Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Secret of the Seal skin ❯ Chapter three: the Frozen Visitor ( Chapter 3 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Kakaro 
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.04.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 115 | Status: Work In Progress
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.04.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 115 | Status: Work In Progress
The Secret of the Sealskin
---
What would happen if an old myth, a fairytale often told by the fire, came true? After times full of misery Rowan returns to the Orkney Islands after the death
of her father, in hope to find peace for something she thinks she could not be forgiven for. In the end however, she finds quite something else in a mysterious man,
passionated by the sea, and by her?
DISCLAIMER: All the characters in this story are mine, and mine completly, meaning that I was the one who created them.
They are my property and cannot be used in other stories with my consent.
---
The "Brownie."
- Brownie is a personage of small stature, wrinkled visage, covered with short curly brown hair, and wearing a brown mantle and hood.
His residence is the hollow of the old tree, a ruined castle, or the abode of man, He is attached to particular families,
with whom he has been known to reside, even for centuries, threshing the corn,
cleaning the house, and doing everything done by his northern and English brethren.
Sometimes they do this in return for a cup of milk and cookies, sometimes for nothing.
However, when a brownie is given clothes, or a piece of garment in some tales, they will see it as a sign ' job well done' and flee the family and the house forever.
Think Dobby, but uglier. ;)
the "Roane."
Roane
Result of a union between a human and a selkie (a fey being able to assume human and seal form), roane (ROW-an)are children of the sea and the land,
able to partake in both but bound to neither.
Also another name for Selkie, in some parts of Great Britain.
---
Thanks for the reviews! I'll update as soon as I can! ;)
It is indeed a pity selkies are not used as character more often. They're not new-age, d*mmit!
---
Chapter three: The Frozen Visitor
The fierce wind had grown into a false storm, assaulting the shore and the beaches of the Island of Eday. The wind was howling, deafening ears,
attacking the windows left open.
The rain came crashing down on the roofs, running down the walls to the earth, washing clean streets and roads. It was no longer just a windy evening,
a full storm found it's way to the lonely island, and people hid in their homes, staying close to the warm fire, finding whiskey and telling tales for the impatient
youngsters.
Rowan Finn had no one to talk to, but she would never say that it ever remorsed her. A calm fire was burning in the blackened hearth, spreading a welcome
warmth through the tiny room which her father had appointed as the living room. An old chair stoon in the corner, near the old cooker, which had once belonged to her
grand-father. It could still be used, but she had never really trusted the old thing, but while the storm lasted she didn't have the choice.
The old oak bed had been moved into the small living room, as the old bedroom was no longer dry. Her father had sealed off the tiny room long ago. She had slept in the
same room as her father throughout the years that she had lived here, but her old bed stood folded in the corner, next to the old couch underneath the window.
She had opted to move it last time she had visited her father, fearing the window would leak, but her father had reassured her nothing would leak in his house.
She had wanted to remind him of the bedroom, but she had refrained herself, knowing her father only would have shrugged.
But her father had been right, even though the wind was blowing hard enough to even scare her, and the rain bashed against the window, everything was still dry
inside the white stone walls. Warm however, was not the case.
Whether it was because she had hadn't used the hearth before, or because of the strange thing that had happened in the afternoon. She had cooked dinner for herself,
dinner being a wamred can of soup, and had tried to read. However, the howling of the wind made it hard to concentrate, and for once she missed the radio,
or music in all. Even the sounds of the city she would welcome, if it could block the howling sound of the wind. It sounded like crying, high-pitched and bone freezing.
Almost as if someone was in a lot of pain and sorrow, but she had no desire to fantasize about anyone feeling hurt and sorrowful. She was on the edge of tears herself.
Everything reminded her of her father, the old fishnet hanging from the ceiling, the old cups, pots and pans, the old wooden table with the crack, even the old cowskin
that served as a carpet. Everything had a memory, a moment of thought, reminding her of her father.
Even the book she held in hand was no use, since it had been his. Hers now.
It was an old book, a collection of fairytales and old folklore of orkney. She had loved it as a child, her father had wanted to give it to her when she returned to London,
but she had refused. The folklore of Orkney only seemed enchanting on the Orkney islands itself, and she wanted to remember the feeling she had when reading the book
at home, on the island.
