Trees (part 3b/9)
Title: Trees (3b/9)
Author: Fishgoat (capra_maritimus)
Rating: PG-NC-17 for the series, PG this instalment (for language and implied sexual situations)
Pairing: Billy/Dom AU
Disclaimer: I don't know these people, I don't own these people, I am not these people. This is all a product of my fevered imagination. Astrid (being an OFC) belongs to ingve9 and myself.
Summary: Dom and Astrid talk. Billy listens.
Notes: The original tig (co-authored by Pip of acroamatica, pippinmctaggart, myself and ingve9) is labeled Part 1.
[ Part 1 (tig)][ Part 2][ Part 3a][ Part 3b][ Part 4][ Part 5a][ Part 5b][ Part 6][ Part 7]
"Good morning, William," Astrid chirped, distractedly thwarting various plants and whatnot that were threatening to escape her battered basket while she slipped out of her wellies. "Glad to see you enjoying your morning".
During the course of her morning activities leaves had attached themselves to her thicket of hair in gravity-defying artistry, and the fabric of her floral print dress resembled nothing more than cheerful rags of spider silk and milkweed. The ancient beige cardigan she wore over it tried (and failed) to add a layer of mundane normality - Billy was nearly convinced he should be checking for the tell-tale points of elfin ears or the swish of a cow's tail at the hem.
"Oh, and for your information," she added, her bare feet sprightly stepping past Dom's head, "Something's burning."
"Shite!" Dom yelped and pushed Billy off him in rescue of their breakfast. Somewhat disgruntled, Billy picked himself up and self-consciously smoothed the fabric of his pants. Fortunately for him the softly muttering Astrid was far too occupied with her plant matter to take notice of any suspicious (and fading, thank God) bulges. He momentarily considered helping Dom, then rethought that insanity (he was woefully under-dressed to be messing about with bacon) and discreetly sat back down at the table.
Distracted by his self-consciousness, it took a moment before Billy noticed that the clatter of cutlery at the stove had stilled; curious, he glanced over to see Dom frowning in Astrid's direction. There was something about the set of her shoulders that wasn't quite right, and the rather vigorous manner in which she stripped the branches of their leaves may as well have been a severe weather warning. Billy was thankful Dom turned the stove off before making his quiet way to Astrid's side.
"What's going on?"
One last fistful of leaves was brutally crushed before Astrid answered. "Mr. Beckford was gifting me with a piece of his mind again. You know how he is." She waved it away tersely. A few more unwary branches were stripped, blindfolded and executed.
"It's amazing he has any of it left," Dom commented blandly.
The bunch of herbs in her hand was abruptly slammed into the sideboard. "Hellvítis rolluríðaris ógeð!"
Dom gently stilled her hands in his, eyes expressing his concern. That last outburst had vented most of her spleen - she deflated enough to grudgingly allow the solicitous touch of his fingers. A sudden flinch caught Dom's attention: he pulled up her sleeve and turned her arm over, hissing sharply. From where he sat, Billy could see the livid mark of a rather nasty bruise. "Hold still," Dom insisted as he examined her and checked her over for other injuries she might be hiding from him.
Billy looked at her questioningly, concerned but not wanting to intrude. "He doesn't like 'witches', is all," she remarked, and refused to say anything more about it. A sharp look warned them from continuing the conversation. Dom bristled but subsided, his outrage clear in his eyes as he retrieved the salve from one of the drawers. He applied it liberally, then covered the area with gauze and tape. Astrid sighed and patted his hand.
"You can't save me from every stone-throwing asni out there."
Dom kissed her forehead, a gesture more gentle than any Billy had seen between them. "I can try."
Astrid's lips twitched. "You even succeed occasionally." She pulled down her sleeve again, erasing the evidence. Her expression dared him to make anything of it; Dom slipped his anger behind a mask of indifference and helped her clear up the mess of mangled herbs. It took a number of minutes of patient work before the leaves were sorted in their proper piles. When she finally took in her surroundings, her eyes widened in shock. "You cleaned--"
Dom ducked his head sheepishly. "Yeah, well, we thought we owed you, so...." He grinned, brushing his hands free of grit. "Consider this a tiny down payment."
"Microscopic," Astrid agreed, nevertheless looking around her kitchen in delight. "You are still in my debt for that shooting incident. My floor tiles never were the same, after." She sniffed delicately and clapped her hands together. "And you burned breakfast for me. How thoughtful!"
"Au contraire, ma petite chou-fleur," Dom announced as he bounded toward the counter and a covered plate. "Eh hav saved your portion from harm. Voilà!" Dom removed the lid with a flourish to reveal bacon and french toast completely devoid of carbonization. He carefully set it down on the table along with her cutlery. "Would you like somezing to drink, demoiselle? Ve have ze tea and ze juice. Or der is ze water, if you would préférer."
Astrid looked at Dom closely. "You're different today."
Dom bowed and twirled the end of an imaginary mustache. "Eet eez ze accent."
Astrid rolled her eyes as she sat down. "Noooooo, I think not. And I'll have the tea from last night, not that black, rotted shite you two seem to relish."
Dom merely smiled and hugged Billy from behind. Billy closed his eyes and leaned back against him, warming to the scent of wildflowers and fragrant skin. The heat from Dom's body enveloped him like warm sunlight and he turned his face unerringly toward it. With a rub of his cheek against Billy's face and a wink to Astrid, Dom let him go and started on a new pot of tea.
"Fine, keep your secrets, then." Astrid remarked, then stopped short. "Or better yet, let's just advertise them to all and sundry," she said as she perceived Billy's state of undress, and, more specifically, the finger and mouth-shaped bruises scattered across his chest. Billy flinched minutely in the face of her scandalized look and ruthlessly pushed back the urge to cover his crotch with his hands.
"Sorry. I....Dom, where did you put my jeans?"
Dom snickered and pointed to the floor.
"Thanks for that," Billy snarked, grabbing his clothing. He noted with relief that none of the stitches had come undone and (wonder of wonders) the needle was still stuck in the fabric where he had left it. Billy quickly sat back down at the table - on the far opposite side from the coolly expressionless Astrid.
"Do you often do your mending in the altogether?"
"I am not entirely naked," Billy replied with great dignity (despite the faint burning of his ears).
"No, just mostly. Hardly proper attire when one is not in one's own home."
"I apologise for not thinking to bring a spare set of clothes with me."
"It's an actor thing," Dom remarked helpfully from the vicinity of the stove. "We're not encouraged to wear clothes much. Stifles our creativity."
Billy bit back an embarrassed laugh: he couldn't quite tell if Astrid were truly offended or just taking the piss. "What Dom is trying to say is that modesty can get in the way of our work so we learn to let go of it when necessary. Sometimes we forget ourselves," Billy shrugged. "We have to get measured for costumes, make quick changes in front of people...."
"Do nude scenes," Dom added cheerfully.
Billy choked at the memory of a younger Dom and a sound stage shower stall. He was now doubly grateful for the wonderful shield the table provided, though it did nothing to hide the flush of his face. "There's that."
"And you can breathe a sigh of relief that your new-found legions of fangirls will never, ever see your lovely arse in Trainspotting," Dom teased as he placed a plate in front of him, fully aware of Billy's recurring 'problem' and taking shameless advantage of the view from above.
"No, instead they'll see me 'abusing' myself in Sniper 470 come August. And they'll be able to buy a copy." Billy ignored his breakfast in favour of repairing his jeans (now held protectively over his crotch) as quickly as humanly possible.
"Really? You didn't tell me about that!"
"Yes, I did. I can't believe you forgot."
"Oh, I remember the night you told me," Dom leered, eyes twinkling. "I also remember that at the time it wasn't a firm thing."
Billy raised one eyebrow dangerously. "Are you mocking the glory that is my manhood?"
Dom spluttered. "That's not what I meant!" he protested as he sat down with Astrid's tea and his own slightly scorched version of breakfast. Billy's supercilious facade cracked, then quickly crumpled as they collapsed into giggles worthy of the average fourteen year old.
Astrid opened and closed her mouth a few times, then shook her head in disbelief. "Actors," she muttered and bent her head to her meal.
With profound relief Billy finally finished repairing his jeans and quickly pulled them on. Dom whistled and applauded at the sight of all that enthusiastic wiggling; he couldn't resist kneeling down behind him and running his hand along the seam (to make sure the stitches were holding, so he claimed). His hand stilled at the back of Billy's waistband, his cheerfully lecherous expression fading. Billy felt Dom's head rest against the curve of his back for a moment, and with a pang of sorrow he twined his fingers with Dom's.
"No more guilt, Dom, please," Billy whispered.
"Can't help it," Dom breathed. After a moment he cleared his throat and stood up, a determined smile firmly in place. "Let's check out your war wound, yeah?"
Billy let Dom guide him back to his chair and tried not to wince as Dom picked at the tape, then pulled the bandage off in one long, steady motion. The startled gasp made Billy look up.
"What? How bad does it look? Is it infected? Will I need stitches?"
Trembling fingers brushed the wound site. "No...." His voice shivered, rich with emotion. "Astrid...."
Hating the suspense, Billy reached up and felt the skin at the back of his neck and shoulder. His stomach flip-flopped at the familiar sensation of mostly healed skin. Disbelieving he looked at Dom, rubbing at the spot compulsively.
"Stop that," Astrid barked, slapping Billy's hand away from his neck. She moved closer to examine what was left of the bite. "Hmmm. Still needs a bit more of that salve. And a fresh bandage." She went to take her first aid supplies out of the drawer only to be stopped by Dom in full-on octopus mode. He held her for long moments, whispering 'thank you' in between gulping breaths. Astrid looked over at Billy, pleading for escape.
