Kelpie Boyfriend: Fionnla #1 (complete)

My grandmother used to say that the women in our family had a tendency to run out of luck like a sieve with a hole. By the time we are grown and need luck the most, we are out of it. My grandmother was proof enough. She lost all her sons by the time they were teenagers, her husband vanished with all her money, and her eldest daughter was taken by a dragon. My mother’s luck had run out slower than the rest; she married young, had me, and things were pleasant for a spell. It wasn’t until I was thirteen that things started to change. There was war constantly around us. We fled from our homes right into the fire. My father was killed by Gnoll raiders, trying to get my mother and I out alive. And once we were somewhere safe, my mother grew extremely ill.

I always had to take care of her. I was her nursemaid and constant companion, which made it extremely hard to earn money. I turned to stealing to make ends meet, having to lie when my mother questioned me about how I earned money. She always reminded me of her mother’s warning.

“Our luck runs out fast, so don’t use it all right away,” she wheezed.

The doctor in our village was a kind and handsome man. He was always willing to work things out with me so my mother could get her treatment and medicines. Eventually, our relationship became much more intimate. I was young and he was beautiful, so I gave him my intimate company and in return, he took care of my mother.

I was still very young when we decided to marry. It was a rushed event so that my mother could be there for the wedding. Her final words to me were; “Your luck is precious now.” She was dead the morning after. 

For the first few years of marriage, things were peaceful, happy, and easy. We were the perfect picture of a married couple, and everyone in the village admired us. I felt certain my grandmother’s warnings were all just a way to cope with the tragedy in her life. I could let go of that fear for once to allow myself to relax. 

Unfortunately, I should have held onto that fear a little longer. Had I kept my grip on it, I would not have been so devastated when I started getting the letters. Being a doctor, my husband was always out on calls or traveling to help nearby villages. I trusted him as any young wife would. He would always come home seemingly beleaguered by his travels, and yet excited to see me. I had no reason to doubt him until I received the first few letters. They were delivered to me while my husband was away, and each one detailed all my husband’s exploits as vividly as a painting. He was having affairs all around, using sex as payment for his services. He had many young women - and men - that he frequented all around.

When I confronted my husband about it, he told me it was a cruel joke. He took the letters from me, telling me they were from a jealous admirer who wished to ruin him. I was stupid enough to believe him for a while, but the letters kept coming. They came in different handwriting and told different stories. Some even said they were forced into the exchange with my husband because they had no other way to pay to save their family members. By that time, I was pregnant. 

I approached my husband again, and he flew into a horrible rage. He pushed me to the floor before he fled. For the longest time, he was gone, only to be washed up by the river. His bloated, half-eaten body was entirely unrecognizable except for the pin on his lapel. 

I was heavily pregnant and unsure what to do. I thought for sure I would be able to take care of myself and the baby, since there would be money left over. But the only thing left to me was a sizeable debt - another secret my husband hid. He had a problem with gambling, so now the debt fell to me. I sold the house and all of our possessions, and was forced to move to a new village that was less than reputable. 

While I could still work, I took a job cleaning in a brothel for food and a room. The men and women there were understanding. I learned my husband had been the customer of a few of them. I became close to the madam, who helped to pay off my debts, but then I became indebted to her instead. 

I gave birth to my son on a night when snow was piled high in the streets. The madam was the first to hold him, and bathe him in melted snow. The delivery nearly killed me. I was in and out of consciousness for days and was so weak afterwards, I could barely hold my baby. It wasn’t until weeks later that I learned the name that the madam had given him: Olwen. 

I felt the weight of my grandmother’s words each and every day after that. I was left extremely weak after giving birth, and had to build my strength up slowly and painfully each day. For the first few years of my son’s life, I had to rely on the people in the brothel for support. 

Another war began during my son’s third year, and the village where we lived was in the crossfire. The brothel was leveled, many lives were lost, and I lost everything once again. The madam was gravely injured. and I was the only one left to take care of her. Most of the village had been abandoned, so we took over one of the empty houses. I managed to tend to her while raising my son.

