For six weeks melodious harp music wafts into a villager’s bedroom every night. In the seventh, the villager enters the woods, finding a satyr playing beside a brook, who gives a most unusual reason for the song… -- Deathshead419
It was beautiful music, Grisel couldn't deny it. Even as they lay awake when they should be sleeping because the music was keeping them from their dreams. And it was Summer, so shutting the window to block the sound was not an option.
They were the only farm that close to the forest, so nobody else in Frigmoor could hear it.
Moonlight seranades were perfect if you didn't have to get up and feed the animals at the arse-crack of dawn. Grisel had just about had enough of the tune. Always changing the rhythm, the melody. There was no chorus, just an unending chain of refrains.
Six weeks was more than enough. Grisel took a lantern and, in boots and nightshirt, went seeking the source. They weren't daft, they also had their axe in case of nocturnal attackers.
At least the music seemed to be keeping the night beasts away.
The forest was empty and still, which made it even more terrifying for its silence. Grisel felt compelled to creep in their work boots as they made their way closer to the source of the sound. They almost turned back to run for their farm when they saw what it was.
A Satyr. Mountain Faekindred rumoured to have had relations with the Plane of Torment. They had reputations for assaulting virgins, amongst many other things.
Given what Grisel knew about Hellkin versus what they'd been told about Hellkin... they were prepared to learn something knew about the people. For a start, this Satyr was playing on a metal flute, not the reed pipes as the stories say. Secondly, she was not naked as the stories loved to say. She was wearing a rather nice frilly top and a lot of handmade jewelry sourced from seed pods and string.
The skirt was a collection of fabric strips attached to a braided cord. It was certainly a colourful wardrobe choice.
Grisel almost threatened her for keeping them up in the middle of the night. It was the Satyr's expression that stopped them.
She looked like she was in pain.
Grisel circled around so the Satyr could see them. "Are you forced to do that?"
The Satyr nodded, eyes full of desperation.
Grisel waited until she took a breath and used the butt of their axe to knock the flute from her hands. It went somersaulting through the air and splashed into the water.
"Oh thank you," she breathed. "That thing has been making me play all night. I could barely eat or sleep for weeks... Thank you. Name what you need."
"I need sleep," said Grisel. "Preferably in my own bed." They bade the Satyr farewell, and tromped back to their home. There, they fell into such a deep sleep that they didn't notice their new bedmate until the dawn.
Grisel's new helpmeet on the farm was a Satyr, and they refused to let Frigmoor make a big deal out of it. Her name was Zoequo and she was very helpful. Extremely eager to learn everything about the one life she'd interrupted with a cursed flute.
Besides, by working on a farm, she was far less likely to accidentally find shiny objects with curses on them.
[Photo by Ahmad Habash on Unsplash]
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