It was not to come. Grinning mischievously (and ignoring Astrid's panicked cry of 'nonononono!'), Billy gathered the two of them together in an even tighter embrace. More embarrassed than ever, Astrid started to protest noisily - or would have if Billy hadn't shushed her.
"This is how we say 'thank you', so stop your whinging and accept it."
"Mr. Boyd-"
"Hush, you infuriatingly stubborn woman." Billy's arms tightened, as did his throat. "Let me just say this, then: thank you, Astrid. Thank you for saving Dom's life. Thank you for sheltering us when we needed safety...."
"Thank you for healing Billy," Dom whispered into Astrid's hair, damp-eyed - then abruptly turned his head to sneeze.
"Thank you for not spraying mucous on my hair," Astrid muttered.
The laughter broke the intensity of the moment and the two men, after a shared glance, decided to let Astrid go, much to her relief. Billy cocked an eyebrow at her. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"I beg to differ, it was positively horrifying," she shuddered. Astrid smiled then, unexpectedly clear of cynicism. "And you're welcome," she added softly, distractedly plucking a stray leaf from her tangles before she sat down to finish the last of her meal. Nodding, Dom found the first aid supplies and reapplied the salve on Billy's neck (without the usual groaning and dramatic nose-holding for once) before replacing the bandage. Finished with that task they returned to the table as well.
Evidently Astrid didn't stay embarrassed for long; in fact, now that she was no longer at the mercy of the Lords of the Hobbitpile she looked positively smug. "See? I told you my medicinals would work."
"I knew that, really, but this is just incredible."
"And as long as he stops irritating the new skin, it will heal without a scar."
Billy ruefully lowered his hand from his neck in mid-touch. "It itches."
"That is normal. It will stop by tonight, assuming your Dominic can keep his bloody teeth to himself."
"Well, that's no fun," Billy mock-complained. Dom was suspended in mid chew, looking at once appalled, guilty and amused. Billy forestalled the burgeoning guilt-trip with a familiar elbow to the ribs, hoping for a glimpse of tongue. He wasn't disappointed.
Astrid put her face in her hands and shuddered. "I did not need to hear that, honestly." She deliberately placed her fork and knife onto her plate as a ward against further personal information. "So, gentlemen, what are your non-carnal plans for today?"
"We need your help," Billy admitted, glancing at Dom.
"So what else is new?"
"Billy's starting to see things."
Astrid looked at Billy. "Really?"
"And I need information. About Dom's family."
"Couldn't you just ask Goat Boy over there?"
"Astrid!"
Billy tried to phrase what he was asking for without sounding like a complete lunatic. "I-"
"You're looking for a magical solution to your problem."
Ehm.... "Yes, if there is one. And anything else that might help us. If I have to meet one of Dom's folk in a fight I need to know what I can do."
A slate wall polished to a uniform surface had more expression. "There's nothing you can do. Avoid them."
"How, if they refuse to leave us be?" Billy bristled. "We need more ideas than just 'Run away! Run away!'"
"I do apologise for not having more faith in your manly virtues, but 'Run away' is your best option right now, polliwog." Astrid frowned. "Let me think on that for a bit. We'll start with the easier topic of your visions."
Billy snorted. Easy, she says. "It happened twice. Once, last night, when I was upstairs with Dom-"
"Stop smirking, Astrid."
"Dom, ignore her, please. Astrid-"
"Hmph."
Like bloody children, the two of them. "Thank you. Last night, and again this morning." Billy took a deep breath. "We were lying on the bed, and I had the strange sensation of being in the forest somewhere. It looked like morning because the sunlight was just that exact colour and I could smell flowers - well, I could before so I thought at first it was coming from the window. And I remember running and the trees moving in time with the drums I was hearing - and I could feel the drums, too, in my chest. And then...then Dom caught me and I was killed somehow and my blood sank into the ground, but I still lived and my blood fed the trees, and then-" Billy shrugged to cover the censored bits. "I was back in the room upstairs."
"That was it?"
Billy lowered his eyes. "Pretty much."
"What was your mood during the vision?"
"Quite up, surprisingly. Joyful, happy (ecstatic, crazed he thought dizzily, fingers clutching at his leg), that kind of thing. Even during the death part."
"Hmmm." Billy got the distinct impression that Astrid knew much of what he'd left out, which was confirmed by a subtle waggling of her eyebrows at his glance. He found himself longing for one of those stylish tinfoil hats - anything to give him some privacy. When he saw Astrid's eyes widen slightly he decided to temper his embarrassment with a little fun. After a number of tries he settled on an image of him wearing a full-blown pirate hat crafted from foil (complete with a silver origami parrot perched on his shoulder). Astrid laughed merrily.
"Cheeky brat. Tell me about the one this morning."
A few select hand signals let Dom in on the joke; that resulted in him losing the mouthful of tea he was drinking. Astrid threw a rag at Dom while Billy repeated the story of the skull in the mirror, a tale thankfully devoid of adult material. It seemed less real now in the telling, here in her sunlit kitchen. He felt foolish to have let it upset him so.
Astrid's fingers played with her fork, twirling it around and around. She kept silent otherwise. Dom looked expectantly at her, but Billy felt himself become more uneasy the longer the silence went on. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and watched the reflections off the moving cutlery, motes of light flitting dizzily along the walls.
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"What does that all mean?"
"Damned if I know."
Dom nearly exploded out of his chair. "Don't play fucking games with us-"
"Wait just a minute, now!" Astrid held up her hands in protest. "I'm not trying to be difficult. Visions are very personal things. I could tell you what I think it means, but that may or may not have anything to do with how it relates to him." Astrid glared at Dom, who didn't back down so much as silently deign to let her explain herself. "I can make some educated guesses, but -" She shrugged and spoke instead to Billy. "Just remember to sprinkle any interpretation of mine with a little salt, hey?"
Dom's muttering about a salt lick being more apt earned him a lovely smack on the back of the head. "Quiet, you. I'm teaching."
Billy put a restraining hand on Dom's arm. "I'll chance your interpretation if you don't mind."
The back of Astrid's chair creaked under her weight as she leaned back, considering. "Actually, I think there are two things at play, here. You've had visions, it's true, but I think you are developing the Sight as well."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
"People do use the terms interchangeably, but I tend to differentiate between visions that appear in the mind, say, about the future, and being able to ...well, see 'with troll sight' is one way of putting it - seeing things or energies that are not normally sensed with the five senses but are there in front of you."
"Ok, I think I follow that. But I don't remember using what you call the Sight at all. The whole thing seemed rather surreal."
"You did, actually. Last night, when you could feel fur and horns on your young man there. "
Dammit! I didn't tell her that! But he gritted his teeth and merely said, "Yes," a hint of warning in his tone to not go any further.
Astrid sighed in exasperation. "I'm sorry this is disturbing you to talk about this. You think actors need to dispense with inhibitions? It is even more so for those of us who practice the old ways."
"But I don't-"
"Not now, you don't," Astrid agreed and continued before Billy could splutter further at that implication. "Cling to your childhood faith if you must, but you may find you'll have to bend or discard some things in your current world-view to deal with this. Something you've had to do a bit already, neg?" The look she gave Billy was surprisingly sympathetic. "Any road, let's leave that for now and start with the vision from this morning." Astrid cocked her head. "Are you familiar with the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight?"
"Er...yes...."
"Then you remember how the Green Knight had his head cut off by Sir Gawain and yet got up again, head in hand, and challenged Sir Gawain to attempt the same feat at the next Midsummer."
"Yes. I think I had read he was some kind of vegetation spirit or something."
"Right you are! In medieval artwork the Green Man or John Barleycorn is sometimes depicted as a corpse with a tree growing out of his head. In your case you saw vines coming out of a skull's eyes." Astrid took a sip of her tea.
"Vines with nasty thorns yet. So, what, this 'Green Man' is trying to scare me?"
"It's more likely that your fears are being represented here. Thorns can represent pain, obstacles, and something that won't let go, or defense against a threat, either real or imagined. The vine also has various symbolic meanings, which are often shared with the bramble. Besides the obvious ones of strangulation and clinging there are the more esoteric correspondences of strength, joy, exhilaration and wrath. There's also the visionary and ecstatic results of the ancient sacred use of wine, a liberation from inhibitions and restrictions that can hinder growth and change." Her knowing gaze studied him closely. "Were there any grapes or berries on the vine?"
"No, and no leaves, either."
"Hmm. A new seedling without leaves or fruit. Interesting that both your visions contain images from the Dying and Rising God myth cycle." At Billy's look of incomprehension, Astrid continued. "The Vegetation God who is sacrificed so that nature is renewed to bring forth the harvest. John Barleycorn and the Green Knight are two examples. There's also Osiris from Egyptian mythology, Dionysus from the Greek, Odin from the north. Even Jesus retains some of that mythic image, with the obvious phallic symbolism watered down to nothing, of course." Billy glanced over at Dom to see him tensely fidgeting with his rings. So did Astrid. "What?"
It took a few moments for Dom to gather himself to speak. "He's not going to be killed, is he?"
"Don't be daft. There are many kinds of sacrifice, most of which have nothing to do with physically dying. Time, choosing one path over another, letting go of cherished notions - the possibilities are almost endless. Acquiring knowledge always has some cost."
Billy let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. "It's 'The Road Not Taken'1, Dom." Smiling in answer, Dom reached for Billy's hand and held on. Billy's eyes may have been rivetted to Dom's face, but his words were for Astrid. "I gave up having a regular job to be an actor. I turned my back on a 'normal life' with a wife and family when I chose Dom. And now-"
Astrid sat back and grinned. "Now there's an interpretation that has some juice to it."
