Dervish Sanders Consumes The Dewdrop of Diminution

Eilean led Dervish to a secluded gàradh. He found it peculiar that he had overlooked this cluster of trees, despite his earlier conviction that he had unearthed every secret of the faerie pocket dimension.

"This is a protected and forbidden place", Eilean explained. "I have brought you to this hallowed ràth, for the Iongantach Duilleach has unfurled, and the Draíocht Drúchdail has finally graced its surface. The surprise I previously mentioned awaits".

Lengthy blades of jade grass danced with the warm breeze, releasing a faint green aroma. Pansies, violas, and marigolds painted the ground in vivid bursts of color, their petals trembling like whispers of laughter. A towering Lumina Arbour dominated the center of the grove, it's silvery iridescent bark glowed faintly, as if imbued with the moon's light. The ancient tree branches, which extended high into the sky, were tipped with delicate, crystalline leaves that shimmered in shifting hues of blue and green.

"What is the iongantach duilleach?" Dervish inquired. "Some kind of amazing leaf?"

"Yes", Eilean confirmed. She spoke directly into Dervish's ear as she sat on his shoulder.

"There, at the base of the tree". Eilean's breath was soft against his lobe, her ariose voice sending shivers through his chest. The golden strands of her hair brushed his cheek like silk, grounding him in the surreal intimacy of the moment.

Dervish looked and saw a single verdant leaf sprouting from the trunk near to the earth. Kneeling, he discovered a glowing dewdrop resting at its center, its surface pulsing faintly, as though alive. The rays of the rising sun glinted off its pristine clarity, yet as he leaned closer, Dervish discerned minuscule particles suspended within the orb, swirling like motes caught in a silent current.

Dervish considered the tiny orb of liquid. "This is the drúchdail?"

"It is the Draíocht Drúchdail, or Dewdrop of Diminution. Its magic will abate your largeness, bestowing upon you the grace of perfect size".

"Should I consume it now?" Dervish asked.

"Yes, though first you might remove your clothing, as the dewdrop will have no effect upon it".

"OK", Dervish agreed, removing his garments as suggested. Casting them aside, he stood before Eilean completely nude.

"My fairie sisters have longed for this day with excited anticipation. Though first you shall lay with me".

It was then that Dervish heard the voices of the fairy troop -- familiar to him after spending so much time here -- harmonizing a wordless a cappella tune. Dozens of members of the tizzy fluttered about. Dervish noticed all had removed their tiny fairie dresses, with the expectation that they would soon be copulating with the right-sized man.

Dervish hesitated, the dewdrop glowing softly on the leaf before him. He bent closer, noticing its gentle pulse seemed to quicken, as if sensing his presence. With a deep breath, he pinched the leaf's edge and tilted it toward his lips. The dewdrop slid into his mouth, cool and weightless, like a drop of liquid starlight.

For an instant, nothing happened. Then, a tingling warmth spread from his chest to his fingertips, as though his very essence was being drawn inward. The ground beneath him seemed to stretch and expand, the towering Lumina Arbour growing impossibly larger with every heartbeat. Grass blades became towering green walls; flowers loomed like vibrant, petaled suns.

Before he could fully grasp what had occurred, Eilean's delighted laughter filled his ears. She now stood eye-to-eye with him, her silvery wings shimmering in the dappled light.

"Welcome to the world as we see it, great adventurer", she said, a playful smile curving her lips.

Eilean quickly slipped out of her gown and approached Dervish hesitantly. She held her nude body against his, her ample bosoms pressed between them. Dervish could feel her heart fluttering against his chest as she reached down and grabbed hold of his bod, which quickly stiffened.

The fairies of the tizzy surrounded the two, their voiceless melodies weaving an intricate symphony of exaltation. Then they began hooting and hollering, boisterously encouraging Dervish to proceed with the coitus. Eilean laid back in the cool vibrant green moss, her wings folding beneath her. Spreading her legs she guided Dervish's bod into her quivering faighin.

Eilean's body shuddered in eacstais as waves of tlachd washed over her. Finally Dervish filled her with his sìol.

Breathing deeply, Dervish withdrew. "I am exhausted", he remarked. "I don't see how I can service all of you".

