Mother always say never touch the metal made by men. No touch the weapons, and no touch the body ornaments. We die if we touch de shiny. Here women sleep under my tree. Three women with shiny men metal woven in their hair. Gold, shiny. A’ wants to touch their hair. And if A' moves slow, A’ could touch hair, and de shiny. She awakes! A’s hand near the woman’s face. Near de shiny in her hair.
You are not afraid of me. You blink green eyes and look into A’s eyes, am brown eyes. You know the Fey. You were many sun times younger when you played with us. A’ wants to touch your hair. A’ wants to touch de shiny.
Mother say we die if we touch de shiny, but no Fey really know. Old Wise He say we no die but turn into men if we touch. Have to leave the mists and live in the world of men if we touch. Only ancestors know really. No, I do not want to live in the men world with you. I want to touch your hair. I want to touch de shiny in your hair.
A’ am young like you, woman with gold hair, but in a different way. Time works not the same here, under my tree. Here in the mists. You know this, yet here you are, crawling through time with me. You who know de Fey. A’ am many times de solstice pass, fifty! Almost sixty! If A’ was of men, A’ would be old, wisen, gray. But you are not yet blooded as a woman. And A’ am not yet blooded in the hunt of the great deer of the forest. Not yet tested to be Fey man. Soon. Maybe five more solstice pass, then A’ hunt the deer, then A’ bleed with the great deer herd of the forest and become a Fey man. But today, I am still unblooded. Like you. You are safe, blossom, with me now, eh, as safe as women ever be with Fey.
Do not ask again for A’ to touch de shiny. A’ told you, it could kill me. Maybe make me a man, but A’ does not know. De shiny is dirty metal. Bad metal. The metal of men is ripped from the womb of the Mother, the Earth, without care, without respect for She. No blessing. No ritual. Just digging in deep, ripping out the homes of birds and forest animals with no care. Ripping out trees that give food and shelter with no honor to the purpose. Men is dirty this way. Men is cursed! Men give no care. No thought for what they do.
Eh? Yes, Fey have metal. We have weapons and metal for spear tips and knives. Sometimes Fey find metal in the river. A gift from She. And She Who is Goddess in the Flesh has a sky metal band She wears on holy days, on Her brow. Sometimes fire metal falls from the sky. Warriors run to get the sky fire metal that falls. Masters hammer the metal hard, heat the sky fire metal in the hot hot coals, eh, and hammer again and again. But it no shiny. Dull, gray, strong. No shiny like de metal in your gold hair.
(Whispers) A’ do not believe Fey die when we touch de metal of men. A’ want to touch de shiny. No, don’t flinch. A’ will not harm you. A’ wants to touch your hair. There see? A’ want to touch the men metal and put it in my hair. But A’ am so so afraid, blossom. No, no hold my hand. Do not make A’ touch de shiny. A’ no want to be men. But, oh, A’ do want to hold de shiny.
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A deliberately short scene between a young man of the Fae and a maiden traveling with her companions.