"But not much help in the short term." The sight of their clasped hands reminded Billy of why they were here. "If you don't mind, I'd like to leave this particular subject for now. I want to know more about Dom's people." Billy reached an arm around Dom's neck. "And Dominic here is going to tell me everything, isn't that right, m'lad?" he said, grinning, sliding Dom easily into a head lock.
"Oi, wanker, piss off!"
Astrid looked at Dom, one eyebrow raised. He sighed. "Go ahead. Say it."
"I told you so, heimskingi."
"Thank you, I feel so special now," he said as he pushed away Billy's arm. "And thank you for ruining that tender moment."
Billy patted his arm. "There will be more of them, my wee girl," he sniggered.
"Whatever you say, you cunt." Dom rubbed his hands together in a show of bravery. "So. Where to begin? Family history or battle strategy?"
"Dominic. Do you honestly believe that anything we could tell our babe in the woods here would help him in a fight?"
"Billy's got a black belt in Jeet Kun Do. That's got to count for something."
"He is human, and practically head-blind to boot. You know as well as I do that he may as well have a bulls-eye painted on his back."
"Then let's do something to change that!"
"Oh, now you decide to do as I had suggested months ago." Astrid glared at Dom. "I will help you as I can. Nonetheless, be aware that he will be ill-prepared to deal head on with this situation for a good long time yet."
Once again Billy gripped Dom's arm, forestalling another argument. "She's right, Dom."
Dom vibrated under Billy's hand, then all at once let go of the battle. He nodded sadly. "I'm sorry, Bills-"
"Hush, Dom. Tell me now. I'm listening."
Dom sat down and returned Billy's hand to his. He took a couple of breaths before starting. "Alright, so." He cleared his throat. "Once upon a time, there was a race of beings people called the urisks. I'll spare you the physical description-" Dom shot a dirty look at Billy's snickering. "Shut it. They were solitary folk, content to wander the deep forests and hills of Old Europe. They were strong and fast, and very nimble, a skill much needed in their domain. For while they easily crossed over the border between Faerie and what the humans called 'reality', they were, in fact, not magical in any way."
Billy couldn't have looked more skeptical if he had tried.
"Don't give me the Eyebrow of Doom, we're not! I mean...." Dom paused, hands gesturing in frustration. "To you we may seem magical, but we can't do magic. Is that clearer?"
"So you don't have 'powers', exactly? No laser beams shooting from your eyes?" Billy teased.
"Lucky for you, you bastard. The urisks did have skills, though, which I suppose would appear magical to the occasional ignorant Scotsman wandering by." Billy smiled as if to say Who, me? but mercifully stayed quiet. Dom pursed his lips and continued. "All fey have the ability to pass from their realm to the mortal one, which is really how they 'disappear'. Using this skill they can also 'hide' in faerie, almost like finding a little secret pocket of time and space." Dom faltered slightly. "And they're pretty good at keeping track of time between the worlds as well. Wouldn't want to miss a job or anything."
Billy filed away that moment of discomfort for future reference. "Handy, that. What else?"
"Urisks tend to be solitary, but they have a particular liking for human company. No one really knows why. I like spending time with people, but then, I'm half human myself, so that only explains me." Dom paused, biting his lip. "Um...people unfortunately tend to become quite frightened at the sight of a urisk and run away, which can be very frustrating."
"So a chase ensues."
Dom shrugged. "Sometimes."
The ghost of imaginary leaves brushed Billy's face in remembrance of the previous night's visions. "Sounds like it could be fun."
Dom laughed, caught by surprise. "Bloody pervert," he replied, with a whisper of heat.
Billy leaned closer, his lips longing to touch his ear, mouth almost close enough to kiss, to lick, to bite.... "You have no idea."
"Gentlemen."
Billy gasped, suddenly conscious of how close he had come to marking his lover right then and there. Slightly embarrassed, the two of them leaned slowly back into their chairs. Astrid merely waited politely, examining her nails.
Dom cleared his throat and continued. "In times past they'd meet once a year at a designated place, far from human habitation...."
"Does that still happen?"
"In a way." Dom looked down at the table, fidgeting with his fingers. "They used to gather in a corrie in early May to share news, meet with others," and here Dom's lips twitched, "Make new alliances. And when the moon rose...." He fell silent, lost in the memory of another world, a different time. When he spoke again the air was electric with the barometric drop in his voice. "When the moon rose, we'd dance in Coire-nan-Uruisgean, leaping high and proud, the sound of the drums intoxicating us. And the trees - oak and rowan and birch - would sway and move with us, and all manner of creatures as well - dryad and ghillie dhu and lesidhe - and we could feel the heartbeat of the Earth thrumming under our feet, and our life's blood rushed through us like liquid thunder." Dom smiled, his face alight. "We were at our most magnificent, then."
Billy listened, rapt, his mind reeling with the pictures Dom painted with his words. He could practically hear the rustle of leaves, smell the damp bark and loam and sweat, feel the pounding of the drums and the coolness of the night breeze off the nearby lake, its uncanny stillness mirrored in the grey rock along the shore. No surprise now that Dom had loved the forest sets of Closeburn and Mt. Victoria far more than the constructed realm of Fangorn. "Things have changed, since," Dom finished quietly, his rapture fading to a familiar melancholy that pierced Billy's heart.
"You really are immortal," Billy whispered.
"Eh...no."
The unexpected reply dissolved the enchantment that had settled over Billy, and he blinked to reorient himself. "Because you're half human?"
"No, no, none of my folk are."
"Thank the Vanir," muttered Astrid.
Billy stilled, utterly bewildered. "You're not?"
"No. I can be killed, obviously. I also age as you do, just much more slowly."
"How old are you, then?" Billy asked breathlessly, intrigued to hear the answer.
Dom grinned. "Not as old as all that. Maybe...hmm...no more'n eighty years. Lost track."
"I believe your age would be closer to 140," Astrid remarked.
"Really?"
"From what you described of your mother's clothing, yes, I'd say 'really'."
Dom noticed Billy practically vibrated in his seat. "Let me guess, you're itching to know who my real parents are."
Billy nodded. "Maureen and Austin do look like you but they're obviously not old enough to be your real parents. Or hairy enough."
Dom snorted. "You should see Matt's back."
Billy threw his hands up in mock horror. "Agh! No, not that!"
"No, no, seriously, Maureen is my grand-niece, my half-sister's granddaughter. Austin is her husband and Matt is their son, though we pretend that I'm their youngest. And, yes, they are completely human. Since I aged so slowly my family had to move around a lot to avoid gaining attention." Dom's gaze turned wistful. "I've had four 'mothers', actually. My real mum, my half-sister, and her daughter and granddaughter. As I got older it became easier for me to stay for longer periods in Faerie, and they told stories of boarding schools and whatnot. Now it's no longer an issue."
"So where does your uruisg heritage come from?"
"It was weird, really. My mother and father rang the stork, but on his way round to the house there was an accident with a time machine, a transporter and an inept furrier-"
"Dom...."
Dom sagged into his chair a little. "Well, that's a long and ugly story." He seemed to gather himself and started again, slipping back into the security of detached storyteller. "There was once a young lady of Clan MacFarlane who developed an unnatural fondness for a urisk lad, but both their kin at the time hated each other, including my father's brother's people, the bunch that are being right bastards to me." He abruptly got out of his chair and leaned on the kitchen counter, back to the others. "The lady, inexplicably pregnant and fearing for her safety, fled her home for Ireland, and the urisk lad disappeared, presumed killed by his own family." A small, anguished noise escaped his lips that might have been a laugh. "I'll have to tell you the details some time," he said.
"Tell me now."
Dom turned and begged with his eyes. "Please, Billy, just...wait a bit."
And Billy would have, gladly, were it not for the prodding of his instincts. "I can't let you off the hook that easily, Dom."
"I know. I know." He forced his breathing to calm slightly. "I need to tell you that part alone, 's all," he said, hugging his arms around his chest. Immunity to Dom's pain had never been one of his strong points - Billy got up and wrapped him in his embrace, silently assenting for the time being.
When Billy was able to lead Dom back to his seat Astrid brought her attention back to them. "Alright, let me try something. As part of your acting training, did you learn relaxation or concentration exercises?"
"Of course," Billy said, wondering at the non-sequitor.
"Describe one for me."
"Well, there was one where we sat or lay down in a comfortable position and, starting with the extremities, identified the unwanted tension in each muscle, then willed the muscle to let go and relax. This continued until one's entire body was relaxed. Then the same was done for the mind, you know, let the thoughts go until it was all quiet inside."
"That'll do. Go ahead."
"What is the point of this?"
"An experiment."
When no further explanation was forthcoming Billy sighed. Why won't you two just tell me what I want to know? "This is mad."
"If you can focus well enough to project pornography and tinfoil birds at me then you can focus on this."
Dom nodded in agreement. "Go with it, Billy. Pretend you're preparing for some weird improv theatre thing."
"You first," Billy remarked, closing his eyes anyway. His breathing deepened and slowed as he eased into the exercise, and to his relief his headache finally eased. Once his body relaxed, his awareness drifted into that focussed and calm state he found so helpful for his work. He felt himself become centred, poised, prepared for the call to action. Christ, I should have thought of doing this earlier.
He stayed in that state for a minute or so, enjoying the respite. Astrid's voice, when it came, was carefully modulated. "Now, open your eyes and look at me."
