Faekind
Fae encompasses, fairies, pixies, gnomes, sprites and more.
Contents
1. Background
1.1 Creation Theories
1.2 Documented Sightings
1.4 Fae Culture
2. Division of the Fairer Lands
1.1 Heldi’ethir
1.2 Forban’ethir
3. The Fae Courts
3.1 The Lucent Court
3.2 The Vernal Court
3.3 The Untamed Court
3.4 The Hibernal Court
3.5 The Veiled Court
4. A Brief History
4.1 yuh
5. Farzaad and the Five Courts
5.1 Story
Background
Creation Theories
If Elves were created from the refraction of light upon the world, and Humans were created from the reverberation of song upon the world, then Faekind would be the Harmonic Overtones in the grand chorus of creation. They sort of just are and accidentally came to be.
This is directly opposite from undead and former beings, which came from the Discordant Overtones of the Lysi and their chorus.
Documented Sightings
Faekind come in many shapes and sizes. As for fairies specifically, it is documented within the ‘Creaturae en Patalia Mundi’ that fairies are, “habitually more benevolent than their pixie cousins; fairies are more humanoid, often with insectoid features.”
This is most likely to serve as a taxonomic rank and a field guide entry of sorts to those who encounter the general fairy in the mortal world, rather than a specific fae being such as a Kitsune, a Gnome, or especially an Archfae Lord.
*NOT to be confused with Pixies, which are much more plant-like and perhaps more animalistic in form.
Division of the
Fairer LAnds
Heldi’ethir — The Blessed Echo
The Lucky Court.
The first light of fae.
Spring, Summer, Light
Forban’ethir — The Cursed Echo
The Doom Court
The shadow formed from Heldi’ethir.
Fall, Winter, Darkness
The Five Courts of
Heldi’ethir & Forban’ethir
Heldi’ethir
The Lucent Court
The Lucent Court, born of Ze-Nyt’s light and Tra’zom’s beauty. It is home to all fairies, pixies, the luminous, and winged folk. Governed by the light of Heldi’ethir.
The Vernal Court
The Vernal Court, born of Geelanvie’s first growth, and remnants from the Grehn Viveleah. It is home to gnomes, sprites, dryads, and household fae. Governed by the light of Heldi’ethir.
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The Untamed Court
The Untamed Court, born of Drekk’s beasts and Agnidha’s unpredictability. It is home to kitsune, shapeshifters, and trickster beasts. Governed neither by Heldi’ethir nor Forban’ethir.
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Forban’ethir
The Hibernal Court
The Hibernal Court, born of Drukolt’s winter and Kroth’s keeping of threshold and stillness. It is home to barbegazi, ice spirits, and winter fae. Governed by the shadow of Forban’ethir.
The Veiled Court
The Veiled Court, born of Khiashba’s dreams and of decay. It is home to changelings, dream fae, nightmare fae, and uncanny beings. Governed by the shadow of Forban’ethir.
A Brief History
Fairy History
Extended history
Farzaad and the Five Courts
As told from the Lys Ursunga
Once, in the years after the Great Migrations, when the Ari Umani had spread, there was a mortal named Farzaad.
He was neither king nor priest, nor did he bear a sword of renown. He was a maker of small instruments: reed flutes, children’s whistles, and little bells whose voices could be heard only in quiet rooms. Yet Farzaad possessed two gifts rarer than gold. He listened before he spoke, and he remembered and kept every promise.
One night, Farzaad’s younger sister, Talimue, the most beautiful girl among many villages, fell into a deep slumber from which no healer could wake her. Each night she spoke in another voice, saying, “Brother, do not follow the road of lanterns. Do not eat the fruit beneath the silver branches. And do not tell your whole name.”
Their family wept, and their village burned herbs until the house grew thick with smoke. But Farzaad sat beside Talimue’s bed and listened. On the seventh night, when moonlight lay across the floor as spilled milk, a moth of blue fire entered through the window and settled upon her brow. It was then that Farzaad remembered the legends that had been passed down, and he knew that Talimue had been taken into the Fairer Lands.
Farzaad decided to save his beautiful sister, so he packed his cloak, a water pouch, a loaf of bread baked by his mother, three reeds from the riverbank, and a small bell of his own making. Before he departed, he bent close to Talimue and promised to bring her home. But he did not say that he pledged it, just in case he failed and so that the words would not bind him beyond what he could keep.