Eilean lay in the còinneach, her skin flush; her bosoms rising and falling as she drew deep breaths. "My sense is that the childing has been successfully initiated", she gasped.

A grinn brown-haired fairie woman, pushed by her troupe members, approached Dervish. He recognized her as Luna, the faerie woman who, aside from Eilean, he had spent the most time with.

"I am next", she declared nervously as she fingered the nipples of her full round breasts.

The other faries cheered her on, chanting "G'wan, G'wan, G'wan, G'wan". They shouted this over and over, their voices rising to a din.

Luna approached Dervish, who was lying in the soft grass next to Eilean. Luna stood over Dervish, one foot on either side of his body. She starred down at him, then turned around suddenly and lowered herself onto his face. "This will ensure your seasmhachd", she explained.

Dervish suddenly realized he was starved for the taste of saccharine faerie nectar, and so eagerly began to eat her out. As soon as he tasted the narcotic liqueur he felt wholly reinvigorated. His fearalachd sprung to life again as Luna inhaled him down to the root.

After that Dervish found he was easily able to perform for every last member of the tizzy. By his count he engaged in 38 rounds before he was done.

Upon completion of the monumental task, all the members of the tizzy roared with applause. The clapping and cheering gradually dying out.

The last faerie lady closed her legs as Dervish withdrew. "That was fierce fhaochag!" Roweina exclaimed as she began to weep with joy.

"Don't cry", Dervish said, attempting to console her. Looking down Dervish noted he remained cruaidhe. "I could do you all again, just to be sure", he concluded.

The 38 faeries present started jumping in jubilation, their tiny, glimmering wings fluttering like a dazzling, silver storm. Their laughter rang out, bright and melodic, as they clasped hands and danced about. Breaking into song, they harmonized the ethereal fey tune of aoibhneas (happiness), the notes carrying the weight of centuries-old magic.

Several tooted on faerie flutes, their delicate instruments glowing faintly with an inner light. Others plucked enchanted harp strings woven from spider silk, each pluck creating a shimmer of stardust in the air. Soon, the music took on a life of its own, weaving through the forest and awakening slumbering flowers that bloomed in radiant colors.

A brave few climbed atop dancing mushrooms, chanting "Ar bó!" as they twirled with giddy abandon. One mischievous faerie tossed a burst of sparkling powder into the sky, which rained down as a gentle cascade of iridescent light. The entire clearing seemed to come alive, an explosion of magic and joy as though the very world was celebrating.

As the jubilant faeries danced and music filled the air, a deep, resonant horn blast echoed through the clearing. The sound carried with it an ancient authority, vibrating through the trees and stilling the festivities as though time itself had paused to listen. One by one, the faeries froze mid-dance, their wings trembling with anticipation.

Out of the shimmering air, a golden light began to coalesce at the ràth's edge. It grew brighter and more radiant, forming into the shape of a regal figure -- Her Majesty Queen Eimíle, the sovereign of these fey. Her gown sparkled like sunlight on dew, and her crown, woven from moonlit vines and studded with gems of every hue, seemed to pulse gently with its own inner magic.

The faeries knelt in unison, heads bowed low, their earlier mirth now replaced by reverent awe. The queen's voice, smooth and melodic, carried across the clearing with ease.

"Dervish Sanders, I presume?" she began, her tone a perfect blend of authority and warmth. She stepped forward, her radiant gaze meeting Dervish's eyes. "Rise, exceptional bàsmhor".

Dervish was quite nervous, given that he was still completely rùisgte. Even though all the faeries of the troop also were; he was the only one present with a fully erect scytel. He already was risen. Though he inferred she meant to his feet, and so he stood.

The Queen glanced down and a smile formed on her face. "I see why Eilean is so impressed. I am as well". Queen Eimíle signaled for assistance, and several of her subjects rushed to her aid.

"Help me out of my gown", she instructed them.

Disrobed, the Queen began to sway, gyrating her hips. Dervish's eyes were drawn to her magnificent breasts, then down her flat stomach, a small divot in place of her belly button, which she lacked (as did all the other faeries), given that she was one of the non-born. The queen possessed a perfect hourglass figure. Dervish's eyes moved down to her majesty's exquisite vulva. Moonlight shown through her thigh gap, captivating him.