"Why do - oh fuck!" Billy exclaimed, his surprise sending his chair sliding back a few inches. Before him stood a tall, armoured warrior maiden, shining with power and wielding a wicked-looking spear. He wasn't reminded of Dernhelm (despite the obvious Viking era clothing) so much as a female version of Aragorn crossed with Gandalf the White, staff blazing in the face of horrible enemies. And maybe even a little Lawrence Makoare: she had amazing biceps on her.
Uruisgs, the Wild Hunt, and now a seven foot tall Valkyrie. Billy giddily wondered when the real hobbits were going to arrive.
"Astrid?"
The semi-luminescent Viking maiden chuckled softly. "This is the form I use when I work certain magics. I lowered my protections so that you might see." As if that wasn't surreal enough, he was now hearing her speak with the earthquake that passed for a voice, the one that had nearly made him wet himself at her door last night.
Billy nodded slowly, unnerved yet grudgingly fascinated. "Thank you, I think." He blinked once, then again. "Ehm...how do I turn it off?"
"Running back to normality so soon?"
"What use is a skill if you can't control it?" Billy asked pointedly.
"Exactly!" Astrid laughed thunderously, and winked at him. "And I'll even accept that as your reason for now. Close your eyes again," she instructed before Billy could protest. "This time imagine that the state you are in is like floating calmly at the bottom of a lake. Slowly feel yourself rise. When you break the surface, your sight will be back to normal."
In the space of three long breaths Billy completed the quick visualization. He blinked slowly and looked around him. Dom was grinning from ear to ear and Astrid was looking (relatively) normal again - and far too pleased with herself. She clapped a friendly hand against his arm.
"Not bad, not bad. We'll make a seiðrmann out of you yet," she said in her normal voice.
For no reason Billy could see Dom fell out of his chair laughing.
"I have no idea what you just said but I think I'll pass, thanks."
"It means shaman or magic user, more or less. Though in Norse culture it has certain...effeminate...connotations," she finished, openly amused by this point. Dom continued to express his merriment loudly and at great length. Billy began to anticipate the need for certain retribution - once they let him in on the joke.
"Such as?"
"The seiðrmenn were believed to practice sex magic from the...ahem...receiving end so to speak," Astrid chuckled. "They were much despised in the Viking Age, both for taking on the passive role during sex and for fighting with magic rather than with the warrior's art." She valiantly fought the battle to keep her composure - Dom (of course) wasn't even trying. "Sorry. To accuse someone of ergi, or unmanliness, was defamatory and thus considered grounds for mortal combat."
Billy slowly smiled, a calculated gleam of evil in his eye. "So what you're saying is that since you've just mortally insulted my masculinity I can kick your ass with impunity?" He stood up and leaned over the table, his weight on his hands, projecting threat and intimidation for all he was worth. "I think I'm going to enjoy this."
Suddenly Astrid was no longer laughing. "I meant it in a good way!"
Billy bent closer, green eyes glinting. "And what good way would that be, hen?" he purred, noting with satisfaction how flustered Astrid was becoming. He let her squirm under his gaze just a bit longer.
"I-I just meant that you have potential, that's all."
"Oh, he certainly does," Dom practically howled, dispelling the faint atmosphere of menace Billy was trying for. With an exasperated cry Billy shifted his attention, and as a result Dom found himself on the floor underneath Billy for the second time that day.
"Did you forget that I can do this?" Billy smirked, then experienced a sudden and profound reality shift as he looked up at Dom from his newly supine position on the hard floor.
"You forget," Dom whispered, licking a slow, volcanic stripe up Billy's neck, "Domhínithe is far, far stronger than you, human." His teeth firmly clamped onto Billy's neck and held him there in growling domination; Billy was unable for long moments to stop himself from arching in helpless lust. He clutched at Dom's powerful arms, begging him with breath and body to stop, to continue, to just fucking do something....
Astrid's eyes widened. "You...you....and...." She pointed shakily back and forth between the two men in shock.
Dom released a wildly panting Billy from his mouth and regarded her with Domhínithe's eyes. "He has agreed to try."
"I never thought-" She shook her head, then stared for a moment longer. There was a kind of bleakness to her eyes, yet her smile grew joyful in spite of it. "That settles it. You will get some proper training. And I know just the person."
Dom rubbed his nose soothingly against Billy's cheek before kissing him briefly. "Congratulations, Mr. Boyd, you've been accepted into Hogwarts."
"Beautiful. Any chance I could be sorted into Slytherin?" Billy gasped, struggling to get his breathing (and his emotions) back under control.
"I think you'd be better suited for Hufflepouf," Dom sniggered. Billy smacked him clumsily and pushed him away. Dishes rattled precariously as Dom, still laughing, bumped the table leg.
"Enough jokes, Dominic. I was thinking of introducing him to Alison."
Dom brightened at the name. "Oh, she'd be perfect. She's local, knowledgeable, a great teacher...." The grin he gave to Billy turned sly. "And she's very beautiful, too."
"Shut it, Dom. What kind of training?"
"For starters, you'll have to learn to move through both worlds just to keep up with him. Your Sight - fully trained, mind - will be helpful for seeing and evading enemies." Astrid warmed to the subject. "Glamourie can help you throw off unwanted trackers. Warding will help protect you and your home. She'll also be able to help you with your visions, how to interpret them and such."
"Sounds extremely useful, if somewhat improbable," he said doubtfully. He pushed away the sharp longing to magically make this all unnecessary. "She's not...ehm...mental, is she?"
Astrid guffawed. "Compared to what? You two?"
"U2's a great band!" Dom protested. Billy threw a bit of left-over toast at his head.
"Idiot. I mean she doesn't wear weird robes all the time or insist on talking to her crystal ball in full view of passersby, right?" He looked seriously at Astrid. "Can she be trusted to be discreet? We don't need any stalkers or rumours starting."
"I assure you, I do not associate with the insanely ridiculous. Other than for Dominic, of course." That comment earned her a repeat appearance of Dom's petulant tongue, which she ignored (and Billy regarded with some interest). "Alison is well skilled at living inconspicuously in the modern world. She has a flat, a car, a perfectly legitimate career in Glasgow in the arenas of ballet and theatre-"
The Penny of Realization smacked Billy square between the eyes. "Wait. Are you talking about Ali McKinnon, the dancer?"
"You know her?"
"Through a mate at the Traverse, and then only by reputation. She did the choreography for a show he was in. Brilliant work," he replied, a little bit dazed. Never in a thousand years would he have suspected someone so well regarded in the theatrical community to be involved in a sideline so bizarre, and that was saying a lot. Then again, he should probably look in the mirror. He mentally squared his shoulders and hoped the grapevine and Dom's opinion proved accurate.
"So you'll see her."
"I won't be back in Glasgow until November, and then only for a month. Would she be able to meet then?"
"Oh, I think there'll be no doubt of that," Astrid winked. "I'll ring her later and ask. In the meantime, let's see about some short term magical help for you." Astrid stood up and motioned for Billy to follow her out to the garden. "No, Dom, you stay here. No telling who's watching."
"Right," Dom replied and waved them out of the kitchen. "Behave yourselves!"
With renewed trepidation Billy followed Astrid out to the garden. The cats, thrilled at the return of their humans, curled delightedly around their legs. Billy waded through the felines and the calf-high grass after Astrid, who shortly led him to the Rowan tree behind the house.
"This won't be much - thanks for the short notice - but this charm can help you escape a certain amount of detection. You'll have to rely mainly on Dominic's speed and cunning, however. Evasion is still the best way to deal with his family."
She broke a couple of twigs from the tree, and muttered a few unintelligible words over them while holding them between the palms of her hands. She quickly bound them in a cross shape with red thread, then handed the charm carefully to Billy. "Put this inside your shirt pocket, or better yet, pin it inside your shirt against your skin. Well, when you can manage to wear a shirt, that is."
"That's it?"
"What were you expecting, pyrotechnics?
"Well..." He turned the cross over. He could feel a bit of warmth coming from it, or so he imagined. Probably. Uneasy, he put it in his back pocket under Astrid's amused gaze.
"You know, you'd do much better with all this if you'd stop being such a skeptical runkari."
"A what?"
Astrid looked coyly away. "Never mind."
"Did you just insult me? Again?"
"Maybe," she admitted, sniggering. But before he could protest any further she gripped his arm earnestly. "Stop believing in your own powerlessness. You can't afford it."
There were too many ways he could answer that comment, most of them uncomplimentary. Billy settled for shooting her his 'why am I listening to this crazy woman' expression and started back toward the house. As far as Billy was concerned it was looking time to leave.
Three steps into his retreat he felt his stomach lurch as if the ground had dropped out from under his feet. Astrid looked sharply out beyond the iron fence. "Let's get you inside," she whispered with a frown.
He felt the sudden zing of adrenaline in his blood. "What is it?"
"Inside, now," she hissed, insistently pulling him by the arm.
__________
To be continued in Part 4.
__________
1 'The Road Not Taken' - a poem by Robert Frost
Hellvítis rolluríðaris ógeð! - Damned sheep-fucking creep!
asni - ass
neg - no
heimskingi - stupid person, idiot
ghillie dhu - a Scottish fey who lives in birch thickets
lesidhe - a guardian of the forest taking the form of an owl, a wolf, foliage or an antlered figure. Also spelled leshy or leszi.
Coire-nan-Uruisgean - 'Corrie of the Urisks', a bowl-like depression (or a cave, depending on the translation) at the base of Ben Venue near Achray, Scotland
runkari - wanker
For further reading, a lovely Green Man/Green Woman article (complete with artwork from many famous fantasy artists, including Alan Lee) is here. Included in the article is a link to a translation for Sir Gawain And The Green Knight by J.R.R.Tolkien.
