He Who Keeps

She had loved her Grandmother’s stories as a child, regaling to her tales of fae and that which bound them. Like many her age, she had enjoyed playing outside, her feet bringing her to a long since overgrown garden, a small pond sitting within it. She had found within it a haven, her favourite being the winter months when it was frozen. Peering through the ice, the child pictured a world within, occasionally letting her imagination get the better of her as she envisioned eyes, piercing and elegant staring back up at her through it.

Come her sixteenth birthday she had found herself at the pond, water frozen over as she stared through it. Humming to herself, gazing into the ice as she imagined a world beneath it, the beings and creatures that she might find. ‘A trick of the light’ she had told herself when she noticed a small flash from beyond the frost. A deep breath and she had started again, her sounds changing to that of a gentle song, paying no mind as she heard the familiar sound of branches moving in the wind.

“You have a beautiful voice.” A jolt, as the voice came from behind her, low and melodious. Turning to face the newcomer she was met with a man, tall and lithe, blonde hair tied up around him and icy blue eyes almost familiar looking back at her. “Please. Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“Thank you.” Sending him a smile after all but a second.

“Perhaps you could indulge me in one more before I leave you be?”

“I’m not sure it would be best.”

“What harm will singing for a stranger do?”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

She had relented, voice picking up the melody once again, the man taking a seat on a nearby tree stump as he sat and listened, almost seeming to hum along, something that confused her as it was a song only her mother and grandmother had known.

“I appreciate it my dear, your voice is the most splendid I’ve heard in all my years.”

“You’re welcome and uh… thank you.” A small blush at his compliment had risen to her cheeks.

“May I know the name of the girl who sang to me so?”

“I’ve been told not to talk to strangers.”

“What harm is in a name?”

“You would know who I am.”

“I am not from here,” He had reassured her. “and I am leaving within the evening.”

“I suppose...” And so she had told him her name, a smile crossing his lips as he heard it. “And may I know yours?”

“I am known by many names, but my favourite is myself.”

With that he had left, a farewell on his lips as he smiled at her confusion, leaving her with her frozen pond. The maiden had sat for a moment before she had noticed it was nightfall, darkness surrounding her, but with a shake of her head, supposed that time had escaped her, and with the full moon shining above her, made her way back home to her family.

On her twenty-third year when she met the man who would become her fiance. He was kind and soft, courting her in the way she only read in her romance novels and she found herself head over heels for him, the two becoming engaged within their first year together. A winter wedding was chosen, and as it drew closer the pond had become almost a second home as she sat beside it, humming and singing the songs chosen for their union.

Two nights before her wedding night she found herself following the same path once more, shawl clutched around her shoulders, and finding the pond, she knelt down, knees sinking into the snow as the reflection in the ice showed her smile and the full moon glinting above her. As she stared, the young woman saw a glint and, thinking she saw eyes beneath her, took a closer look. With the wind blowing against her back, almost as if guiding her, she felt the chill of the ice upon her hand and, with no time to scream, she found herself falling. Awakening revealed the same grove, body now clad in naught but a nightgown, and an unnatural tone about the world around her as it also seemed to almost glow. A chill and horror seeped in as she realised her pond was now floating above her and, with no other options, she retraced her steps, finding her home standing where it should be, the colour now dim and washed out.

It was inside, across from the fireplace in a chair, that she had seen him. He was beautiful with something ethereal, skin a pale blue and hair as white as freshly fallen snow, almost glinting in the light and his antlers standing proud. Thin and tall, a robe clad on his body of a luxurious material she didn’t know, almost falling short in comparison to the man himself. A look told her all she needed to know, her Grandmothers words coming back to her.

“I made it all for you, you know.” He had spoken first, making her freeze in her tracks, his eyes drifting around the room.

“Who are you?” She asked hesitantly.

“I am he who keeps that which comes to me. May I have your name?”

“No.”

“No? I’d say that’s impolite.”

“So is meaning to take someones name. You may call me myself.”

“It’s no matter. Please, would you care for something to eat?”

“No. I’d like to go home please.”

“It is rude to refuse.”

“I do not mean to stay.”

He turned away from her then, letting her do as she pleased. She had tried to leave back the way she came, the veil now closed to her displeasure, and it wasn’t until days later he had spoken to her again, her form shaking, the numerous blankets on her body doing nothing to warm her from the cold she now knew, frost coating her skin and an unbearable thirst and hunger upon her lips.