"Your reward", the queen announced as she continued to sway. "This is a great honor. And, I assure you that, even though you have feasted on the faighin of all the members of Eilean's troop, mine is beyond compare".

Dervish was certain she spoke the truth, even before tasting. Though he found he was anxious to, so he knelt, extended his tongue and began kissing and licking. A honey floral sent filled his nostrils as he devoured his duais.

The fairie tizzy gathered around closely, starring in rapt silence and amazement.

"I wasn't about to miss out", the Queen said in her defense while Dervish continued to orally pleasure her. Eimíle moaned loudly and spurted, producing a sapid deoch which quickly intoxicated him, driving his libido to superhuman heights.

Queen Eimíle mounted Dervish after pushing him to the ground. Remaining still and using the power of her muscular faighin alone, she began kneading his bod with rhythmic, rippling pulses. Experiencing pleasure beyond any he had known before, Dervish cried out in exalted euphoria.

Numerous sex positions later, the Queen declared herself satiated. All the faeries of the tizzy cheered as Queen Eimíle proclaimed, "let the tales of your deeds echo through the realms". All fell silent as the Queen stood, several faeries rushing to help her redress.

Then, with a wave of her delicate hand, all faeries burst into applause, their joy resuming, though now tempered with the solemnity of the moment.

After the Queen departed Dervish found he was easily able to service all 38 of the sìthiche women a second, and then a third time. The moon disappeared as the sun rose. The sun began to set again when it was finally determined that all the members of the tizzy were surely and undoubtedly air an lìonadh.


See Also: The Encounter Between Dervish Sanders & The Faerie Queen Eimíle (NSFW comic panels depicting the encounter between Dervish And The Faerie Queen) AND A Mòrachd, A Bhanrigh Eimíle aka Her Majesty Queen Emily (alternate illustration depicting Queen Emily).

 swtd-446. dsa-23.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

Dervish Sanders Eats Faerie Faighin

The midday sun filtered through the canopy above, scattering dappled light across the forest floor.

Without warning, darkness fell over the wood, swallowing the light. It was as if night had arrived unbidden, despite the morning hour. Glancing upward, Dervish saw that Sunne was almost completely eclipsed by Mōna. A chill ran through him; surely, this was an ill omen.

As swiftly as the darkness descended, it dissipated. Then, mere seconds later, feminine laughter drifted through the trees -- a sweet, melodic sound that seemed to dance on the air. The laughing again, Dervish thought, unease prickling at the edges of his mind. Should he flee?

Before he could act, a cascade of shimmering light enveloped him -- a swarm of faeries. Yet, instead of fear, wonder blossomed in his chest as the hum of delicate wings enveloped him like a symphony spun from nature's own magick. He extended his hand, trembling with awe, and a tiny faerie alighted upon his palm. Dervish gazed at the ethereal woman, mesmerized by her beauty as though caught in a spell.

"You are completely nude", Dervish observed, still holding the faerie woman in his hand. She reclined in his palm and spread her legs, exposing her faighin to his full view.

"That is very observant of you", the small blonde woman remarked, licking her lips. "Do you know that faerie faighin is exceedingly delectable?" she inquired, laughing. Her voice sounded like tinkling musical bells to Dervish's ears.

"I had not heard that", Dervish confessed. Are you inviting me to have a taste?" Suddenly Dervish was extremely intrigued and compelled to discover if what the lovely faerie lass claimed was true.

"Duh!" she exclaimed. "Go ahead. You will not regret it", she promised while opening and closing her legs.

Cradling the faerie lady in his hand, Dervish sat on the downed Hornbeam. Then he extended his tongue and started licking. As it turned out, the faerie lady told the truth. Dervish had never tasted anything like it in his life. The small winged woman moaned in ecstasy as Dervish continued performing gnè beòil.

He brought her to orgasm multiple times, each time squirting, before she lay in his palm completely exhausted. Then he noticed dozens of faeire women lined up on the log, each waiting their turn. To his astonishment, Dervish was able to give each of the faerie women oral pleasure without rest. Eventually he brought each of several dozen of the tiny ladies to climax with the wriggling of his tongue.

