The Fates, the Benevolent ones, In olden times mothers used to leave cake and wine so they'd look kindly on a newborn. She was no fool, a neatly sliced black forest cake, a bottle of very good dessert wine and a bag of superfine merino fleece. -- Nonn7mouse
Upon bringing a newborn into the house, it is tradition to give a gift to the Fae to prevent the child being stolen, and so that the Benevolent Ones look kindly upon the new life in the home and lands. At this point, it must be noted that they are called "Benevolent Ones" with the same optimism someone calls a growling dog with orange eyebrows "nice doggy". For almost a hundred years, nobody took it seriously, leaving a cheap bottle of wine and a low-budget cake somewhere within a fungus circle or within a suitably fae nature spot.
The child in the crook of her arm had been born small, born ill, and born at great risk to herself to the point where it was inadvisable to birth any other child. He was healthy enough to be at home, but the doctors insisted she should call the instant anything went wrong. Nobody really believed in the Fair Folk any more. Not seriously. Nevertheless, Lyla reasoned, it was time to pull out the Big Guns.
With her tiny son close to her chest, she cooked the best black forest gateau that she could find. She unearthed a bottle of the finest wine from her uncle's cellar. That was gift of the kitchen, and gift of the vine... for a good future, one must also include a gift of the field. Well. She wouldn't be spinning any time soon...
There was a peaceful grove she kept in the backyard, a place she would sit in for inspiration. It was there that she left the cake, the wine, and the bag of fine merino fleece. It was the best she could do. The only last hope she had.
"Benevolent ones, I beg... look kindly on my son. See him into health and safety. He is the most precious child I have and could ever have. I would wish for him... a good life. I swear I will do my utmost to provide for him while I live, and can only hope for your blessings for him."
There was no response. Lila didn't expect one. She left her gifts and went inside to tend to her boy. When she checked the next morning the cake, the wine, and the fleece were gone without a trace. Plate, bottle, and bag alike.
Some neighbour could have pinched it, but Lila wasn't about to ask too many questions. You didn't look into where gifts to the Fae went. After all, you might find out the answer. Of course her family called her silly. She was used to that.
What she was not used to was results. Her tiny little boy grew. Prospered. Excelled. Her son's doctors were amazed at how he reached the goals of a far less fragile baby. He went from the lowest percentile weight for his age to the higher end of the spectrum. His anticipated health problems ebbed to almost negligibility. Those that were threatened never appeared.
Of course he was neurodiverse. That was in the genes to begin with, and therefore not a concern. There were far more intriguing concerns. Good medical care was never cheap, and yet... somehow... Lila and her family always had just enough money to see to their needs. Not always enough to see to their wants, because that leads to a spoiled heart, but that was why saving was invented.
Her boy, once assumed to have a life plagued with trouble, grew into a life that felt almost blessed. When he was off to school at last, Lila returned to her little inspiration grove and to a project that had been waiting for the danger to pass. Of course, she fell asleep in her little grove. All parents tend to sleep when their child is at school for the first time.
She dreamed...
A figure of indeterminate gender and unfathomable beauty sitting by her side. Eyes bright like tiny suns. "Have you come to ask a boon?"
She said, "I am content. I would ask for nothing more."
"You asked for his safety but not for your own," said the creature. "You've fallen aslumber in a realm you gave to us. You could come and cook that splendid cake."
It had been five years. "If I went to cook for you, who would cook for my precious son? I would not leave him, not for all the gifts you may offer."
"Such a splendid boy," said the figure. "May I have his name?"
She sensed the trap. "You cannot take what is gifted to another," she said. "You may call him Ainsel."
"Wise," said the Fae, with skin like moonlight and hair like fire and eyes that could see everything. "Wise and clever. That's why we like you. You built this for us without need. Gifted us excellently in desperation. And now you come again to dream..."
"I didn't intend to dream," she said, "I intended to work, but dreams came anyway."
They leaned close, whispered in her ear. "Better wake. Here he comes."
She startled with a snort as the minivan - driven by a more experienced neighbour in the Mama's Network - rattled up their road. She dropped her knitting and ran to meet her precious boy.
The Fae took that, too. She didn't mind. Not really. Especially not after a close escape like that one. Perhaps, if they were feeling in the mood, they might gift her with something in return.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Elenathewise]
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