Farzaad found the first door to the Fairer Lands at first light. It stood in the circle of toadstools by the roots of an old willow. Upon those roots sat a woman in a gown of green leaves.
Her eyes were bright as mossy morning dew, and her smile was gentle enough to disarm a warrior. “Welcome, traveler,” she said. “Will you sit a while with me and share a gift?”
Farzaad eyed her curiously. “What gift is offered?” he asked.
“A cup of sweet water,” said the woman.
“And what return is desired?”
“Only your gratitude.”
Farzaad considered this. Then he took one reed from his pack and cut it with his teeth. Out of the reed, he fashioned a small whistle and set it upon the stone. “I accept the water,” he said. “But I shall return a song in kind.”
The woman laughed. She poured water into a cup of acorn-shell and gave it to him.
Farzaad drank only half, then tipped the rest into the roots of the willow. “A toast,” he said. “For the house that received me.”
The whistle made of reeds sang as the morning wind passed through it. The woman took the whistle, and the willow opened a door. And Farzaad entered the Vernal Court.
For three days, he walked beneath boughs laden with fruit. Gnomes offered him honey, and he returned the favor with a story of bees. Dryads invited him to dance, so he danced only until the song’s first refrain was complete, then bowed and gave thanks. Small folk in flower-caps asked whether he would sleep beneath their roofs, where no rain could touch him. Farzaad answered, “I thank you for the welcome, but I have not been given permission to stay in your home by the one who owns it.”
At last, the folk of the Vernal Court grew weary of finding no loose thread in his words. They showed him a road of white stones. “It will lead you to the Lucent Court,” they told him.
But the white stone road carried Farzaad into the Untamed Court.
There he met a red-haired man seated beside a fire, roasting apples upon a branch.
“Well met, traveler,” said the red-haired man. “You seem to have many crafts. I see a bell and good bread. Do come and sit with me!”
Farzaad took the invitation with glee, for his feet were very tired. He knew at once that this was no mortal traveler, for the fire gave no heat, and the apples cast no scent.
“Tell me your name, and I shall tell you mine. We shall be good friends, indeed.”
“I am called Farzaad,” he said.
“I am called Aodhán,” said the red-haired man. “Are you only called Farzaad?”
Farzaad considered this. “That is what I have offered to you.”
The red-haired traveler smiled. “Then tell me, Farzaad, are you going to the Lucent Court?”
Farzaad stared at the fire, which gave off no heat. “I am walking in that direction,” he said.
“Will you promise not to harm me?” asked Aodhán.
“I have no desire to harm you,” said Farzaad.
Aodhán frowned. “That is not a promise.”
“No,” said Farzaad. “It isn’t.”
Aodhán asked him again, “Will you promise not to harm me?”
Farzaad answered, “I will not harm you unless you first seek to harm me.”
And a third time, Aodhán asked, “Will you promise not to harm me?”
Farzaad looked into Aodhán’s eyes and found they were those of a fox, bright like fire. “For the third asking,” he said, “I answer plainly: I will not harm you, and I will not permit you to harm me.”
At once, the fire went dark. Aodhán became a great fox with nine tails, each tipped in silver flame. “How know you that the third answer must be true, and how know you that the truth need not be foolish?”
“I listen to stories,” Farzaad shrugged with a smile.
The fox, Aodhán, laughed so hard that the trees moved aside in embarrassment. “Go on, little bell-maker,” it said. “You have given me sport without giving me your throat.” Then it offered Farzaad a silver apple.
Farzaad bowed. “What is desired in return?”
The fox blinked. “Nothing.”
“Then I cannot take it. Nothing is given for nothing in the Fairer Lands.”
The fox considered him for a long while. Then it bit the apple in half and ate one portion itself. “Now it is shared,” it said. “And you owe me no debt.”
So Farzaad ate the other half and pressed onward.
Beyond the Untamed Court lay the Veiled Court. There, the sky was neither day nor night, and the road was made of sleeping faces. Off the path, Farzaad saw his sister, Talimue, standing beside a black pool, wearing a silk gown.
“Sister!” he called.
But she turned, and he saw that her eyes were full of stars. “Brother,” she said, “you have come too late. I have been promised to the Lord of the Lucent Court.”
Farzaad felt his heart grow cold, but he did not run to her.
“Promised by whom?” he asked.
“By me,” said Talimue. “I promised that I would remain here forever.”
“Did you make that promise freely?”
“I was given a cup of wine.”
“And what did you offer in return?”
“I said I would give anything to wake from my sorrow.”