After the sweet sidhe nectar passed his lips, an intoxicating ambrosia seemed to dance across his taste buds. Dervish felt the liquid's magick take hold, a warmth spreading through him which caused the world around him pulse with life. He was overcome with a euphoria that felt otherworldly. Hours seemed to blend together as he marveled at the vibrant transformation of the forest. The leaves deepened to a lush, emerald green, glowing with an inner light.

Dervish laid down on the ground as the sun dipped lower in the sky, brilliant shades of orange and pink swirled across the horizon, creating a mesmerizing tapestry of colors that defied reality. The night seemed to come alive with a surreal beauty which Dervish gazed at in awe until sleep finally claimed him.

The next morning Dervish woke to find the effects lingered. He felt invigorated, his senses alive in a way he couldn't explain. Even the hard ground beneath him offered no discomfort. Rising, he turned to the sun, only to notice something strange -- it rose higher in the sky and its light seemed unfamiliar, its hue subtly altered. The land around him felt both known and unknowable, as if reality itself had shifted while he slept.

"You have been transported to the faerie realm", the first faerie woman he had given oral pleasure to explained. She flew down from a blackthorn branch and landed on a tree stump near Dervish. Overcome with joy, she danced a pirouette. Her sparkling gown seemed to flow in slow motion as she spun around.

"Welcome to your new home", she sang. "You are going to love it here!" She bowed gracefully and added, "You may call me Eilean. I am the leader of this faerie tizzy".

Dervish absorbed what Eilean told him. He recalled a children's fable he read while studying to be a scribe. As per this story, mortals could be transported to the faerie realm and trapped there. The thought that he now found himself in just such a predicament was distressing, still he felt an inexplicable calmness.

"I thank thee for the very kind offer, but I'd rather be on my way", Dervish remarked with composure.

Eilean frowned, clearly displeased by his response. "You have been selected, which is a great honor", she replied.

"You are correct. I apologize", Dervish conceded. Though he was lying. He saw no reason to upset his host at the moment. Perhaps he could win her trust and convince her to release him?

"That is a certainly a relief", Eilean remarked. "I was afraid you had been selected incorrectly". Then she lifted her dress. "Do you care for another taste?" she inquired, revealing her nether region.

Dervish decided he would. In fact, he thirsted intensely for another taste of sweet faerie faighin. He could not imagine he would ever experience anything more delightful than eating out a faerie. Eliean smiled as she shimmied out of her dress.

"My sisters will arrive shortly to be serviced", Eilean informed him. Her wings began to beat, lifting her off the stump. Again she sat in Dervish's palm. She reclined and spread her legs. Dervish brought the faerie faighin to his mouth and eagerly commenced gnéas béil. Eilean squirted and he drank in the delicious faerie nectar.

When he finished Eilean suggested Dervish remove his trousers. He did not know for what purpose, but complied. Eilean embraced him, clasping her arms around his manhood. The feel of her tiny tongue fluttering against his bod was intensely pleasurable.

Eliean gasped when Dervish drenched her with his essence. "Ar bó!" she shouted, swallowing a small amount.

The days passed and Dervish found he was unable to keep track of the number. Each day played out virtually identically, yet he did not grow bored. Clearly he was addicted to the faerie liqueur. In fact his craving for it was unbelievably potent and found he could not get enough. Dervish also found that it sustained him completely. He had no need of food or drink whatsoever.

Dervish regaled the faerie tizzy with tales of his adventures, which delighted them. In turn, they sang songs and performed skits that filled the air with laughter. During other hours of the day, Dervish was allowed to roam freely. He discovered that, after walking in any direction for a period of time, he always ended up exactly where he started. He was certain he wasn't walking in circles and returning to the exact same place purely by coincidence. That's when he concluded he must be imprisoned in some kind of alternate dimension or demiplane.

Eilean confronted him one day. It was another of many. Dervish was unsure how many had passed, but it could be thousands. Dead leaves crunched under his boots as he explored the cool tranquil forest. Songbirds warbled ariose tunes as they bounced around the underbrush, searching for bugs. Occasionally he spotted a deer or a squirrel. Sometimes he observed butterflies floating in a serene meadow.

