Thousand thanks to my beta Eveiya, who saved this thingy from being one big plot hole. :-)
WILD HUNT / NOCTURNE
January 15, 1559 was a very cold winter day, and Beth could hardly see where she set foot. Her mother had wrapped her in a mass of coats and shawls, and only her eyes and the tip of her nose showed. She screwed up her eyes, because the sharp wind made them burn, and the snow pierced her skin like tiny daggers. She was tired, and her feet felt like two blocks of ice.
But despite all this, Beth was happy. What a splendid day this had been! She and her brother Will had been allowed to go and see the coronation, and Beth was more than a little proud that she carried the same name as the fair young Queen Elizabeth I. Will had lifted her up to sit on his shoulders, so she had seen everything in detail. The beautiful horses, the fair lords and ladies, and the queen, of course, smiling and waving at her people. Beth had waved back, and for a second, she had felt the gentle eyes of the Queen rest on her.
Beth couldn't wait to get home and tell her mother everything. She was full of scenes and colours and scents, and felt she would burst if she couldn't tell somebody all about it soon. Will had stayed behind to have a pint in the tavern. At first, he had insisted on walking her home, but Beth had firmly explained that she was ten years old and not a child anymore. He had given in soon and all too willingly, and Beth cherished the chance to recall the day's events in silence and on her own.
Her parent's home was a little outside the city, a small home, but tidy, and there was always enough wood for a fire and food on the table. This was more than many could claim for themselves these days, and Beth thanked the good lord above every night before she went to bed.
Her grandmother lived with them as well, and Beth loved her dearly. Oh, the tales she knew! Of knights and fair ladies, dragons and faeries! Though her father rolled his eyes, he never kept his mother from placing a tiny bowl of milk for the Brownies on the window sill.
"Do you think our garden stays so well-kept all by itself? No, no, Robert, it's the Brownies, I tell you."
Beth's father used to smile and pat his mother's bowed back.
“If you say so, mother,” he said, then went back to his work, grinning to himself.
Often, Beth would climb onto her grandmother's lap while the old woman sat in front of the fire, mending a torn piece of clothing - usually one of Will's - and she'd snuggle up close, hoping for a tale.
"Have you ever seen a faerie?" she had asked her grandmother the night before, though she knew the answer.
"Oh yes, when I was young - only the young and innocent can see them, Beth, and that's why they are not seen anymore these days, little one. We live in dark times, and the fair folk hide from us. But as a child, I did see one, I even heard her sing."
There was nothing Beth could have wished for more than to see a faerie. So she tried to be good, helping her mother and even holding back from teasing Will about his interest in the neighbour's daughter. But so far, she had not seen a faerie, so she had to rely on her grandmother's tales.
"What do faeries look like, grandmother?"
The old woman thought about it for a while, her mind wandering back over many, many years.
"I did see a faerie once, down by the river. In days of old, the world of the fair folk was not hidden from us, and mortals could see the great forest, with trees high as the sky, and all faerie folk lived there. Well, that was very long ago, even before my own grandfather was born, but when I was a child, with a pure heart, I was allowed to see one. Yes, I remember well - a beautiful lady it was, dark hair down to her waist, skin like milk and eyes like the stars. She wore a necklace with a sparkling gemstone, and she sang a tune so sweet it made me cry. I didn't dare to approach, and when she realized I was there, she disappeared."
"Why was the faerie there, grandmother?" Beth asked, because, as with every girl of her age, beautiful ladies wearing sparkling jewellery were of great interest to her.
The grandmother kissed the child.
"I don't know, Beth, I don't know. Maybe she had just been bathing, or was waiting for her lover. We will never know. But I will never forget her."
Beth yawned, but she was determined to get at least one more story out of her grandmother before she was sent to bed.
"Does the Black Rider also hunt faeries?" she asked.
"Oh, no, no, child, what a nonsense!"
The old woman pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders.