Author: Fishgoat (capra_maritimus)
Rating: PG-NC-17 for the series, PG this instalment (for language and implied sexual situations)
Pairing: Billy/Dom AU
Disclaimer: I don't know these people, I don't own these people, I am not these people. This is all a product of my fevered imagination. Astrid (being an OFC) belongs to ingve9 and myself.
Summary: Dom and Astrid talk. Billy listens.
Notes: The original tig (co-authored by Pip of acroamatica, pippinmctaggart, myself and ingve9) is labeled Part 1.
[ Part 1 (tig)][ Part 2][ Part 3a][ Part 3b][ Part 4][ Part 5a][ Part 5b][ Part 6][ Part 7]
"Good morning, William," Astrid chirped, distractedly thwarting various plants and whatnot that were threatening to escape her battered basket while she slipped out of her wellies. "Glad to see you enjoying your morning".
During the course of her morning activities leaves had attached themselves to her thicket of hair in gravity-defying artistry, and the fabric of her floral print dress resembled nothing more than cheerful rags of spider silk and milkweed. The ancient beige cardigan she wore over it tried (and failed) to add a layer of mundane normality - Billy was nearly convinced he should be checking for the tell-tale points of elfin ears or the swish of a cow's tail at the hem.
"Oh, and for your information," she added, her bare feet sprightly stepping past Dom's head, "Something's burning."
"Shite!" Dom yelped and pushed Billy off him in rescue of their breakfast. Somewhat disgruntled, Billy picked himself up and self-consciously smoothed the fabric of his pants. Fortunately for him the softly muttering Astrid was far too occupied with her plant matter to take notice of any suspicious (and fading, thank God) bulges. He momentarily considered helping Dom, then rethought that insanity (he was woefully under-dressed to be messing about with bacon) and discreetly sat back down at the table.
Distracted by his self-consciousness, it took a moment before Billy noticed that the clatter of cutlery at the stove had stilled; curious, he glanced over to see Dom frowning in Astrid's direction. There was something about the set of her shoulders that wasn't quite right, and the rather vigorous manner in which she stripped the branches of their leaves may as well have been a severe weather warning. Billy was thankful Dom turned the stove off before making his quiet way to Astrid's side.
"What's going on?"
One last fistful of leaves was brutally crushed before Astrid answered. "Mr. Beckford was gifting me with a piece of his mind again. You know how he is." She waved it away tersely. A few more unwary branches were stripped, blindfolded and executed.
"It's amazing he has any of it left," Dom commented blandly.
The bunch of herbs in her hand was abruptly slammed into the sideboard. "Hellvítis rolluríðaris ógeð!"
Dom gently stilled her hands in his, eyes expressing his concern. That last outburst had vented most of her spleen - she deflated enough to grudgingly allow the solicitous touch of his fingers. A sudden flinch caught Dom's attention: he pulled up her sleeve and turned her arm over, hissing sharply. From where he sat, Billy could see the livid mark of a rather nasty bruise. "Hold still," Dom insisted as he examined her and checked her over for other injuries she might be hiding from him.
Billy looked at her questioningly, concerned but not wanting to intrude. "He doesn't like 'witches', is all," she remarked, and refused to say anything more about it. A sharp look warned them from continuing the conversation. Dom bristled but subsided, his outrage clear in his eyes as he retrieved the salve from one of the drawers. He applied it liberally, then covered the area with gauze and tape. Astrid sighed and patted his hand.
"You can't save me from every stone-throwing asni out there."
Dom kissed her forehead, a gesture more gentle than any Billy had seen between them. "I can try."
Astrid's lips twitched. "You even succeed occasionally." She pulled down her sleeve again, erasing the evidence. Her expression dared him to make anything of it; Dom slipped his anger behind a mask of indifference and helped her clear up the mess of mangled herbs. It took a number of minutes of patient work before the leaves were sorted in their proper piles. When she finally took in her surroundings, her eyes widened in shock. "You cleaned--"
Dom ducked his head sheepishly. "Yeah, well, we thought we owed you, so...." He grinned, brushing his hands free of grit. "Consider this a tiny down payment."
"Microscopic," Astrid agreed, nevertheless looking around her kitchen in delight. "You are still in my debt for that shooting incident. My floor tiles never were the same, after." She sniffed delicately and clapped her hands together. "And you burned breakfast for me. How thoughtful!"
"Au contraire, ma petite chou-fleur," Dom announced as he bounded toward the counter and a covered plate. "Eh hav saved your portion from harm. Voilà!" Dom removed the lid with a flourish to reveal bacon and french toast completely devoid of carbonization. He carefully set it down on the table along with her cutlery. "Would you like somezing to drink, demoiselle? Ve have ze tea and ze juice. Or der is ze water, if you would préférer."
Astrid looked at Dom closely. "You're different today."
Dom bowed and twirled the end of an imaginary mustache. "Eet eez ze accent."
Astrid rolled her eyes as she sat down. "Noooooo, I think not. And I'll have the tea from last night, not that black, rotted shite you two seem to relish."
Dom merely smiled and hugged Billy from behind. Billy closed his eyes and leaned back against him, warming to the scent of wildflowers and fragrant skin. The heat from Dom's body enveloped him like warm sunlight and he turned his face unerringly toward it. With a rub of his cheek against Billy's face and a wink to Astrid, Dom let him go and started on a new pot of tea.
"Fine, keep your secrets, then." Astrid remarked, then stopped short. "Or better yet, let's just advertise them to all and sundry," she said as she perceived Billy's state of undress, and, more specifically, the finger and mouth-shaped bruises scattered across his chest. Billy flinched minutely in the face of her scandalized look and ruthlessly pushed back the urge to cover his crotch with his hands.
"Sorry. I....Dom, where did you put my jeans?"
Dom snickered and pointed to the floor.
"Thanks for that," Billy snarked, grabbing his clothing. He noted with relief that none of the stitches had come undone and (wonder of wonders) the needle was still stuck in the fabric where he had left it. Billy quickly sat back down at the table - on the far opposite side from the coolly expressionless Astrid.
"Do you often do your mending in the altogether?"
"I am not entirely naked," Billy replied with great dignity (despite the faint burning of his ears).
"No, just mostly. Hardly proper attire when one is not in one's own home."
"I apologise for not thinking to bring a spare set of clothes with me."
"It's an actor thing," Dom remarked helpfully from the vicinity of the stove. "We're not encouraged to wear clothes much. Stifles our creativity."
Billy bit back an embarrassed laugh: he couldn't quite tell if Astrid were truly offended or just taking the piss. "What Dom is trying to say is that modesty can get in the way of our work so we learn to let go of it when necessary. Sometimes we forget ourselves," Billy shrugged. "We have to get measured for costumes, make quick changes in front of people...."
"Do nude scenes," Dom added cheerfully.
Billy choked at the memory of a younger Dom and a sound stage shower stall. He was now doubly grateful for the wonderful shield the table provided, though it did nothing to hide the flush of his face. "There's that."
"And you can breathe a sigh of relief that your new-found legions of fangirls will never, ever see your lovely arse in Trainspotting," Dom teased as he placed a plate in front of him, fully aware of Billy's recurring 'problem' and taking shameless advantage of the view from above.
"No, instead they'll see me 'abusing' myself in Sniper 470 come August. And they'll be able to buy a copy." Billy ignored his breakfast in favour of repairing his jeans (now held protectively over his crotch) as quickly as humanly possible.
"Really? You didn't tell me about that!"
"Yes, I did. I can't believe you forgot."
"Oh, I remember the night you told me," Dom leered, eyes twinkling. "I also remember that at the time it wasn't a firm thing."
Billy raised one eyebrow dangerously. "Are you mocking the glory that is my manhood?"
Dom spluttered. "That's not what I meant!" he protested as he sat down with Astrid's tea and his own slightly scorched version of breakfast. Billy's supercilious facade cracked, then quickly crumpled as they collapsed into giggles worthy of the average fourteen year old.
Astrid opened and closed her mouth a few times, then shook her head in disbelief. "Actors," she muttered and bent her head to her meal.
With profound relief Billy finally finished repairing his jeans and quickly pulled them on. Dom whistled and applauded at the sight of all that enthusiastic wiggling; he couldn't resist kneeling down behind him and running his hand along the seam (to make sure the stitches were holding, so he claimed). His hand stilled at the back of Billy's waistband, his cheerfully lecherous expression fading. Billy felt Dom's head rest against the curve of his back for a moment, and with a pang of sorrow he twined his fingers with Dom's.
"No more guilt, Dom, please," Billy whispered.
"Can't help it," Dom breathed. After a moment he cleared his throat and stood up, a determined smile firmly in place. "Let's check out your war wound, yeah?"
Billy let Dom guide him back to his chair and tried not to wince as Dom picked at the tape, then pulled the bandage off in one long, steady motion. The startled gasp made Billy look up.
"What? How bad does it look? Is it infected? Will I need stitches?"
Trembling fingers brushed the wound site. "No...." His voice shivered, rich with emotion. "Astrid...."
Hating the suspense, Billy reached up and felt the skin at the back of his neck and shoulder. His stomach flip-flopped at the familiar sensation of mostly healed skin. Disbelieving he looked at Dom, rubbing at the spot compulsively.
"Stop that," Astrid barked, slapping Billy's hand away from his neck. She moved closer to examine what was left of the bite. "Hmmm. Still needs a bit more of that salve. And a fresh bandage." She went to take her first aid supplies out of the drawer only to be stopped by Dom in full-on octopus mode. He held her for long moments, whispering 'thank you' in between gulping breaths. Astrid looked over at Billy, pleading for escape.