Dervish discovered a babbling brook, its waters dancing with sunlight that fractured into rainbow hues. He sat for many hours at its edge, studying the fish that swam lazily in the clear water, their scales sparkling in the golden light. The sound of the flowing water seemed to carry whispers of ancient songs.

Though Dervish wandered far and wide, the enchantment of the realm always guided him back to the same glade, a realization that marked his confinement.

"As you have discovered, there is no escape", Eilean informed him, stamping her feet and crossing her arms underneath her beautiful full round breasts. Was she cross with him?

"I assure you, I was only exploring. I quite like it here", Dervish fibbed. "It is my heart's greatest desire to never depart this place". To his surprise, Dervish found that his words rang true. He did love it here. And yet, he wished to leave. He missed his family and was concerned about what had transpired back in the mortal realm during his absence.

This seemed to satisfy Eilean. "I am extremely glad to hear that", she replied. "Now, I have a surprise for you. This is something that will completely convince you that you should stay with us forever and ever".

Dervish sat on the same moss covered log in the same glade he made his home ever since arriving in the faerie dimension. Just a short distance away was a shelter he previously constructed of sticks and grasses to keep him dry during the occasional rain shower. It was about the time of day when the tizzy would gather.

He listened to Eilean talk as he shaved. During his explorations he identified a thick grass that, when snapped in half, produced a clear green gel. He used this in place of shaving cream. Eilean prattled on. She was clearly very enthused about the still undisclosed surprise.

Hearing the flutter of tiny wings, the faerie known as Luna arrived. She hovered in the air for a second, then touched down on the log next to Eilean.

"Why scrape your mortal skin so? Does it soothe your spirit?" Luna mused, obviously confused. "You must be hungry", she added as she adjusted her moss cap. She lifted her skirt, exposing herself.

"Not yet, Luna", Eilean said, scolding her sister. "I was about to tell our guest about the wonderful surprise".

Luna sat down next to Eilean and whispered something to her as Dervish finished removing the mucilaginous goo from his face using his pocket knife. He peered at himself using the shard of a mirror given to him by one of the faeries, content he had completed the task.

"As it turns out, the surprise is not quite ready yet", Eilean confessed. "But it is a doozy. I am positive you will be quite pleased. Let me just say that there is a way for you to magically transform to the perfect size. Great preparation was required, which is why I'm only bringing it up now".

"The perfect size is your size, I take it?" Dervish inferred. For what purpose, he could only guess. Though he thought he had a good idea what Eilean might have in mind.

"You know, there is something I've been meaning to ask you for some time", Dervish confessed. "I've been wondering what happened to all the faerie men. Are there none?"

"They perished", Eilean informed Dervish, tears filling her eyes. "That is why we brought you here. To help us bolster our numbers".

"I would be very willing to help you solve this problem", Dervish confirmed. It seemed he was about to become the father to dozens of faerie babies? Then he remembered he read in a book that faeries simply come in to existence, fully formed in an instant. One passage claimed that a fairy awakens within a blossoming flower. He related this to Eilean.

The tizzy leader appeared shocked. "It seems you know more than most", she mused. "But that is correct. This instant creation is known as sradag dhiadhaidh, or the divine spark. The creation of a faerie is viewed by our kind as a tiodhlac bestowed by the grace of the Chúirt Seelie. Unfortunately, a mallachd has fallen upon the tizzy. For this reason no new faeires are currently able to be spontaneously created via the divine spark. It is being blocked".

Eilean paused, allowing Dervish to take in what she had said. Then she added, "there is, however, a way to circumvent this".

Dervish didn't know what to think. "Could the curse be lifted instead of circumvented?"

"No. At least I don't know of a way currently. In the meantime it was decided that we should increase our numbers as the mortairean do. I don't think any faerie has ever done it before, though I'm excited to find out what it's like".

"For the record, this was a decision reached upon the recommendation of our sovereign, Queen Eimíle. She told me personally that, as per her vision, a great daonnaithe adventurer would appear at the exact time and place you did. And that this básmhar would serve as a soitheach dhiadhaidh, or divine vessel. You fit the physical description precisely. You are the divine vessel".

