Chapter 2

“Ir’ll fookin murder yon fookin dags if they’n mither me sheep, Yon toffy git. Take theeself awa!”

It was unfortunate that Krill’s first human was an earthy Yorkshire farmer. He took longer to understand the exact meaning of the words being spoken, though he could tell this creature (as he thought of him) was not happy. When his mind sorted through to find relevant similes in his own tongue, he was angry. This was clearly some serf, how dare he speak in those tones to him! He was tempted to let his dogs go and take these woollies to teach the man a lesson. But he didn’t, he needed to know where he was to find if there was a way back.

The stag had taken advantage of the confusion and distraction and had fled over hill and dale. He would be remarked by many a naturalist and not a few hunters and became a legend in the area. Being from beyond the barrier, he would live much longer than is normal for deer in this world, and that gave rise to the stories that there was a small herd of white deer. Aside from the stories, news items and his introduction of new DNA to the local deer, making them famously fleet of foot, he passes out of our particular story.

“Excuse me my man. Where would this be?” Krill’s use of English was precise and grammatical and sounded to the farmer exactly as he expected, some toffy-nosed bastard from ‘doon Sarth’.

“Ya don’t even kna tha’? Why this be-an Sarnsdale. You lost yur friends?”

“I suppose I have, but perhaps not in the way you mean” Krill was racking his brains, was there a fairy ring nearby? “Thank you, now perhaps a hostelry is called for”

“Yee’ll be after the Dirty Duck” Krill look bemused “Yee’ll know it as The White Swan down’t’ hill”

Krill rode on, the unicorn was unsettled but confident that its rider was in control; unicorns are calmer than horses. There in the dell was the pub known as the Dirty Duck to the locals. Krill reached into his past history and dredged up the fact that he needed some metal discs or paper sheets to exchange for a malted drink. “I am lost I fear, and have lost all my money; could I give you my ring as payment?”

In any normal faery story the publican would have tested the gold with his teeth and welcomed the drinker; but this was closer to reality and the publican told him to “Fook off yer vagrant”

A fellow drinker took sympathy and bought him a drink of Todshort Bitter. “Thank you my friend, this is truly a pleasant beverage. Can you tell me where this place is?”

“This is Elfood Parva” The name perhaps indicated an understanding that there were elf lands nearby. Krill drank gratefully as his dogs and unicorn lapped water from the stream. A young girl of three with her mother, heading up to the bus stop to wait for her brother to arrive, stopped and looked. She was young enough not to be fooled into only seeing what you expected. She saw a unicorn, she saw an elf’s ears, she saw five impressive dogs. She pulled from her mother and, before her mother could stop her, she stroked the unicorn. The creature turned, ready to strike if attacked. Krill called and the animal relaxed, the dogs crowded round the girl and sniffed her. They could tell she knew them, though the humans nearby did not.

“Oh, please, don’t let your dog hurt her”

“My hounds will be gentle, fear not. She sees them”

The mother thought that an odd comment, called the girl, and they went on with the girl babbling about fairies and unicorns.

“Thank you sir, for your favour. Is there, I wonder, a faery ring near by? Or perhaps a special glade of trees associated with magic?”

“Oh, well now. Let me see” interjected an old gaffer. He was hoping for a free pint, in which he would be disappointed of course. “Ah, now on squire’s land there is Cantelope Hill. You know, the ring of trees that the foxes avoid” Even in the heat of a hunt the foxes often avoided that spinney. It was said that Lady Godbiva, the last of the Saxon nobility in these parts, had fled there when the Normans came; and she was never seen again. Some said she was just caught and killed (or worse) by Guy deMaupessant, who took over. Some said she entered the faery world. Whatever the truth, people knew it as a fairy hill and avoided it for eight hundred years, until the coming of steam engines and unbelief. It had only acquired the name Cantelope Hill in the last century due to its shape. “It had another name, I remember my father telling me once, what his father told him. Not what were the name? No, no, it’s gone. I remember the May Fayres before the war mind. They were some’at” But he had lost his audience. The customer had edged away and Krill was already riding towards the hill, followed by four of his dogs. The fifth had scented a bitch on heat and was sniffing out a mongrel who already had three suitors. She wanted none of them. The dogs turned on the newcomer, and then stopped. There was something fay about this large dog with the green eyes. Not that the dogs could see the eyes were green. A large Alsatian/Labrador cross leaped, and landed, confused, on empty ground. The next moment it was struggling to escape the grip round its throat. The hound heard his master’s high whistle and regretfully dropped the dog, looked longingly at the bitch, and left.