But now she was feeling nothing at all, aside from the dull feeling in her heart.
Placing the book on the shelf again she sighed, her eyes glancing at the other books for a moment, but felt no desire to read any of them. Most were not to her liking,
telling about fish and mainr plants. Her father had a great love for fishing and nature, she had never quite undertood, save the nature part. Her father had had a boat,
a long time ago she remembered.
She wondered if it still lay at the dock, in the harbour of Eday. She couldn't remember whether he had kept it or not.
Running a hand through her fiery red hair again she sighed. It was getting late, at least her old, worn watch told her so. She had nothing to do, except wait for the storm
to end. The fire was gently burning, warming her but slightly.
She had to conclude there was nothing left to do, except listening to the howling of the wind. The bed seemed aluring, and she had the hope the thick woolen sheets
would warm her up, since even the old waxcoat couldn't do much good either.
Throwing the thick coat on the chair, kicking out the thick boots she grabbed a jumper, diving underneath the sheets while she heard the fire cracking softly
on the background.
The rain was crashing against the window, but together with the soft sounds of the burning fire, and the warm feeling of the jumper wrapping her completly soon
made her snoozy. Heer feet were still frozen, but slowly warmth returned to her upper body, and she hid her face beneath the woolen blanket, blocking the cold
from outside.
Soon sleep came, carrying her to dreams and lands far away, to another time where everything was, as it once had been.
Too lost in her dreams, in her warm little world, she did not hear, nor see the stranger walking from the beach to the tiny little white house standing between the dunes,
the thornbushes and the grey stones laying around the house; creating an iddylic picture if the rain and the wind had not blurred the sight.
The stranger walked barefoot, bowing his head as the rain and wind whipped his face and bareback. Choosing his path carefully through the thorny bushes, and the unreliable
stones lying on the path, he made it to the house.
Eyes searched around, wide and fearful, as if he was looking for something. His eyes were large, and the deepest brown anyone would ever see, to big liquid orbs, as if they
contained water, shiny and pure. His features were soft, creating a kind face, if anyone ever dared to look underneath the thick brown hair, sticking to his skull as he was
wet through and through.
He shivered before the door, looking up at the small house as if he had a decision to make, holding himself, to keep any warmth to his bare body.
Something had brought him here, but now that he had arrived he was not sure what to do, or whether to do what he was ordered to do. Another shudder ripped
through his body, as if he had been exposed to the cold for too long.
He seemed indecisive whether to knock the door, but finally raised an arm, knocking on the wood of the door, causing an almost instant heartattack as the only
inhabitant of the tiny house was woken rudely.
She had not expected any visitors in this kind of weather, no one in the right mind would come through wind and weather to seek out the little stone house, in the middle
of nowhere, near a beach of all places.
She sat up in her bed, her hair already a mess after only a half an hour sleep, tangled in the woolen sheets. The fire was still burning, slowly but steadily, the wind was
still howling, the rain came crashing down. And yet she had been positive that she had heard a knock.
She got out of bed carefully, her eyes eying the old broom the corner, except for some old knives her only way of defense, and carefully slid her feet in the already cold
boots. She winced as she felt the cold leather, and gingerly walked towards the door, looking out of the window, but seeing no one.
"Hello?" She carefully called through the door, peering through a tiny hole in the wood she used as a peeking hole. There was someone standing before the door,
but she wondered who could be so stupid to come to her tiny little house, at almost eleven o'clock if she had to trust her watch.
She quickly found the rusted key, opening the door carefully as a gush of cold wind found it's way into her face, and her little house. Blinking against the cold she
let her eyes adjust to the darkness, only to see...
A completly naked man standing on her doorstep.
Her eyes grew wide, looking at the soaked figure standing before her, big brown orbs looking at her questiongly, probably just as surprised as she was.
"Oh my.." She managed to stutter, finding herself staring at him, and quite something else. "You're quite... naked..."
Realising how incredibly Brittish it sounded she quickly blushed, diverting her eyes.
