Temptations...part 1

                                   Temptations of the Fey Folk

                                        Part one-Ireland

"Mom, where's the box with my art supplies?" I called from upstairs.

"I think it's still in the living room, sweetie," my mom hollered back to me.

"Thanks," I said as I descended the stairs.  

When I found the box with my art supplies I decided to go for a walk around the village.  I had been on the countryside of Ireland for a week and hadn't done anything but unpack.

My parents and I had just moved to Ireland, home to redheads and four-leaf clovers.  I had finally finished packing and was ready to get out of the house, but not without my sketchbook.  My family moved around a lot because my dad was a famous photographer.  A company that publishes travel books offered my dad a lot of money to take pictures of the landscape, the people, and ancient ruin temples.  But why you may ask do we have to move around? Why can't my dad just take a trip here and come back home?  The answer was for reasons I'll never understand!

According to my insane parents, moving around is a good opportunity to see new, beautiful places and experience different cultures.  Admittedly, the places we've lived at are quite lovely; however, it is so not worth a coach plane ride sitting with a drooling old man!  I also hate having to buy dozens of "learn a new language" CDs to listen to on the plane ride.  So far I knew how to say "Where is the bathroom", "That one", and "My name is" in four different languages.

What really sucked was the fact that I was shy and had a tough time making friends every time we moved.  It also didn't help that most of the kids didn't speak English.

"Hey, mom," I said.  She was lazing on the coach reading one of her notorious romance novels.

"Yes?" she said while still having her nose in her book.

"I'm going into town for a while," I said.  "I'm going to try and make some friends.  Do you need me back at a certain time?"
"No, just make sure you bring your cell phone," she said.

"Ok."

I put my sketchbook, pencils, my phone, and some money in my purse.  With my purse dangling from shoulder, I strolled outside to see the scenic landscape of Ireland.  

The vast mountains were covered with forest greenery.  I glimpsed some deep, purple storm clouds rolling over the mountains.  Maybe it wasn't such a good day to go out. Nah.  The storm probably wouldn't make it past the mountains...I hoped.

As I wandered through the small town I saw many folk outside of their quate houses doing various chores.  One middle-aged woman was hanging clothes on a clothes line and a plump man was picking apples from one of the four apple trees in his front yard.  Haven't these people ever heard of a dryer or a store?  They were incredibly different from Americans.

In case you were wondering, yes, I am an American.  Unfortunately, I haven't been to America in years.  Of course I knew that not all Irish people lived like this.  This was just the countryside.

After walking for sometime, I began to see less houses and more shops and pubs.  There was a small restaurant with tables out front called "Where the Fey Folk Dine".  What the hell was a fey?  A group of people were gathered around the pub listening to a fiddler.  I sat down at an empty table and listened to the music.  It was a fast, catchy jig; people were dancing, whistling, and singing along to the familiar tune.  Even I, who hated folk music, could not restrain myself from tapping my foot.  He was quite good!  To kill time, I got out my sketchbook and started sketching the landscape. A few minutes later, a blue-eyed waiter with a ginger colored beard came over to my table.  

"What can I get you young lady?" he asked.

I hadn't even noticed the laminated menu on the table.  I took a quick furtive glance at the menu and ordered the first thing I saw.

"Umm…I'll just have the fruit bowl with a roll and a glass of water," I said.

"All righty, I'll be back with you order."

As I waited I tried to get a glance at the amazing fiddler.  I couldn't because he had his back to me.  All I could tell was that he had black hair and was wearing baggy jeans and a muscle shirt.  His arms were well built so I figured he couldn't be any older than 30.

I looked at my drawing and realized it needed some life to it.  I added a fiddler, some wild flowers, and a crescent moon in the background.  After working on it I still wasn't satisfied.  I finally put a young girl staring longingly at the fiddler.  I called it "Temptations of Music".

Some minutes later, the waiter came back with my meal.  "Here you go," he said.

"Thanks."

"Anytime," he said.  "Say, I've never seen you around before.  I would say you were a tourist, but usually tourists don't come to this part of the country."

"I just moved here with my parents," I replied.

"What's your name?"

"Leslie."

"I'm Rob," he said while putting out his hand. I shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Rob," I said politely.  "Rob, I was wondering; what exactly is a fey?"

"You mean who."

"Umm…Pardon?" I said confused.

"The Fey Folk," he began.  "Are people.  Magical beings that do good and bad things.  They are what you would call faeries."

"Faeries?" I said realizing that I was having a pleasant conversation with a complete nut job.  Great!

"Yes," Rob said.  "If you are good to them they will grant you with good fortune.  But if you anger them there is a good chance you will live a short life."

"Right," I said.  And out of burning curiosity I asked, "Who is the talented fiddler?"

"That's Liam," Rob in an almost loathing voice.  "You best stay away from him.  Damn boy coming to my pub.  The only reason I don't chase him out of here is because of the business he brings with that fiddle."

"Why?" I asked.  "What's wrong with him?"

"His eyes are too green and he plays that fiddle o' his too good," Rob said outlandishly.  "He is like the fey.  Their kin, that's what he is!"

"I don't understand," I said.  "If you hate the fey so much why would you name a restaurant 'Where the Fey Folk Dine'?"  This man made no sense what-so-ever!

"It makes them happy," he said.  "They make the food richer and protect us."   I then noticed him eyeing my sketchbook.

"Do you know what a muse is?"

I nodded; I only knew because of a brief lesson on the Odyssey in ninth grade English class.

"Well, there is a faerie like a muse called the Leanan Sidhe," Rob said in a serious voice.  "She is a seductive creature that inspires artists.  Those unfortunate artists create stunning masterpieces and end up dying young.  It is believed that she sucks out their souls."  

"Really?" I said with a huge urge to leave and find some sane people.

"Yes," he said while still glaring at my sketchbook.  "I suggest you wear some metal jewelry; steal or iron would be more preferable.  And get some salt and holy water."

"I'll do that," I lied.

"Good," Rob said sounding as pleased as a preacher that just prevailed in converting a Buddhist to Christianity.  "Now, have a good meal!"

Ok, I knew Ireland had a thing for leprechauns but come on.  Faeries!  Seriously?  Every country had its superstitions, but they were usually about ghosts or gypsy magic; not faeries.  And wasn't garlic and holy water supposed to be for be for vampires?