Dervish was concerned that he might offend Eilean by questioning the vision of their queen. Still, he decided he needed to point something out, which is that he was not a great adventurer. "Perhaps there has been a mistake? I am but a novice", Dervish replied with some trepidation.

"As far as adventuring goes, you will be great. A mòrachd Eimíle confirmed this to me personally. It is your destiny. Though unconventional, you must aid us in the way of mortals -- the act of creation not born of flowers but of flesh. Moreover, you already are great in one specfic regard. All the faeries of this tizzy long to feel your massive bod inside them. Now, do you wish to assist us or not?"

Dervish confirmed (a second time) that he would help in any way he could. This made Eilean very happy.

"I am extremely relieved. I don't know what we had done if you refused", the fairie tizzy leader sighed. "All we have to do now is wait. Great magic will be required to make this possible. This is in progress as we speak".

Dervish sat on the hornbeam log, lost in thought. On one hand, a great adventurer was required to fulfill a prophecy. On the other hand, he was not a great adventurer. But Eilean said he would be great in the future. Obviously, Dervish concluded, the only way he could become the great adventurer foretold would be if he was allowed to leave this place. He would not become great by staying with the faeries forever. Therefore, Eilean had no choice but to release him.

His logic was airtight and Eliean could not dispute it. In order to fulfill the prophecy given by the Queen, she would have no choice but to allow him to depart. Though not until he impregnated each and every faerie lady of the tizzy.

Eilean extended her hand, her fingers shimmering as if woven from moonlight itself. "Dervish Sanders, I, Eilean of the Gnéasúil Craiceáilte faerie tizzy, swear upon the prophecy of our Bhanrigh and the magic that binds our realm. I pledge to release you from this place so that you may fulfill your destined greatness. In return, you shall aid me in the task set forth by Banríon Eimíle. Do you agree to this pact?"

Dervish hesitated for a moment, the weight of the words pressing upon him. Then, summoning his courage, he clasped her hand between his thumb and forefinger. "I agree. Upon my word, I will honor the terms of this bargain".

As their hands met, a soft glow encircled them, and the air around seemed to hum with unseen power. The pact was sealed -- neither could break it without consequence.

"fìor mhath!" Luna exclaimed, declaring the deal to be fantastic, in her opinion. "Now, about the sustenance I previously offered, are you ready to receive it now?"

Dervish glanced down and saw Luna, who had shed her clothing, astride his right bare foot. She began to groan and grunt as she rubbed her crotch back and forth against his skin. "I'm ready to squirt!" the faerie lass cried. "If you want my nectar you better act fast".

Dervish Sanders: This story didn't include any information about my mother or father or sister. Except confirming they exist. Though it seems I am never going to see them again.

The Biographer: It is true that, in the prior tale, I said that Dervish would not set foot in his family's home again. While this doesn't for certain mean he will never see his family members again, it does seem unlikely. I may reveal more of his backstory later, but for now, the focus remains on his time in the faerie realm, which is a tale that will continue in the next installment and conclude with two additional chapters.



 swtd-442. dsa-22.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

Dervish Sanders & The Hyperthemesiatic Recalling

Dervish Sanders: So, what's next? I'm thinking it might be time for another backstory? Maybe you'll tell me how the tiefing Char Umi from the prior tale came to be in the Garden of Respite? I actually am interested in hearing more about that.

The Biographer: You guessed right about the backstory, although what I have actually prepared is something new. I'm calling this one, "Dervish Sanders & The Hyperthemesiatic Recalling". If you look it up you'll find that "hyperthymesia syndrome is also known as Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory or HSAM. This is a rare condition characterized by an extraordinary ability to recall and retain autobiographical memories".

Dervish Sanders: That sounds interesting. As per your prior tale, Ayla expressed interest in hearing about my mother. Later you said that Ayla, Char and I talked for hours while at the visitor's cottage in the Garden of Respite. Could this narrative be my recounting of an event from my past in Englaland, as told by me during this hours long conversation?

The Biographer: Precisely. Your guess is spot on. What follows is the story, told exactly as it happened. Because you have an extraordinary ability to recall autobiographical memories.

Dervish Sanders: Wow! I didn't know that about myself. So, I take it there will be no backstory for the tiefling character?