Bit by bit, the madam had me sell her things so we would have money to live on. My son was sick often, and seemed to get colds just from looking at pictures of snow. When the madam died, I thought things might get a bit easier. Instead, they took a turn for the worse. Olwen’s health deteriorated in such a way that it reminded me of my mother. He had all the same symptoms as she did, so luckily, I knew partly what to do. I did everything my late husband did to treat my mother, using the madam’s precious jewelry to pay for medicine.

One day, the traveling doctor comes by to look over Olwen. He asks me how I am treating him, and when I tell him everything he only shakes his head.

“Those will treat the symptoms, but not the cause.” He stands up from the bedside and takes me aside. “There is an apothecary a few villages over. If you can travel there, you can get the proper medicine.” He hands me a list. “It will be quite expensive, but the dosage will last a month. By then, your son will be over this illness.”

I take the list and shake my head. “I can’t afford this,” I whisper in a panic. “There’s no money left. I’ve used everything on these other medicines.”

The doctor remains silent and stalwart. “I’m sorry,” he says, and without another word, he leaves.

My neighbors, Em and Heirik, have been kind to me. They are older and lost sons in the war, so they have gotten attached to Olwen and given him all the hand-me-downs from their sons. They come over that evening and listen as I weep to them about my situation. 

“We don’t have much,” Em tells me, “but Heirik and I want you to have this.” She gives me a small satchel full of coins. “We would rather see Olwen well than anything else in our lives.”

“I can’t take this,” I sob. My tears are falling freely now. “What if you and Heirik need something?”

“We’re old,” Heirik chuckles. “It won’t matter for long.”

I glance back at Olwen sleeping in bed. His poor little snores are wheezy and weak. “But how will I ever get there?” I whisper. “I have no means to travel, no horse, no money to afford a carriage trip.” I clutch my hands around my mouth. “It’s dangerous out there to go alone, but I-” My voice catches in my throat. “But if I must, I must.”

“I’ll sharpen your knife,” Heirik tells me. “Better to have it than no protection at all.” He takes the blade I keep hidden by the bed. I took it off a Gnoll ages ago, and have kept it with me ever since. 

“I know prayers aren’t much compared to a horse,” Em says as she strokes my hands, “but perhaps they will serve you somehow on the journey.”

I bid Olwen goodbye in the morning, leaving him with Em and Heirik. I walk for hours until I pass a lake. I refill my canteen and drink heavily from it. The day has been hot and I have barely been able to take shade anywhere. I rest by the cool lake, eating a small meal of bread and dried fruit. 

I double-check everything in my bag to make sure the money and the list are still there. My legs ache very badly, but I know I can’t rest much longer. I need to travel as far as possible before the sun goes down. As I start to stand, I see a white horse drinking at the edge of the lake. I am stunned for a moment by how beautiful he is. I have never seen a horse like him. His pure white body is sleek and slim, and his mane and tail are long, cascading down in gentle waves.

I then notice he has no bridle, no saddle, no reins. Looking around, I see no one watching over the horse. I approach the creature slowly, hoping not to scare him away. The horse turns to look at me with eyes that are a pale pink. 

“Hi. there. Pretty thing you are,” I coax him. “Look at you! Lovely as a song.” I hold out my half-eaten apple to him. “Come here, sweetling, I won’t hurt you.”

The horse eagerly approaches me, tapping his hooves and shaking his head before he takes the apple from me. I stroke his muzzle and brush the hair from his eyes to better look at his pearly pink eyes.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” I coo to him. “Are you all on your own? I don’t have much, but I could take care of you. Would you like that?”

The horse stomps his feet and nuzzles up to me.

I giggle and start to walk around him. I pet his side and as I start wondering how to mount him, the horse kneels down. I gasp in awe, feeling that my luck has begun to change. I climb onto his back, and the horse rises up again.

“Oh, this is a miracle! You sweet thing you!” I try to lift my hand to pet his mane, but my palms are stuck fast to his back. 

