sleeping husband.

The farmwife nervously looked across to her husband during the act, shedding a tear for unfaithfulness, shedding a tear for joy and shedding a tear for loss. The Elf Prince would return to claim the first child, all future children though would be theirs, such a small price to pay. Surely? Undeniable life overwhelming bloomed within him as they coupled, her body responded answering life with life, any previous cause of failure washed away in ecstasy and the marital bed imbued with the Blessing of the Goddess. She felt their shared warmth of pleasure and upon his leaving, her cold lonely guilt.

---

Gloringas slipped away, closing the window behind him, hopeful the farmwife would reset the cross bar. Again, like countless times before he would return after the birth to claim the child and hope beyond hope for success. Distracted by deep thoughts of doubt he failed to notice the presence of another until past their ambush position and vulnerable. Instead of attacking him with weapons though she assaulted him with words.

"You will fail again Elf Prince, as you have for uncountable years."

How did she know of his doubt, how did she know of previous failures? By starlight he observed her pleasant features. Pale coloured hair flowing over her shoulders, disappearing down her back. Buxom and full breasts, well-endowed then with the twin signs of fertility for those who didn’t know the truth of it. His assessment broken when she spoke again.

"Do you wish to know why you fail oh Prince?"

She stared at him, surprisingly unaffected by the awe of his presence, waiting for his answer.

"How does a young sapling of a girl know of me or mine?" questioned Gloringas.

"I do not know you by name, only by nature. I have only the history as written down by my ancestors to complete my knowledge," she replied.

While he pondered in thought, she took the time granted to carefully climb down from the tree she hid in. Her leather jacket and breeches well fitted, matching soft leather shoes, knife sheathed and strung bow in hand. Upon reaching the ground, she casually lent against the length of the bow, taller than her.

Watching her casually climb down and rest upon her bow, Gloringas unable to come to terms with the sight of a mortal so relaxed in his presence. It suddenly occurred to him to sheath his long, gracefully curved sword. The weapon drawn by his hand, after the first sign of surprise, pure instinct, taking up a fighting guard position to complete the response. Slightly flushed in the face he relaxed, his stance an overreaction and seemingly unnecessary.

"What knowledge do you offer me and mine?" Gloringas asked as he completed an admiring assessment of her. Climbing lithe like out of the tree she had availed him multiple perspectives.

She replied, "As I stated. Why you fail and will continue to fail."

"What price for this knowledge and what is the guarantee of its truth?"

"The price is you must couple with me, so I may bear a child - mine. The guarantee is your own vigilance."

At the sight of his shocked face, which she didn’t think possible, her face broadened with a smile, and a light laugh tinkled from between full sensuous lips.

She added, "You haven't exhausted yourself on the farm wife, have you?"

"No - no, I have not! I am fertility incarnate. I am always - how shall I say, able."

In spite of himself, feeling as if newly born, his strong pale face, red as he fumbled over the words. Why did she make him feel awkward, she a mere youth, he over two thousand years old! Did he misplace his wisdom, poise and grace?

"Well that is convenient then," her reply, deadpan and dry. She enjoyed his awkwardness, not for once believing such a condition possible in an ancient.

"You may call me Lacy if you like," she said, following up with further chat to keep him off balance.

Ignoring the triumph in her voice he collected his thoughts and advanced slowly towards his antagonist.

"What would stop me taking you now and doing violence upon you to extract the knowledge you have spoken of?"

She sprang back behind her tree and popped her head around the trunk and replied, "You may threaten, but I know your nature, like I have told you. I am not evil, so you cannot do evil upon me." The final few words shouted in joyous truth, again, her laughter rang in his ears.

She laughed with him though, not at him and he sensed the difference taking a small comfort.

“If I do couple with you, when would you reveal your knowledge?" he asked.

“When my child is conceived and not before." Her voice firm and her face losing all signs of humour.

Gloringas seriously considered her offer, such his desperation. What would be the harm? To know the harm, he would have to know more about her. Maybe he should ask?

"Tell me about yourself, I would not want my seed wasted." A slight barb; a small test to tease.