"One should not talk about the evils, lest you call them to you, Beth. Pray to the good lord above that you will never see the Black Rider, for all who do will certainly drop dead on the spot. He is out to get those who are lost in the night, evildoers and unbaptised children; his crows will feast on their eyes and he will carry the poor unfortunates’ souls directly to hell!"
Beth looked terrified, and now her mother felt it was really time for her to be in bed.
"Do not tell her such fairytales so late at night, mother, she will have nightmares."
"These are no fairytales," the grandmother protested, "the Black Rider is as real as you and I!"
"Yes, and so are the Brownies," grumbled Beth's father, and winked at Will, who was sitting by the fire, carving a horse. Will giggled, and Beth's grandmother looked sad.
"As I said, dark times, nobody believes anymore. Where will this end?"
Beth was a little angry with herself that she had to remember the tale of the Black Rider now, when she was walking alone in the dark. The wind had increased in force and was now howling, and Beth found it difficult to walk. She sank deep into the snow and had to pull out her feet after each step, which cost a lot of strength.
She was glad when she finally reached a small woodland, for then she knew that she was not too far away from her home any more. The trees broke some of the wind's force, and she gave a sigh of relief.
It was not long before she heard an odd sound. Beth stood still and listened - a horse? Yes, indeed - she could hear the sound of hooves thundering on the ground.
Beth chided herself for standing there, gawping, when her mother was probably already worrying about where she was, so she continued on her way, walking a little faster.
The sound of the horse came nearer. Beth reckoned this must be a nobleman who had attended the coronation festivities and was now on his way home. She stepped aside, keeping out of the way, for noble lords after a few beers or bottles of wine might not see a little girl on the road.
Closer and closer the sound came, then Beth stood still, her heart skipping a beat. The sound was not coming from the city - it was coming from the woods!
She stared straight ahead into the darkness, realising how silent the air had become. Even the wind had ceased, and all she could hear was the neighing of the horse. Beth stood as if frozen to the spot, and soon, she could make out a faint light in the distance. Not the flickering light of a lantern or a torch, no - more like the light of the moon and the stars above.
And then she saw him - a large, beautiful black horse, his mane flying, carrying a tall rider. Beth's hair stood on end when she realized that the horse’s hooves did not touch the ground. The animal looked like he was flying, and the thundering of the hooves sounded like an echo rather than a real noise.
Beth sank to her knees and began to pray. She was in no doubt now that the worst had happened, that she had been hunted down by the Black Rider who had come to take her soul. She squeezed her eyes shut and repeated all the prayers she knew over and over again, but finally the odd light became too bright, and Beth had to open her eyes.
The horse had stopped in front of her, and beautiful this horse was, certainly. But even more beautiful was the rider. Never had Beth seen a fairer being, not even among the nobles who had accompanied the Queen to the palace. He was tall - taller than any man Beth had ever seen - his dark hair long and wild, and he was clad in black velvet and leather. A black cloak covered his shoulders, and three crows were hovering above him.
Beth stared at the rider, terrified and sure that any moment now, the crows would peck her eyes out and the Black Rider would take her straight to hell. But to her surprise, he smiled, and said something she didn't understand.
It was a language she had never heard before, and the words sounded more sung than spoken. The rider smiled again, then he bowed his head as she had seen the noble lords do in front of a lady, and automatically, she got up and curtseyed.
The rider laughed, a sound like bells, but before Beth could say anything, he disappeared. The light was gone, the rider, the horse, the birds - and no hoof print marred the snow ahead of her.
It took Beth a moment to collect herself, then she began to run, run as fast as she could, and she didn't stop even as she saw the lit windows of her parents’ home.
She could not wait to tell her grandmother what she had experienced tonight. She had seen the Black Rider, and while he had been terrible in his beauty, she knew that she would not have to die, and that she had received a great gift in being allowed a glimpse of the enchanted world which was normally hidden from mortal eyes.