The Biographer: I can give you one if you wish. Following the Dervish Sanders backstory. Now, let me begin. As you surmised, this tale takes place in Englaland, which is where Dervish is originally from before he relocated to Mauretania several decades prior to the "present day". By which I mean the in-story timeline.

On a cool spring morning, as the sun climbed into the sky, a magpie alit outside Dervish's window and began to chirp. "Wake up", it seemed to cheep. This went on for some time, eventually rousing Dervish. Annoyed, he pulled the covers over his head, but the incessant chattering continued unabated.

Dervish threw back his blanket and went to his open window. He gazed about for the source of the ruckus before spotting the offending noisemaker in a nearby Kentish cobnut.

"The road ahead gleams bright and gold; a treasure lies where shadows fold", the magpie said in Birdspeak.

Dervish, having a passing familiarity with Birdspeak, was able to decipher the warbler's verbalizing.

"Say what?" he replied in rudimentary Birdspeak.

The avian quickly jumped from one branch to another, its inky plumage shimmering like an obsidian jewel in the morning light. In a trice it turned and starred directly at the man in the window.

"Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants", the black and white songbird counseled, a twinkle in one violet-blue iris.

"That is wise advice", Dervish replied in humanspeak. He listened some more and, though he didn't understand all of what the magpie piped, decided he had enough information to go on.

Despite having recently come into a large sum of money, Dervish decided to investigate this alleged treasure, if only for his amusement. Something about the magpie's words stirred a restless energy in him, too tempting to ignore.

Dervish washed his face in a basin on his nightstand, dressed, then departed his abode. His mother, father and sister were still asleep, so he trod lightly on the wood plank floor. Little did he know this would be the last time he would set foot in his family's home.

Dervish silently closed the door behind him and set out. The morning air was cold and crisp, the sky painted orange and gold as the new day dawned. Following the magpie's directions, Dervish set out from Waltham Abbey, heading east along a winding path that cut through rolling meadows and whispering hedgerows. A short while later Boudicca's Obelisk, rising solemnly from the forest's edge near Ambresbury Banks, came into view. Its timeworn surface seemed to echo with the distant voices of battle and rebellion, though Dervish gave it only a passing glance as he pressed onward into the wooded expanse.

Navigating the trails of Epping Forest, he headed southeast, a journey that brought him to Copt Hall. The grand manor emerged like a vision from behind clustered oaks, its stone façade radiating an air of authority. Yet Dervish regarded it less as a marvel of permanence and more as a fortress of privilege. He had it on good authority that the inhabitants wouldn't hesitate to run trespassing peasants off their land with dogs. Or worse. So he was careful to keep to the public road, clear of the estate's boundaries.

Leaving Copt Hall behind, an hour and a half after beginning his trek, Dervish entered the secluded tranquility of Griffins Wood. Here he found a large downed hornbeam that conformed to the description imparted to him by his avian friend.

The minutes passed as Dervish took a swig from his waterskin while taking a rest on the moss covered log. Clearly it had been on the forest floor for some time, as it was afflicted with rot and covered with various mosses, as well as some English Ivy. The leaves of the Griffin Wood trees rustled in the warm breeze as Dervish scanned his surroundings, but no gleamings of bright and gold immediately caught his attention.

Hearing branches snapping, Dervish spotted a short, stout, black-haired man emerge from the trees.

"You there!" the man shouted. "I lost something very valuable in the vicinity. You didn't happen to find it, did you?" The man eyed him with suspicion.

"No, sir", Dervish replied. "But I could help you look. Maybe you can describe what it is you lost?"

"A twill pouch filled with gold nobles that was tied to my belt", the man explained, a look of extreme worry on his bearded face. "Those coins were intended as repayment of a loan from my uncle. It will be very bad trouble for me and my household if I do not find it".

Dervish assumed this was the treasure the magpie tweeted about, and so decided to help the man attempt to locate it.

While searching, the man told Dervish that he lost the coins while running through the woods in fright.

"A harbinger of my misfortune, I fear", he lamented. "I am Ashley of Wood House, by the way. I am employed there as a handyman".