She expected the inquiry and did not rise to anger, having prepared and been advised to speak mostly truth. Elven Lords could flick lies from any speech and once broken; trust would be near impossible to regain.

“I am, as my mother before me and her mother before for, back to the beginning a shape shifter.” Her voice heavy with trepidation, her kind not always appreciated or welcome.

The Elven Lord folded his arms and a sadness rolled over his face. “I apologise for the ancient misunderstanding, Goddesses new to their divinity are inclined to wield their power excessively.”

Lacy let out a breath, never expecting such a concession, such an admission. Didn’t he fear his Goddess? Should she reveal a deeper truth?

“I am more cursed though, for I am a Descendant.”

Absurdly he smiled, before speaking weary words. “Being of your Goddess does she answer you when you call? My Goddess doesn’t hear me, and I would welcome her attention even her wrath. Nevertheless, I speak the truth, for I bore witness and know your line unique amongst all touched by the Seven Gods, not cursed, possibly misunderstood.”

Lacy swallowed, confirmation, absolute confirmation the Elven Lords existed from the creation of time, uncertain which of his two statements the most startling. Ignoring his question, she needed to push on, continue the rehearsed petition.

“War is coming, the Kings and the Dukes continue to jostle for power, while greater forces move against them. A Seer of Saph issued a prophecy, to save the world each God and Goddess needed to beget a Foretold, each a champion, to form a crew of seven and crusade against the ancient evil. Now is the time of the Goddess Bella, now is my time and I need to beget a child by an Elven Lord.”

Lacy held her breath, awaiting his response, his face difficult to read, plain and stoic.

Finally, somehow decided, he opened his arms and awkwardly approached. A mischievous smile graced Lacy’s lips.

Instead of falling into his embrace as expected the woman darted to the other side of the tree. Did she now change her mind? The use of force an anathema, consent paramount in any coupling and yet ... her finger plays with a pouting lower lip, while her breasts sway, the snug tightness now gone from her leather jacket unleashing their delight.

Gloringas darting to one side of the tree, she denies him the prize by dashing behind another. He pushes off from the false prize and reaching for a low hanging branch, swings abruptly and lands softly behind his prey, fingers flicking her leather jacket. Her laughter bright, alive and full of mirth as she reaches another tree after slipping away and peering around the trunk and perhaps deliberately fails to look up. His arms wrapping around the prize while descending upon her.

His chase of her developed an uncommon want in him followed by the rise of an unexpected lust deep within. A new feeling? Perhaps once known and now forgotten. Endless life and fertility incarnate, and somehow her mortality encouraged a life of living instead of a life of existence. Instead of an easy surrender to receive the reward, the game more important, chase, escape and finally capture. And after, when done, they lingered, touching and tracing their fingers across each other. A weight of loneliness lifted from him; his soul yearned for more ... play.

As the morning sun greeted them, he woke from his dream of bliss to finally notice his paramour as a whole and the change in her knocked the wind from him. He rose and stumbled away. Sensing his leaving Lacy searched for him in the dawn light, finding him, face taunt and drawn staring back at her speechless, regardless of her pleading eyes.

Lacy’s ears copied the proportioned shape and size of his, slightly extended and pointed, a true reflection of his own, her eyes elongated the colour of silver, her nose small and button like. Finally, her hair glowed, shining blonde locks radiating colour; much like his did when overcome with strong emotion, like now.

In a cautious whisper she said, “I thought to please you my Lord, not to offend.”

He stared remaining in shock grasping for breath after his brain desperately triggered an automatic response to force him to breathe. With will and presence of mind he stepped toward her, the grass beneath his feet crushed and bent.

“After so many humans I wished to be closer than they, when with you,” she confessed.

His steps heavy and forced, eyes half closed, nevertheless he didn’t run from her.

“I did not mean to replace any Elven maiden’s love you have with mine and I make no claim on you past this present time.”

Eventually he stood before her, his eyes inspected every line and curve of her Elven face. The intensity of his scrutiny intimidating and then as he framed his lips to speak, nothing.