It was not to come. Grinning mischievously (and ignoring Astrid's panicked cry of 'nonononono!'), Billy gathered the two of them together in an even tighter embrace. More embarrassed than ever, Astrid started to protest noisily - or would have if Billy hadn't shushed her.
"This is how we say 'thank you', so stop your whinging and accept it."
"Mr. Boyd-"
"Hush, you infuriatingly stubborn woman." Billy's arms tightened, as did his throat. "Let me just say this, then: thank you, Astrid. Thank you for saving Dom's life. Thank you for sheltering us when we needed safety...."
"Thank you for healing Billy," Dom whispered into Astrid's hair, damp-eyed - then abruptly turned his head to sneeze.
"Thank you for not spraying mucous on my hair," Astrid muttered.
The laughter broke the intensity of the moment and the two men, after a shared glance, decided to let Astrid go, much to her relief. Billy cocked an eyebrow at her. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"I beg to differ, it was positively horrifying," she shuddered. Astrid smiled then, unexpectedly clear of cynicism. "And you're welcome," she added softly, distractedly plucking a stray leaf from her tangles before she sat down to finish the last of her meal. Nodding, Dom found the first aid supplies and reapplied the salve on Billy's neck (without the usual groaning and dramatic nose-holding for once) before replacing the bandage. Finished with that task they returned to the table as well.
Evidently Astrid didn't stay embarrassed for long; in fact, now that she was no longer at the mercy of the Lords of the Hobbitpile she looked positively smug. "See? I told you my medicinals would work."
"I knew that, really, but this is just incredible."
"And as long as he stops irritating the new skin, it will heal without a scar."
Billy ruefully lowered his hand from his neck in mid-touch. "It itches."
"That is normal. It will stop by tonight, assuming your Dominic can keep his bloody teeth to himself."
"Well, that's no fun," Billy mock-complained. Dom was suspended in mid chew, looking at once appalled, guilty and amused. Billy forestalled the burgeoning guilt-trip with a familiar elbow to the ribs, hoping for a glimpse of tongue. He wasn't disappointed.
Astrid put her face in her hands and shuddered. "I did not need to hear that, honestly." She deliberately placed her fork and knife onto her plate as a ward against further personal information. "So, gentlemen, what are your non-carnal plans for today?"
"We need your help," Billy admitted, glancing at Dom.
"So what else is new?"
"Billy's starting to see things."
Astrid looked at Billy. "Really?"
"And I need information. About Dom's family."
"Couldn't you just ask Goat Boy over there?"
"Astrid!"
Billy tried to phrase what he was asking for without sounding like a complete lunatic. "I-"
"You're looking for a magical solution to your problem."
Ehm.... "Yes, if there is one. And anything else that might help us. If I have to meet one of Dom's folk in a fight I need to know what I can do."
A slate wall polished to a uniform surface had more expression. "There's nothing you can do. Avoid them."
"How, if they refuse to leave us be?" Billy bristled. "We need more ideas than just 'Run away! Run away!'"
"I do apologise for not having more faith in your manly virtues, but 'Run away' is your best option right now, polliwog." Astrid frowned. "Let me think on that for a bit. We'll start with the easier topic of your visions."
Billy snorted. Easy, she says. "It happened twice. Once, last night, when I was upstairs with Dom-"
"Stop smirking, Astrid."
"Dom, ignore her, please. Astrid-"
"Hmph."
Like bloody children, the two of them. "Thank you. Last night, and again this morning." Billy took a deep breath. "We were lying on the bed, and I had the strange sensation of being in the forest somewhere. It looked like morning because the sunlight was just that exact colour and I could smell flowers - well, I could before so I thought at first it was coming from the window. And I remember running and the trees moving in time with the drums I was hearing - and I could feel the drums, too, in my chest. And then...then Dom caught me and I was killed somehow and my blood sank into the ground, but I still lived and my blood fed the trees, and then-" Billy shrugged to cover the censored bits. "I was back in the room upstairs."
"That was it?"
Billy lowered his eyes. "Pretty much."
"What was your mood during the vision?"
"Quite up, surprisingly. Joyful, happy (ecstatic, crazed he thought dizzily, fingers clutching at his leg), that kind of thing. Even during the death part."
"Hmmm." Billy got the distinct impression that Astrid knew much of what he'd left out, which was confirmed by a subtle waggling of her eyebrows at his glance. He found himself longing for one of those stylish tinfoil hats - anything to give him some privacy. When he saw Astrid's eyes widen slightly he decided to temper his embarrassment with a little fun. After a number of tries he settled on an image of him wearing a full-blown pirate hat crafted from foil (complete with a silver origami parrot perched on his shoulder). Astrid laughed merrily.
"Cheeky brat. Tell me about the one this morning."
A few select hand signals let Dom in on the joke; that resulted in him losing the mouthful of tea he was drinking. Astrid threw a rag at Dom while Billy repeated the story of the skull in the mirror, a tale thankfully devoid of adult material. It seemed less real now in the telling, here in her sunlit kitchen. He felt foolish to have let it upset him so.
Astrid's fingers played with her fork, twirling it around and around. She kept silent otherwise. Dom looked expectantly at her, but Billy felt himself become more uneasy the longer the silence went on. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and watched the reflections off the moving cutlery, motes of light flitting dizzily along the walls.
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"What does that all mean?"
"Damned if I know."
Dom nearly exploded out of his chair. "Don't play fucking games with us-"
"Wait just a minute, now!" Astrid held up her hands in protest. "I'm not trying to be difficult. Visions are very personal things. I could tell you what I think it means, but that may or may not have anything to do with how it relates to him." Astrid glared at Dom, who didn't back down so much as silently deign to let her explain herself. "I can make some educated guesses, but -" She shrugged and spoke instead to Billy. "Just remember to sprinkle any interpretation of mine with a little salt, hey?"
Dom's muttering about a salt lick being more apt earned him a lovely smack on the back of the head. "Quiet, you. I'm teaching."
Billy put a restraining hand on Dom's arm. "I'll chance your interpretation if you don't mind."
The back of Astrid's chair creaked under her weight as she leaned back, considering. "Actually, I think there are two things at play, here. You've had visions, it's true, but I think you are developing the Sight as well."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
"People do use the terms interchangeably, but I tend to differentiate between visions that appear in the mind, say, about the future, and being able to ...well, see 'with troll sight' is one way of putting it - seeing things or energies that are not normally sensed with the five senses but are there in front of you."
"Ok, I think I follow that. But I don't remember using what you call the Sight at all. The whole thing seemed rather surreal."
"You did, actually. Last night, when you could feel fur and horns on your young man there. "
Dammit! I didn't tell her that! But he gritted his teeth and merely said, "Yes," a hint of warning in his tone to not go any further.
Astrid sighed in exasperation. "I'm sorry this is disturbing you to talk about this. You think actors need to dispense with inhibitions? It is even more so for those of us who practice the old ways."
"But I don't-"
"Not now, you don't," Astrid agreed and continued before Billy could splutter further at that implication. "Cling to your childhood faith if you must, but you may find you'll have to bend or discard some things in your current world-view to deal with this. Something you've had to do a bit already, neg?" The look she gave Billy was surprisingly sympathetic. "Any road, let's leave that for now and start with the vision from this morning." Astrid cocked her head. "Are you familiar with the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight?"
"Er...yes...."
"Then you remember how the Green Knight had his head cut off by Sir Gawain and yet got up again, head in hand, and challenged Sir Gawain to attempt the same feat at the next Midsummer."
"Yes. I think I had read he was some kind of vegetation spirit or something."
"Right you are! In medieval artwork the Green Man or John Barleycorn is sometimes depicted as a corpse with a tree growing out of his head. In your case you saw vines coming out of a skull's eyes." Astrid took a sip of her tea.
"Vines with nasty thorns yet. So, what, this 'Green Man' is trying to scare me?"
"It's more likely that your fears are being represented here. Thorns can represent pain, obstacles, and something that won't let go, or defense against a threat, either real or imagined. The vine also has various symbolic meanings, which are often shared with the bramble. Besides the obvious ones of strangulation and clinging there are the more esoteric correspondences of strength, joy, exhilaration and wrath. There's also the visionary and ecstatic results of the ancient sacred use of wine, a liberation from inhibitions and restrictions that can hinder growth and change." Her knowing gaze studied him closely. "Were there any grapes or berries on the vine?"
"No, and no leaves, either."
"Hmm. A new seedling without leaves or fruit. Interesting that both your visions contain images from the Dying and Rising God myth cycle." At Billy's look of incomprehension, Astrid continued. "The Vegetation God who is sacrificed so that nature is renewed to bring forth the harvest. John Barleycorn and the Green Knight are two examples. There's also Osiris from Egyptian mythology, Dionysus from the Greek, Odin from the north. Even Jesus retains some of that mythic image, with the obvious phallic symbolism watered down to nothing, of course." Billy glanced over at Dom to see him tensely fidgeting with his rings. So did Astrid. "What?"
It took a few moments for Dom to gather himself to speak. "He's not going to be killed, is he?"
"Don't be daft. There are many kinds of sacrifice, most of which have nothing to do with physically dying. Time, choosing one path over another, letting go of cherished notions - the possibilities are almost endless. Acquiring knowledge always has some cost."
Billy let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. "It's 'The Road Not Taken'1, Dom." Smiling in answer, Dom reached for Billy's hand and held on. Billy's eyes may have been rivetted to Dom's face, but his words were for Astrid. "I gave up having a regular job to be an actor. I turned my back on a 'normal life' with a wife and family when I chose Dom. And now-"
Astrid sat back and grinned. "Now there's an interpretation that has some juice to it."