“What is-” I can’t move at all. Every part of me that is touching the horse is stuck to him. “Oh god,” I whisper in a panic. “Oh god, no!” I struggle, but that only makes my fate worse. Where I am touching him, I start to sink into the horse’s flesh, so I am utterly trapped. 

The horse trots into the lake. His brilliant white hair spreads across the surface of the water, looking like tendrils. I realize too late that I have fallen prey to a Kelpie.

“Please! Please let me go!” I begin to cry. “Please! My son is dying! He needs me! Please!” I beg as the water rises up to my neck. I tilt my chin up and scream for the Kelpie to listen. “Let me save my son! I’ll give you a meal, just let me save my son!”

The Kelpie stills, then cuts his eyes back at me. His face is now more gaunt and haunting than before. The eyes are sunken and glowing, piercing through me as I struggle to keep my head above water.

“I’ll do anything, just let me save my baby!” I sob. “I’ll feed you a finger every day of travel if I must! Just let my baby live.”

“What makes you think I would bestow mercy on you and no one else?” The kelpie asks. “I have heard many people beg in many different ways. But all you ask for is more time?”

I nod. “Yes. Just let me get the medicine for my son.” Water is starting to fill my mouth. “Let me get the treatment to him and after that, I’ll let you have your meal!”

The kelpie walks closer to shore, allowing me to speak without water filling my mouth. “But I am hungry now,” he growls.

I cough and sputter. “I don’t have anything else to offer! I can only promise you myself when the time comes.”

The kelpie walks out of the water, and I drop to the ground. I look up at him, seeing he is wholly different from before. His legs are stick-thin like bones, wrapped in a stiff sinew that coils up to his torso, where gathered water is spilling from fresh cavities in his body. His head is skull-like, pointed, with a ghastly pink glow coming from his eyes. The once-beautiful mane and tail are stringy and draped along his body like a cloak.

“I don’t trust you.” The kelpie tilts his head. “You must take me with you.”

I shudder as I try to stand. Where my hands and legs were trapped in his body, they have pruned up and grown weak. “That’s fine,” I whisper. “Whatever it takes, I’ll comply.”

The kelpie returns to the guise of the beautiful horse I had seen before, the one that lured me into the trap. “Who are you, girl?”

“Imogen,” I sputter. “And you are?”

He hums and shakes his head. “No one has ever asked,” he says. “I have never had to respond to such a question.” He tosses his head a bit. “Let me think about it.”

“Oh,” I gasp. “I suppose no one would ask. Given you, uhm-” I stop myself before I go any further. “Nevermind.”

The kelpie stomps his hoof, then whinnies softly. “Call me Fionnla.”

It’s an odd-sounding name, especially on the tongue, but who am I to question his choice? “It is a good name,” I tell him. “Have you never had one?”

He casts me a dark look. “Does it matter?” he growls.

“No,” I take a step back from him. “Whatever you wish to be called, I’ll honor it. I promise you.”

Fionnla nods. “Good. Then hold out your hand.”

I stretch my hand out to Fionnla, and he chomps down on my finger. I cry out in pain as I pull my hand back. My blood is smeared on his lips, and he licks it away with his bright pink tongue.

“This is a bond,” he tells me. “From now on, I will be able to find you anywhere you are. Just in case you decide to run away from me.”

I clutch my hand close to my body as my palm fills with blood. “I was never going to run!” I snap at him.

“I cannot tell what you will or will not do,” Fionnla scoffs. “I do not know your heart. I do not know your morals!” He sniffs and shakes his head. “I am taking care of myself. I am protecting your promise.”

“My son’s life is at stake! That is our bond!” I bark at him. I rip a bit of my skirt off and wrap it around the bleeding finger. “I would never betray my son, therefore I would never betray you.” I storm away from him to collect my bag. I check the contents inside, finding everything is still there.

“Why not send the father to do it?” Fionnla quips behind me.

“Because he is not around,” I glare back at him.