Tears formed and Lacy couldn’t hold them back. The beauty of their night embrace now placed in such jeopardy by a foolish girl’s presumption, fully revealed in the warmth of dawn’s light. A shiver ran through her body.

Gloringas reached down to gently catch her tears on his silky soft index finger. Locking eyes, he smiled, warm and kind, reaching into and touching Lacy’s heart, instantly making everything seem so much better.

“I am not sure I should tell you this Lacy, my sweetest, sweetest embrace.” Gloringas glanced briefly to the sky and then back, locking eyes with her once again.

“On this world there are no Elven maidens, there never were any Elven maidens, you, as you are now, would be the closest I have ever been to an Elven maiden while in existence here.”

“None, never?” Lacy’s sole response at a loss for words.

“All the Elven Lords have never known Elven maidens, childhood or discovered the artisans who crafted our weapons and clothing. We all believe we come from the same elsewhere but have no memory of anything before awakening on this world and being greeted by our Goddess.” As he spoke the relief in his voice palpable. Like a family secret finally told which wanted or possibly needed to escape for some time.

“Gazing upon my first Elven Maiden’s face has been my greatest delight in two thousand years and I thank you for the privilege my special one.” His hands ran through her hair revealing her ears, parking the strands behind them.

“Know Lord, my true hair colour is midnight blue and only after many months of control did these blonde elven locks come about.”

“Well I complement the artist.” His hands liberally cascading through her hair in appreciation.

Emboldened Lacy continued. “Know also my shape shifting is much like a normal human’s ability to wiggle their ears or raise an eyebrow, except I can hold the change. My elvish ears gradually grew over night while I laid beside you while my breasts reduced in size almost immediately being by and large shapeless, if you wondered how they escaped capture to tease you.”

He returned a goofy smile. She raised her face to his and gently kissed him. This invitation to touch taken further and once again they intimately and lovingly embraced each other. Their pleasure lasting beyond dawn, well into morning.

The lengthening kiss of the morning sun on their bare skins signalled they must part and go their separate ways. Foolishly to break a silence Lacy revealed a further truth, demonstrating before her Elven Lord. Neither Gloringas nor Lacy looked back as they left each other’s company, to do so would have weakened their resolve and they both needed time to think beyond this single night.

---

Gloringas knew Lacy’s beauty now concealed the horror of a monster within. He fought beside a number of animal changers in years past, never one cursed as deeply as Lacy, the true meaning of Descendant fully revealed, a difficult understanding dawning upon him. Shapeshifter and Animal Changer in the one body. A knot of pity formed in his chest as he remembered her monstrous appearance. She insisted on a final reveal to prove trust, to show him her family secret. She didn’t look into his face, a kindness for them both perhaps, and in the end a sobering of his lust and desire for Lacy easing their parting, for him at least.

Unfortunately for Gloringas, the truth of his long life, a truth never proven wrong over the centuries, ugliness without, a sure sign of evil within. Lacy and her ilk the progeny of the betrayer Goddess Bella revealed by his Goddess and forever cursed as shape changers of various types. Tolerated over the centuries as one of the seven, their Goddess sworn to loyalty by Judge. Still, Lacy’s human-elven form proved the easier and more pleasant form to remember her by.

---

Gloringas searched for Lacy in the intervening months never once giving up, almost to distraction, earning the ire of his brothers. His insistence with her the question of their failure would be answered, of vital importance to them all. Nearer to the birthing day of his child he couldn’t travel far from the farmhouse, which limited his search range. Lacy warned him to be vigilant during the night, the daylight hours only remained his. After an extremely harsh Death Season only his concept of immortality and the unimportance of time passing kept him at his duty. He didn’t need to sleep, although on occasion he indulged as he enjoyed dreaming solely of Elven Lacy and these fanciful reminders forced him to continue the search. He discovered nightmares during his dreaming, where Lacy changed into her hideous monster form. Eventually deciding sleep unnecessary.

She promised to let him find her when the time right. He had laughed at her confidence, now forced to admit after many weeks of searching, her boast fact.