"But not much help in the short term." The sight of their clasped hands reminded Billy of why they were here. "If you don't mind, I'd like to leave this particular subject for now. I want to know more about Dom's people." Billy reached an arm around Dom's neck. "And Dominic here is going to tell me everything, isn't that right, m'lad?" he said, grinning, sliding Dom easily into a head lock.
"Oi, wanker, piss off!"
Astrid looked at Dom, one eyebrow raised. He sighed. "Go ahead. Say it."
"I told you so, heimskingi."
"Thank you, I feel so special now," he said as he pushed away Billy's arm. "And thank you for ruining that tender moment."
Billy patted his arm. "There will be more of them, my wee girl," he sniggered.
"Whatever you say, you cunt." Dom rubbed his hands together in a show of bravery. "So. Where to begin? Family history or battle strategy?"
"Dominic. Do you honestly believe that anything we could tell our babe in the woods here would help him in a fight?"
"Billy's got a black belt in Jeet Kun Do. That's got to count for something."
"He is human, and practically head-blind to boot. You know as well as I do that he may as well have a bulls-eye painted on his back."
"Then let's do something to change that!"
"Oh, now you decide to do as I had suggested months ago." Astrid glared at Dom. "I will help you as I can. Nonetheless, be aware that he will be ill-prepared to deal head on with this situation for a good long time yet."
Once again Billy gripped Dom's arm, forestalling another argument. "She's right, Dom."
Dom vibrated under Billy's hand, then all at once let go of the battle. He nodded sadly. "I'm sorry, Bills-"
"Hush, Dom. Tell me now. I'm listening."
Dom sat down and returned Billy's hand to his. He took a couple of breaths before starting. "Alright, so." He cleared his throat. "Once upon a time, there was a race of beings people called the urisks. I'll spare you the physical description-" Dom shot a dirty look at Billy's snickering. "Shut it. They were solitary folk, content to wander the deep forests and hills of Old Europe. They were strong and fast, and very nimble, a skill much needed in their domain. For while they easily crossed over the border between Faerie and what the humans called 'reality', they were, in fact, not magical in any way."
Billy couldn't have looked more skeptical if he had tried.
"Don't give me the Eyebrow of Doom, we're not! I mean...." Dom paused, hands gesturing in frustration. "To you we may seem magical, but we can't do magic. Is that clearer?"
"So you don't have 'powers', exactly? No laser beams shooting from your eyes?" Billy teased.
"Lucky for you, you bastard. The urisks did have skills, though, which I suppose would appear magical to the occasional ignorant Scotsman wandering by." Billy smiled as if to say Who, me? but mercifully stayed quiet. Dom pursed his lips and continued. "All fey have the ability to pass from their realm to the mortal one, which is really how they 'disappear'. Using this skill they can also 'hide' in faerie, almost like finding a little secret pocket of time and space." Dom faltered slightly. "And they're pretty good at keeping track of time between the worlds as well. Wouldn't want to miss a job or anything."
Billy filed away that moment of discomfort for future reference. "Handy, that. What else?"
"Urisks tend to be solitary, but they have a particular liking for human company. No one really knows why. I like spending time with people, but then, I'm half human myself, so that only explains me." Dom paused, biting his lip. "Um...people unfortunately tend to become quite frightened at the sight of a urisk and run away, which can be very frustrating."
"So a chase ensues."
Dom shrugged. "Sometimes."
The ghost of imaginary leaves brushed Billy's face in remembrance of the previous night's visions. "Sounds like it could be fun."
Dom laughed, caught by surprise. "Bloody pervert," he replied, with a whisper of heat.
Billy leaned closer, his lips longing to touch his ear, mouth almost close enough to kiss, to lick, to bite.... "You have no idea."
"Gentlemen."
Billy gasped, suddenly conscious of how close he had come to marking his lover right then and there. Slightly embarrassed, the two of them leaned slowly back into their chairs. Astrid merely waited politely, examining her nails.
Dom cleared his throat and continued. "In times past they'd meet once a year at a designated place, far from human habitation...."
"Does that still happen?"
"In a way." Dom looked down at the table, fidgeting with his fingers. "They used to gather in a corrie in early May to share news, meet with others," and here Dom's lips twitched, "Make new alliances. And when the moon rose...." He fell silent, lost in the memory of another world, a different time. When he spoke again the air was electric with the barometric drop in his voice. "When the moon rose, we'd dance in Coire-nan-Uruisgean, leaping high and proud, the sound of the drums intoxicating us. And the trees - oak and rowan and birch - would sway and move with us, and all manner of creatures as well - dryad and ghillie dhu and lesidhe - and we could feel the heartbeat of the Earth thrumming under our feet, and our life's blood rushed through us like liquid thunder." Dom smiled, his face alight. "We were at our most magnificent, then."
Billy listened, rapt, his mind reeling with the pictures Dom painted with his words. He could practically hear the rustle of leaves, smell the damp bark and loam and sweat, feel the pounding of the drums and the coolness of the night breeze off the nearby lake, its uncanny stillness mirrored in the grey rock along the shore. No surprise now that Dom had loved the forest sets of Closeburn and Mt. Victoria far more than the constructed realm of Fangorn. "Things have changed, since," Dom finished quietly, his rapture fading to a familiar melancholy that pierced Billy's heart.
"You really are immortal," Billy whispered.
"Eh...no."
The unexpected reply dissolved the enchantment that had settled over Billy, and he blinked to reorient himself. "Because you're half human?"
"No, no, none of my folk are."
"Thank the Vanir," muttered Astrid.
Billy stilled, utterly bewildered. "You're not?"
"No. I can be killed, obviously. I also age as you do, just much more slowly."
"How old are you, then?" Billy asked breathlessly, intrigued to hear the answer.
Dom grinned. "Not as old as all that. Maybe...hmm...no more'n eighty years. Lost track."
"I believe your age would be closer to 140," Astrid remarked.
"Really?"
"From what you described of your mother's clothing, yes, I'd say 'really'."
Dom noticed Billy practically vibrated in his seat. "Let me guess, you're itching to know who my real parents are."
Billy nodded. "Maureen and Austin do look like you but they're obviously not old enough to be your real parents. Or hairy enough."
Dom snorted. "You should see Matt's back."
Billy threw his hands up in mock horror. "Agh! No, not that!"
"No, no, seriously, Maureen is my grand-niece, my half-sister's granddaughter. Austin is her husband and Matt is their son, though we pretend that I'm their youngest. And, yes, they are completely human. Since I aged so slowly my family had to move around a lot to avoid gaining attention." Dom's gaze turned wistful. "I've had four 'mothers', actually. My real mum, my half-sister, and her daughter and granddaughter. As I got older it became easier for me to stay for longer periods in Faerie, and they told stories of boarding schools and whatnot. Now it's no longer an issue."
"So where does your uruisg heritage come from?"
"It was weird, really. My mother and father rang the stork, but on his way round to the house there was an accident with a time machine, a transporter and an inept furrier-"
"Dom...."
Dom sagged into his chair a little. "Well, that's a long and ugly story." He seemed to gather himself and started again, slipping back into the security of detached storyteller. "There was once a young lady of Clan MacFarlane who developed an unnatural fondness for a urisk lad, but both their kin at the time hated each other, including my father's brother's people, the bunch that are being right bastards to me." He abruptly got out of his chair and leaned on the kitchen counter, back to the others. "The lady, inexplicably pregnant and fearing for her safety, fled her home for Ireland, and the urisk lad disappeared, presumed killed by his own family." A small, anguished noise escaped his lips that might have been a laugh. "I'll have to tell you the details some time," he said.
"Tell me now."
Dom turned and begged with his eyes. "Please, Billy, just...wait a bit."
And Billy would have, gladly, were it not for the prodding of his instincts. "I can't let you off the hook that easily, Dom."
"I know. I know." He forced his breathing to calm slightly. "I need to tell you that part alone, 's all," he said, hugging his arms around his chest. Immunity to Dom's pain had never been one of his strong points - Billy got up and wrapped him in his embrace, silently assenting for the time being.
When Billy was able to lead Dom back to his seat Astrid brought her attention back to them. "Alright, let me try something. As part of your acting training, did you learn relaxation or concentration exercises?"
"Of course," Billy said, wondering at the non-sequitor.
"Describe one for me."
"Well, there was one where we sat or lay down in a comfortable position and, starting with the extremities, identified the unwanted tension in each muscle, then willed the muscle to let go and relax. This continued until one's entire body was relaxed. Then the same was done for the mind, you know, let the thoughts go until it was all quiet inside."
"That'll do. Go ahead."
"What is the point of this?"
"An experiment."
When no further explanation was forthcoming Billy sighed. Why won't you two just tell me what I want to know? "This is mad."
"If you can focus well enough to project pornography and tinfoil birds at me then you can focus on this."
Dom nodded in agreement. "Go with it, Billy. Pretend you're preparing for some weird improv theatre thing."
"You first," Billy remarked, closing his eyes anyway. His breathing deepened and slowed as he eased into the exercise, and to his relief his headache finally eased. Once his body relaxed, his awareness drifted into that focussed and calm state he found so helpful for his work. He felt himself become centred, poised, prepared for the call to action. Christ, I should have thought of doing this earlier.
He stayed in that state for a minute or so, enjoying the respite. Astrid's voice, when it came, was carefully modulated. "Now, open your eyes and look at me."