Farzaad looked at the black pool. In its water he saw not Talimue’s reflection, but a thousand versions of her: laughing, weeping, old, young, crowned, buried, and sleeping beneath the earth. Farzaad had heard of this. The Veiled Court had not taken her by force, but had taken hold of a word spoken in grief. Farzaad noticed another woman standing beside the pool, robed in fog.
“You may have her,” said the woman robed in fog, “if you can answer a simple question. What is a promise worth?”
Farzaad thought long. Finally, he replied, “A promise is worth as much as the understanding of the one who makes it.”
The woman’s eyes sharpened. “Then you say her promise is nothing?”
“No,” said Farzaad. “I say a person who says ’anything’ does not name a thing. A bargain without a known price is not a bargain, but is only hunger wearing the mask of agreement.”
The woman’s veil of fog stirred. “Who are you to speak so boldly before the Veiled Court?”
“I am no one before your Court,” said Farzaad. “But I know that a promise must be heard before it can be kept.” Then he rang the bell he had crafted. Its note passed over the black pool, but Talimue’s reflection alone did not answer the sound. “It is true she accepted your gift,” Farzaad continued. “And she owed a return. But a return must be named, as I named a song for water and a story for honey. You cannot take a life from a word that does not know its own weight.”
The gown of silk fell from Talimue’s shoulders. She sank gently onto the shore, sleeping as she had slept in her father’s house. Farzaad carried her from the Veiled Court. He was gentle with her and kept her safe from all harm, even though she was not all there.
Farzaad passed then into the Hibernal Court, where snow and frost blanketed all. There, the barbegazi looked at him from the slopes, and pale spirits offered him shelter in halls of ice. They offered to let him come in and warm himself, but no warmth came from the open doors of the halls. “What must I give for such hospitality?”
“We only ask you to stay until morning,” they said.
But Farzaad had the stories well in mind. For no true morning arrives in the Hibernal Court. So, Farzaad took his third reed and made a small flute from it. He played a tune his sister had sung when they were children, a tune about returning home before the first snow. The sound moved through the ice halls. The barbegazi began to weep, for they remembered springs they had never seen.
At last, the eldest among them said, “You may pass. But please, oh please, leave us the song!”
Farzaad answered, “I will leave you the song if you promise to sing it only for those who seek shelter, and never to keep a traveler past the road’s true morning.”
The elder barbegazi gave its promise once, twice, and even thrice. Thus, the Hibernal Court opened its white gate, and Farzaad came at last to the Lucent Court.
Within the Lucent Court stood towers of glass and gold, rising among clouds bright as feathers. In the highest hall sat the Archfae Lord, whose beauty was such that no one could deny he was descended from a Vaelhyri. Around him gathered winged folk, bright spirits, and fairies crowned with dawn.
At the Lord’s right hand lay Talimue’s shadow, folded small as a sleeping bird. “Farzaad,” said the Archfae Lord. “You have come through five courts and have neither been trapped, devoured, crowned, nor turned into a tree. You must be very clever. Why have you come?”
“My sister’s shadow,” said Farzaad, with great confidence.
The Archfae Lord smiled. “You may have it if you give me your finest craft.”
Farzaad placed his little bell upon the floor. “This is my finest bell.”
The Archfae Lord scoffed. “It is a poor thing.”
“It is the finest bell I possess.”
The Lord leaned forward. “And if I demand a better one?”
“Then you may demand it,” said Farzaad. “But I have promised no such thing.”
A hush fell over the hall. The Archfae Lord looked at the bell, then at Farzaad, and then at the sleeping shadow beside him. “You have not asked my name,” he said.
“Nor will I,” said Farzaad. “I have no wish to carry what I am unable to safely hold.”
The Lord’s expression changed. For the first time, something like respect passed over his face. “You have not begged. You have not boasted. You have not taken what was not freely offered. You have named every gift, weighed every debt, and spoken truth when a prettier lie would have served you better.” Then the Archfae Lord lifted Nima’s shadow and set it gently in Farzaad’s hands. “Take her,” he said.
Farzaad placed Talimue’s shadow upon her breast. At once, she breathed deeply, opened her eyes, and called him by the childhood name only she had used.
Together, they departed the Fairer Lands before dawn.
It is said that Farzaad’s little bell remained in the Lucent Court. It hangs beside the Archfae Lord’s throne, and it rings whenever a faerie tries to make a bargain whose price has not been spoken aloud.