The distraction of Lacy and the single mindedness of uncovering the mystery prevented him from answering any other calls for fertility during this time. A feint whiff of guilt caressed his conscience, although no more, being dedicated to a more important task. His brothers attended to who they could on his behalf, shocked by his disregard of their Goddess’ will and eventually placated when the Goddess refused to answer their calls given his blasphemy.

---

The sunlight allowed him clear vision, superior hearing alert for any unusual noise and weapons within reach ready for battle. His sliver of a sword an ancient weapon gifted to him and not of this world. His bow grown from the One Tree, nature alive within and after a month of lying in a bed of dark, moist fertile soil within the Faerie Forest, nourished and strengthened to purpose. The bow wood knelt at his touch to allow easy stringing and once readied relaxed back into its deadly curved shape.

The afternoon sun gradually dropped to the horizon, the farmer followed his usual pattern and turned from the fields and the work they always held. He headed home to a wife heavy with child and near time. The farmer attended to his toil with a livelier step and joyful smile as the days passed, each marking time towards the day of birthing.

Sadly, this happiness wouldn’t last past the birthing day as Gloringas would claim his payment and after many tears the husband and wife would agree to try again.

He previously prepared the farmer's glamour from fresh blood to ensure its strength and potency. The farmer would believe his child dead, only his wife would know the truth, the additional burden also part of the payment price. Sometimes the loss proved too much, the husband rejecting the peace of the glamour demanding to see the body of the dead infant as proof. By this time the Elven Prince and the payment usually long gone, his residual echo being trouble and grief.

The farmer stabled the plough horse - Bill his name. Gloringas learnt the names of all the farm animals, and in fact, in spite of himself became part of the farm enjoying the simple observations of farm life. This livelihood vastly different from tending and nurturing the Faerie Forest, such a significant change, the first in his life duties for tens of years. Acceptance of this change gradual until a self-awareness occurred, accepting and simply glad beyond understanding. Only a small thing he reasoned.

A small boy ran down the path which connected the farm to the local village. The farmer returning from the stable, taken aback, agog. Gloringas also surprised, not by the boy’s sudden appearance, because the child who ran to the farmer, an unknown. Gloringas spent a significant part of the year in this quiet valley and he would recognise anyone from several of the nearby farmer families and most of the villagers by observation from afar, while searching for Lacy.

Rags barely covered the boy’s skinny body. The cause of the boy’s distress difficult to discern as the shadows of dusk concealed his face and for the most part, he cried without uttering a word of meaning. He ran too freely to be in any physical pain. So perhaps emotional pain? Loss of parents or siblings or both? The farmer listened and then without reservation embraced the child to provide comfort. The farmer’s arm around the child, they entered the farmhouse and disappeared from Gloringas’ view.

By day the Elven Lord could see by sunlight. By night the Elven Lord could see by starlight. At dusk as at dawn, a semi-blindness afflicted him and his brothers as the two sources of their vision exchanged dominance. Another sense, a recognition in truth and wholly unexpected triggered, the sentience of his own kind; the boy radiated faerie magic; he never thought he would detect such magic in another being outside of the Faerie Forest. The discovery distracted enough to prevent any chance of eavesdropping however slim the chance, once the boy quietened.

The routine of the farmhouse didn’t seem to change from the many other nights he acted as sentinel. The farmer prepared a meal eaten at the table by candlelight in front of a blazing fireplace for warmth and although Death Season finished many weeks ago, a cool breeze blew this night and searched for warmth to chill. A light moved toward the spare room and then after a short time returned and entered the main bedroom. Had the farmer put the boy to bed in the spare room? Then seen to his wife and joined her in their bedroom? Only firelight flickered within the farmhouse winking under the door and through various slivers in the shutters protecting the windows.

The night deepened and the farm slept. Gloringas approached the window of the main bedroom. His approach the same as before and a shiver of deja vu ran down his spine. He would look in on the main bedroom and then check the boy. The boy’s arrival the single change under his vigil, coincidence? He didn’t know for sure, even if he sensed a fellow spirit and needed to investigate, Lacy’s reminder to be vigilant ringing in his ears!