Dervish shook the man's hand and introduced himself. "I am Dervish of Waltham Abbey. I am employed there as a scribe". Though this was a white lie, given that Dervish had not worked as a scribe for several years, having resigned his position to test his fortunes as a full time adventurer.

A surprised expression crossed the man's face. "I have heard of you!" he exclaimed. "The rumor is that your family came into a great fortune recently. If your last name is Sanders, that is".

"It is not that great", Dervish replied, downplaying the magnitude of his family's recently acquired riches. "But, yes, my family name is Sanders". In his estimation the last thing the Sanders family needed was for word to spread and beggars to come knocking, looking for handouts. Not that he was opposed to giving to charitable causes. In fact, he had only recently anonymously donated a large sum to the local orphanage.

"Hmm. That's not what I heard", Ashley remarked. "I heard that that Sanders family is fabulously wealthy".

Dervish chuckled dismissively. "That is a great exaggeration. You know how it is with rumors".

Ashley of Wood House seemed to take Dervish at his word, remarking, "you seem like a decent bloke, unlike the snooty yfels that reside at Copt Hall".

After a half hour of searching, the two found nothing, so they decided to expand the perimeter. Shortly thereafter, a glint among the blades of grass caught Dervish's eye and he bent over, finding a torn pouch. It appeared to him that Ashley's purse had caught on the prickers of a hawthorn bush.

"By God's light, tis my pouch!" Ashley cried.

Dervish handed Ashley the pouch, though he could tell by the weight it was devoid of coinage. Ashley noticed this immediately as well.

"Woe is me! There is but one coin here of the eleven there should be", Ashley remarked after looking inside. Then turning it inside out. Then frantically searching the ground on his hands and knees; getting scraped across the face by the bush's thorns for his trouble.

Giving up, he sat dejectedly on the log, small drops of blood dripping from the light scratches on his face.

"Whatever will I do?" Ashley cried.

Dervish took pity on the man and offered a solution. "I tell you what, so long as you promise to tell no one, I will replace your coins. I happen to have some with me. Although, as I already said, my family has not come into a great fortune. We have been moderately blessed. I beg you not to perpetuate any false gossip on this matter".

Ashley readily agreed and Dervish handed him 10 gold nobles.

"I'll hunt you down and give you a severe thrashing if I hear of this", Dervish warned. He was not sure he would actually carry though with this threat, but issued it regardless.

Ashley grasped his hand and thanked him profusely. "I solemnly swear, I will tell no one".

It was then that a faint unnerving tittering rippled through the grove, carried on the breeze like the tinkling of distant wind chimes.

"Fey folk! I saw them earlier, which is why I was running". Ashley looked around fearfully. Dervish looked about as well. He saw no faeries.

"I bid thee good fortune!" Ashley blurted, clutching the coins close to his breast. Then he took to his heels and bolted, his shoes crunching the underbrush, as though the (presumed) faerie laughter was a hound at his heels.

Dervish recalled, having read something about it while working as a scribe, that the common folk believed faeries to be mischievous, and even dangerous beings. Also that they were sometimes associated with illness or misfortune. It is better to be safe than sorry, he told himself. Therefore he decided to return home, convinced that if he was able to locate the magpie nest, it definitely might contain the missing 9 gold nobels.

The Biographer: And with that, I will conclude this installment. I imagine you're wondering if Dervish will encounter these alluded to faeries.

Dervish Sanders: Not really. I'm assuming he will. I think the foreshadowing made it apparent. And that might explain why I never return home. By the way, what was Ashley doing tramping around in the woods with so much money? This doesn't seem like a wise thing for him doing. Proven by him losing his money pouch.

The Biographer: Well, that's something you will never know. Given that you might have asked Ashley before he ran away, but didn't. Though, in order to satisfy your curiosity, I will tell you. Ashley traveled from Wood House to Waltham Abbey to sell some of his belongings to raise funds to pay his debt. Then returned, passing though Griffin's Wood, which is where he spotted the faeries. Or imagined he did. And took off running, returning after he realized his money pouch was missing.

Now, if you have no further questions, we can conclude for today and get back to your encounter with the faeries next time. Which I won't deny will be occurring, as you correctly deduced.

 swtd-441. dsa-21.  Analysis. Previous. Next.