"Why do - oh fuck!" Billy exclaimed, his surprise sending his chair sliding back a few inches. Before him stood a tall, armoured warrior maiden, shining with power and wielding a wicked-looking spear. He wasn't reminded of Dernhelm (despite the obvious Viking era clothing) so much as a female version of Aragorn crossed with Gandalf the White, staff blazing in the face of horrible enemies. And maybe even a little Lawrence Makoare: she had amazing biceps on her.
Uruisgs, the Wild Hunt, and now a seven foot tall Valkyrie. Billy giddily wondered when the real hobbits were going to arrive.
"Astrid?"
The semi-luminescent Viking maiden chuckled softly. "This is the form I use when I work certain magics. I lowered my protections so that you might see." As if that wasn't surreal enough, he was now hearing her speak with the earthquake that passed for a voice, the one that had nearly made him wet himself at her door last night.
Billy nodded slowly, unnerved yet grudgingly fascinated. "Thank you, I think." He blinked once, then again. "Ehm...how do I turn it off?"
"Running back to normality so soon?"
"What use is a skill if you can't control it?" Billy asked pointedly.
"Exactly!" Astrid laughed thunderously, and winked at him. "And I'll even accept that as your reason for now. Close your eyes again," she instructed before Billy could protest. "This time imagine that the state you are in is like floating calmly at the bottom of a lake. Slowly feel yourself rise. When you break the surface, your sight will be back to normal."
In the space of three long breaths Billy completed the quick visualization. He blinked slowly and looked around him. Dom was grinning from ear to ear and Astrid was looking (relatively) normal again - and far too pleased with herself. She clapped a friendly hand against his arm.
"Not bad, not bad. We'll make a seiðrmann out of you yet," she said in her normal voice.
For no reason Billy could see Dom fell out of his chair laughing.
"I have no idea what you just said but I think I'll pass, thanks."
"It means shaman or magic user, more or less. Though in Norse culture it has certain...effeminate...connotations," she finished, openly amused by this point. Dom continued to express his merriment loudly and at great length. Billy began to anticipate the need for certain retribution - once they let him in on the joke.
"Such as?"
"The seiðrmenn were believed to practice sex magic from the...ahem...receiving end so to speak," Astrid chuckled. "They were much despised in the Viking Age, both for taking on the passive role during sex and for fighting with magic rather than with the warrior's art." She valiantly fought the battle to keep her composure - Dom (of course) wasn't even trying. "Sorry. To accuse someone of ergi, or unmanliness, was defamatory and thus considered grounds for mortal combat."
Billy slowly smiled, a calculated gleam of evil in his eye. "So what you're saying is that since you've just mortally insulted my masculinity I can kick your ass with impunity?" He stood up and leaned over the table, his weight on his hands, projecting threat and intimidation for all he was worth. "I think I'm going to enjoy this."
Suddenly Astrid was no longer laughing. "I meant it in a good way!"
Billy bent closer, green eyes glinting. "And what good way would that be, hen?" he purred, noting with satisfaction how flustered Astrid was becoming. He let her squirm under his gaze just a bit longer.
"I-I just meant that you have potential, that's all."
"Oh, he certainly does," Dom practically howled, dispelling the faint atmosphere of menace Billy was trying for. With an exasperated cry Billy shifted his attention, and as a result Dom found himself on the floor underneath Billy for the second time that day.
"Did you forget that I can do this?" Billy smirked, then experienced a sudden and profound reality shift as he looked up at Dom from his newly supine position on the hard floor.
"You forget," Dom whispered, licking a slow, volcanic stripe up Billy's neck, "Domhínithe is far, far stronger than you, human." His teeth firmly clamped onto Billy's neck and held him there in growling domination; Billy was unable for long moments to stop himself from arching in helpless lust. He clutched at Dom's powerful arms, begging him with breath and body to stop, to continue, to just fucking do something....
Astrid's eyes widened. "You...you....and...." She pointed shakily back and forth between the two men in shock.
Dom released a wildly panting Billy from his mouth and regarded her with Domhínithe's eyes. "He has agreed to try."
"I never thought-" She shook her head, then stared for a moment longer. There was a kind of bleakness to her eyes, yet her smile grew joyful in spite of it. "That settles it. You will get some proper training. And I know just the person."
Dom rubbed his nose soothingly against Billy's cheek before kissing him briefly. "Congratulations, Mr. Boyd, you've been accepted into Hogwarts."
"Beautiful. Any chance I could be sorted into Slytherin?" Billy gasped, struggling to get his breathing (and his emotions) back under control.
"I think you'd be better suited for Hufflepouf," Dom sniggered. Billy smacked him clumsily and pushed him away. Dishes rattled precariously as Dom, still laughing, bumped the table leg.
"Enough jokes, Dominic. I was thinking of introducing him to Alison."
Dom brightened at the name. "Oh, she'd be perfect. She's local, knowledgeable, a great teacher...." The grin he gave to Billy turned sly. "And she's very beautiful, too."
"Shut it, Dom. What kind of training?"
"For starters, you'll have to learn to move through both worlds just to keep up with him. Your Sight - fully trained, mind - will be helpful for seeing and evading enemies." Astrid warmed to the subject. "Glamourie can help you throw off unwanted trackers. Warding will help protect you and your home. She'll also be able to help you with your visions, how to interpret them and such."
"Sounds extremely useful, if somewhat improbable," he said doubtfully. He pushed away the sharp longing to magically make this all unnecessary. "She's not...ehm...mental, is she?"
Astrid guffawed. "Compared to what? You two?"
"U2's a great band!" Dom protested. Billy threw a bit of left-over toast at his head.
"Idiot. I mean she doesn't wear weird robes all the time or insist on talking to her crystal ball in full view of passersby, right?" He looked seriously at Astrid. "Can she be trusted to be discreet? We don't need any stalkers or rumours starting."
"I assure you, I do not associate with the insanely ridiculous. Other than for Dominic, of course." That comment earned her a repeat appearance of Dom's petulant tongue, which she ignored (and Billy regarded with some interest). "Alison is well skilled at living inconspicuously in the modern world. She has a flat, a car, a perfectly legitimate career in Glasgow in the arenas of ballet and theatre-"
The Penny of Realization smacked Billy square between the eyes. "Wait. Are you talking about Ali McKinnon, the dancer?"
"You know her?"
"Through a mate at the Traverse, and then only by reputation. She did the choreography for a show he was in. Brilliant work," he replied, a little bit dazed. Never in a thousand years would he have suspected someone so well regarded in the theatrical community to be involved in a sideline so bizarre, and that was saying a lot. Then again, he should probably look in the mirror. He mentally squared his shoulders and hoped the grapevine and Dom's opinion proved accurate.
"So you'll see her."
"I won't be back in Glasgow until November, and then only for a month. Would she be able to meet then?"
"Oh, I think there'll be no doubt of that," Astrid winked. "I'll ring her later and ask. In the meantime, let's see about some short term magical help for you." Astrid stood up and motioned for Billy to follow her out to the garden. "No, Dom, you stay here. No telling who's watching."
"Right," Dom replied and waved them out of the kitchen. "Behave yourselves!"
With renewed trepidation Billy followed Astrid out to the garden. The cats, thrilled at the return of their humans, curled delightedly around their legs. Billy waded through the felines and the calf-high grass after Astrid, who shortly led him to the Rowan tree behind the house.
"This won't be much - thanks for the short notice - but this charm can help you escape a certain amount of detection. You'll have to rely mainly on Dominic's speed and cunning, however. Evasion is still the best way to deal with his family."
She broke a couple of twigs from the tree, and muttered a few unintelligible words over them while holding them between the palms of her hands. She quickly bound them in a cross shape with red thread, then handed the charm carefully to Billy. "Put this inside your shirt pocket, or better yet, pin it inside your shirt against your skin. Well, when you can manage to wear a shirt, that is."
"That's it?"
"What were you expecting, pyrotechnics?
"Well..." He turned the cross over. He could feel a bit of warmth coming from it, or so he imagined. Probably. Uneasy, he put it in his back pocket under Astrid's amused gaze.
"You know, you'd do much better with all this if you'd stop being such a skeptical runkari."
"A what?"
Astrid looked coyly away. "Never mind."
"Did you just insult me? Again?"
"Maybe," she admitted, sniggering. But before he could protest any further she gripped his arm earnestly. "Stop believing in your own powerlessness. You can't afford it."
There were too many ways he could answer that comment, most of them uncomplimentary. Billy settled for shooting her his 'why am I listening to this crazy woman' expression and started back toward the house. As far as Billy was concerned it was looking time to leave.
Three steps into his retreat he felt his stomach lurch as if the ground had dropped out from under his feet. Astrid looked sharply out beyond the iron fence. "Let's get you inside," she whispered with a frown.
He felt the sudden zing of adrenaline in his blood. "What is it?"
"Inside, now," she hissed, insistently pulling him by the arm.
__________
To be continued in Part 4.
__________
1 'The Road Not Taken' - a poem by Robert Frost
Hellvítis rolluríðaris ógeð! - Damned sheep-fucking creep!
asni - ass
neg - no
heimskingi - stupid person, idiot
ghillie dhu - a Scottish fey who lives in birch thickets
lesidhe - a guardian of the forest taking the form of an owl, a wolf, foliage or an antlered figure. Also spelled leshy or leszi.
Coire-nan-Uruisgean - 'Corrie of the Urisks', a bowl-like depression (or a cave, depending on the translation) at the base of Ben Venue near Achray, Scotland
runkari - wanker
For further reading, a lovely Green Man/Green Woman article (complete with artwork from many famous fantasy artists, including Alan Lee) is here. Included in the article is a link to a translation for Sir Gawain And The Green Knight by J.R.R.Tolkien.