“Please.” He had spoken her name then, a calm overcoming her. “Won’t you eat something?”

She had eaten then, the foods and nectar far sweeter and filling than any she had tasted before, sating her hunger in a way previously unknown. Fulfilling a need that was hidden within, it was then, that she felt that she had never truly known taste before, warmth began to bleed back into her, colour filling the world she was now standing in.

“You knew my name.” The woman, now satiated, asked.

“You have been visiting me for many a year.”

“How long have you watched.”

“Since before you came.” He had glanced at her. “You saw me before. When you were younger.”

“And you heard my name.”

“No, you had given it to me.” It was then she looked at him, truly looked at him and a horror filled her as she took in his appearance, a familiar set of icy blue eyes peering back at her.

“I would like to go home.”

“Yet you know you cannot.”

She had begun sobbing, clutching her hand where the ring once sat, the horror hitting her that the fae was right, family now something that would have to be committed to memory, the woman unable to see them or her fiance again, nothing to keep to remember them by.

“Forgive me my selfishness.” He moved towards her, hands coming to wipe the dripping tears away.

“Your selfishness?”

“I have watched you for many years, like those before you. You beauty and voice are enchanting… I knew I needed to have you. I couldn’t resist when I had the chance, not when there was a risk of someone taking you away from me.”

“You would doom me to stay here?”

“I would invite you to stay by my side.”

“You can’t expect me to accept.”

“You are here and I can only offer more to you. A lifetime of beauty, of never wanting, never ageing.”

“I despise what you have done to me.” The words were spat with a venom.

“Let me convince you otherwise.”

“With your...” Her eyes traced over his form almost in disgust, his ethereal beauty not lost to her as she searched her memories for the right word. “Glamour?”

“I could but I wouldn’t. You will stay, but without my sway.”

“You made me eat.”

“The frost would have killed you had I not.”

“Is that not better?”

“It is not, my dear.” He had spoken softly then, his eyes appearing saddened by her words. “Please, try to make yourself comfortable here.”

“...What is your name?” The question finally left her lips.

“It will do you no good now.”

“Then to make my stay easier.”

“I shall tell you when I marry you.” As the man spoke, she felt he was almost making her a promise and in a way she supposed he was, the word of a fae being their absolute law.

Now a prisoner, she had done her best to adjust, longing for the sun once felt and gardens once tended to, the Keeper’s home forever dark and icy. Despite the constant snow, the cold did not affect her as it once did, that which she consumed made feel at home and the gowns of luxurious fabrics he gifted to her did well to protect her from whatever chill was left.

The woman found herself sitting at the pond as done many times before, leaning up as she watched the world she had once known. She had watched as they had come looking for her, her screams bouncing off the ice as she called for them. Her grandmother had been there, a grim look on her face as she looked down through the water, the only one to seem to see her through the layers between them. The seasons changed and they had come to mourn her, her Grandmother oft staying back, visiting long after others had stopped, speaking to her and giving her updates, the stories of her family reaching her ears as they aged without her. Soon enough her Grandmother had also stopped coming, and the once betrothed woman watched as the man she was once destined to marry had proposed to someone else at the same pond she had shown him, marrying the new woman the following winter in that same spot.

Time moved and they aged whilst her skin stayed that of porcelain, soft and smooth, never marred by the cruel element around her. He had watched for first few years as she saw her once lover eventually bring his now wife and kids to her pond. They had aged too, the children growing and bringing their own families and as centuries passed she lost track of who was who and what families they came from, far too many of them now. The longing for home, the ones that she knew had lingered, but the cold had turned to a warmth over time that she had come to appreciate, the new children, strange and full of excitement playing just beyond her home.

As another dusk fell she found herself turning away to face him where he stood waiting for her at the edge of the clearing, as he on so many days, as beautiful as the day she arrived. The man seemed a reflection of the cold world around him, and she supposed in many ways he was, the snow silently dancing around him on the wind. She had stepped toward him, a nod as he outstretched his hand to hers, the soft smile sent to her displaying what could be recognised as love, something he showed his beloved in his own strange way. His hand, flawless in appearance, clasped hers gently as she placed it in his palm, an action she had accepted some time ago, when the years hadn’t blurred together.

“Let’s go home Ortivis.”

“Whatever you’d like, my love.”