He identified the life forces in the bedroom. The three, mother, husband and the unborn child; at peaceful rest together. Nothing amiss, he crept around the cottage to the boy's room. He couldn’t feel the presence of a life within and as he turned the corner of the house, he straightened into a standing position perplexed. The window to the boy’s room wide open, the stout wooden shutter pegged back. A breach in the fortifications of the house! With no evidence of violence, the breach obviously worked from the inside. Treachery!

Quickly, silently and with little effort Gloringas dived through the window landing lightly on the floor of the spare room, empty bedding sprawled nearby. In the corner a cot made of rough-hewn wood and parental love, the farmer toiling all of one day until done. Gloringas closed the window shutters and secured them with the retrieved crossbar, found flung away from the house. In a couple of heartbeats, he cast a holding glamour on the window shutter as well, reinforcing the glamour with the blood of the farmer an occupant of the home. Anything or anyone who harmed or intended harm against the farmer and his wife would find the glamour especially difficult to defeat.

The door to the spare room closed; needed to be opened. Gloringas didn’t know how much noise this would create and very slowly began its opening. Closing the window shutter plunged the room into darkness, opening the door allowed firelight to spill into the room. His keen eyesight enhanced this meagre glow and allowed him to spy upon the open doorway leading into the bedroom of the farmer and his wife.

No boy huddled in front of the fireplace. The farmhouse consisted of three rooms and Gloringas had visited two of them. He approached the last with trepidation and mumbled to himself to relax; maybe the farmer and his wife called the boy to their bed to comfort him.

The end of the bed came into view through the open door. Ever so cautious, conscious of the firelight behind, he edged himself along the shared wall. Upon reaching the doorway he peered into the bedroom, his shadow stretching out before him, the end of the bed and the occupant’s feet under covers came into view.

Committed, he craned his neck around and into the room, gradually taking in the view. The boy knelt beside the bed. He expanded his view further by stepping into the room proper to scrutinise the boy’s attentions, his shadow crept across the body of the boy. As Gloringas observed him, the boy's head slowly drew back from the crook of farmer's wife neck, and slowly with a confident calm swivelled to observe Gloringas. Blood dripped from the boy's mouth, a smile forming laced with an evil glee. A slight trickle of blood trailed down the farmer's wife milky white neck, pooling to be soaked up by the bedding.

A wave of evil blasted over Gloringas as the boy child scowled. Hate twisting the face into an ugliness utterly repulsive and devoid of any childhood innocence, more a small bodied adult, wicked and malevolent. The sense of Faerie Magic Gloringas sensed within the boy overwhelming, in direct contrast to the evil vision posturing before him. Blocking the doorway with his body, a sleek, long curved sword to hand he prepared for the child of evil and his attempt at escape. The farmer and his wife slept on.

A malicious grin danced across the boy’s face and tilting his head upwards he mouthed a silent howl. With an excited glee on his face he resumed eye contact with Gloringas. During this time Gloringas considered the situation. While standing guard in the doorway, the boy wouldn’t be able to escape the room. Advancing upon the boy to strike him would permit the boy an opportunity to escape past him or do violence upon the innocent.

The silence over the farmhouse broke, a yelp of pain and a chorus of indignant howling echoing through the night. Gloringas smiled now, the backup plan evoked by the evil child a failure and the slight look of desperation awakening on the boy's face every bit satisfying. The time of secrecy over, Gloringas chanced a quick look at the fireplace and cast a light glamour upon glowing embers which filled the farmhouse with blazing light, the darkness routed. The farmer woke in a confused daze. The farmer's wife lay still. The light spilling in from the fireplace fully revealed the evil doings and upon spying the blood on the boy's chin and the blood trail on his wife's neck the farmer quickly roused to action.

Knife in hand the farmer charged around the bed focusing on the boy’s grinning face, taunting him. From where and the quickness to hand of the knife only explained by his desperate need to protect his wife and unborn child and the frustration and anguish he felt sensing he may have failed them both. The boy recovered from the dazzling light to meet his charge with a confidence that Gloringas thought impossible for one so young or maybe only young looking.