“Oh,” Fionnla says softly. “I see. Unwed mother, are we? Illegitimate son, is he?”

“No!” I scream back at him. “His father is dead! He was also a horrid bastard!” I sigh and shake my head. “That’s why I have to do this alone.”

“Aren’t you worried your son will turn into his father?” Fionnla asks. 

“No,” I grumble. “Because already Olwen knows better. He will never know his father. For all he knows, he is a miracle.”

“That bad, was he?” Fionnla walks beside me as I go back to the road. “What’d he do then, that made him a ‘horrid bastard’?”

“Please, just leave it alone,” I scoff. “I don’t wish to talk about it. All I want is to make sure my son will be healthy and cared for before I uphold our bargain.” I glance up at Fionnla. “If you want this journey to be done faster, then why not let me ride on your back?”

“I figured you’d want to take your time.” Fionnla kneels down to allow me to ride him.

I grunt as I climb onto his back, relieved to find I no longer stick to him. “My son is sick, remember?”

“Oh, right,” he scoffs. “I’m not used to mothers caring.”

I furrow my brow at him, and his ears twitch. “That sounds like it could be sad.”

“Tragic,” Fionnla sighs. “But I won’t bore you just like you won’t bore me.”

We both go quiet for a long time as we ride. Once it starts to get dark, Fionnla veers off the trail and cuts into the woods. 

“Where are you going?” I snap. 

“I need water,” he grunts. “I can’t be without it for too long. There is a stream close to here.”

We walk further and further into the woods, into parts I would never venture alone. It feels suffocating here, as if the dark presence of the woods is pressing down on me. I cling closer to Fionnla, hunkering down my head as I close my eyes. 

“Much better.” Fionnla lays down in the small stream. He glances back at me and scoffs. “You scared or something?”

“Yes!” I huff.

“You’re with me, remember? I’m the scariest thing in these woods. Nothing will mess with you here.” Fionnla nudges me. “You should get some sleep anyway.”

I reluctantly look up, gazing into the thick forest around me. It feels as if there are eyes all around us, watching us while waiting for us to drop our guard. 

I step away from Fionnla and the stream, finding a small clearing beneath some tree boughs to lay down my cloak to sleep on. It’s too dark for me to look around for kindling to start a fire, so I resign myself to being cold for the night.

“Do you love your son, Imogen?” Fionnla asks. “Is that why you’re willing to die? Is it love, really? Or is that you feel a guilt you need to assuage?”

“He’s all I’ve got,” I whisper. “He’s everything to me. Olwen is my son, my saving grace. Without him, I’m not sure I would even want to live anymore.”

“Wow,” Fionnla whisper. “Bummer.”

I scoff and sit up, able to see him in the dark because of his white glow and haunting eyes. “You get to do as you please to me in the end, anyway! So what does it matter to you?” I huff and swat at mosquitoes around me. “I love him more than anything, more than myself. Does that satisfy your questions?”

Fionnla whips his tail through the air. “You have that much love to give?”

I slouch my shoulders. “I’m not sure where it comes from, but I do.”

“Even though you hated his father, you still have that much love for him? You don’t hate the part of him that comes from his father?” Fionnla’s voice is a low whisper.

“He looks more and more like his father every year,” I reply quietly. “And yes, there are times I resent that, but he is my son. He is not his father.”

Fionnla shifts in the stream. “How odd.”

I lay back down again. “Is it?”

“I won’t bore you,” Fionnla scoffs. “It’s best you go to sleep now. Enjoy being able to wake up while you can.”

“Yes, yes,” I huff. “Goodnight, Fionnla.”

For a long while, Fionnla is quiet. “Yes,” he whispers. “Goodnight, Imogen. Dream about your child if that brings you comfort.”

I crack my eyes open to glance back at him briefly before settling down to sleep. The sounds of the wood surround me, but all at once they vanish away. The night becomes quiet, with only a breeze whispering through the trees. It comforts me enough that I fall asleep, dreaming of playing with my son and reading him his favorite book.