A naked man stood on her doorstep, looking like he was frozen to the bone, and she was staring at his... Little John. She mentally scolded at herself, looking him in
the eyes to keep her attention from something else, forcing her brains to work.
It was a man, brown haired, completly naked. He was alone and it looked like he was directly coming from the beach.
Perhaps he came from the sea? Perhaps his ship had sank to the bottom of the ocean, and he was the only survivor... The idea was quite reasonable, after all, the seas
around the Orkney Islands were treacherous, and the sea as it was now was not pleasant to sail.
Perhaps he had lost his memory, and in the process his clothes, she did not know. She had heard enough stories of lost memory after shipbreak lately to believe it was
possible.
She decided to play safe, and she looked back into those eyes which she to note, were quite.. unusual.
"What is your name, do you remember your name?" He looked at her as if he was trying to determine with who he was dealing with, and she could almost feel
the word 'inasane' coming from his lips as he stared at her disbelieving.
"Of course I know my name.." He said through clattering teeth. "My name is Cian." he stared at her as if she was the stranger, in a familiar place, and she diverted
her eyes again, feeling uncomfortable by his staring. "You're not Leod..."
So he was a local, perhaps the local madman since he was running around in his naked Adam suit. He had known her father, and he was smart to see she was not her
father. She sighed, her face freezing by the wind alone, and cracked her brains.
She couldn't let him in, he was a complete stranger, but neither could she throw him out again. Her heart was winning from her mind, and she bit her bottom lip, her eyebrows
frowning above undecisive green eyes.
"Well then, Cian," She said, stepping aside. "Will you not come in, it is freezing outside."
He glared at her suspeciously, as if he wasn't sure what to do himself. If she had been him she would've taken a beeline to the fire, but apparently he was stronger than that.
"Where's Leod?" He asked, glaring at her in a strange sort of way.
She sighed, not wanting to expain anything in the cold doorway, and she rubbed her forehead. "Come in," She said tiredly, knowing she would not offer it again. He seemed
to think the same, as he looked at her a final time, before stepping over the doorstep, into the tiny little living room.
Rowan closed the door behind her, turning to the naked backside of the man. A rather well toned backside of a man. Clearing her thoughts she shook her head,
quickly trying to think of a way to warm the man, Cian, her unexpected visitor, as quickly as possible...
---
What would happen if an old myth, a fairytale often told by the fire, came true? After times full of misery Rowan returns to the Orkney Islands after the death
of her father, in hope to find peace for something she thinks she could not be forgiven for. In the end however, she finds quite something else in a mysterious man,
passionated by the sea, and by her?
DISCLAIMER: All the characters in this story are mine, and mine completly, meaning that I was the one who created them.
They are my property and cannot be used in other stories with my consent.
---
The "Brownie."
- Brownie is a personage of small stature, wrinkled visage, covered with short curly brown hair, and wearing a brown mantle and hood.
His residence is the hollow of the old tree, a ruined castle, or the abode of man, He is attached to particular families,
with whom he has been known to reside, even for centuries, threshing the corn,
cleaning the house, and doing everything done by his northern and English brethren.
Sometimes they do this in return for a cup of milk and cookies, sometimes for nothing.
However, when a brownie is given clothes, or a piece of garment in some tales, they will see it as a sign ' job well done' and flee the family and the house forever.
Think Dobby, but uglier. ;)
the "Roane."
Roane
Result of a union between a human and a selkie (a fey being able to assume human and seal form), roane (ROW-an)are children of the sea and the land,
able to partake in both but bound to neither.
Also another name for Selkie, in some parts of Great Britain.
---
Thanks for the reviews! I'll update as soon as I can! ;)
It is indeed a pity selkies are not used as character more often. They're not new-age, d*mmit!
---
Chapter three: The Frozen Visitor
The fierce wind had grown into a false storm, assaulting the shore and the beaches of the Island of Eday. The wind was howling, deafening ears,
attacking the windows left open.
The rain came crashing down on the roofs, running down the walls to the earth, washing clean streets and roads. It was no longer just a windy evening,
a full storm found it's way to the lonely island, and people hid in their homes, staying close to the warm fire, finding whiskey and telling tales for the impatient
youngsters.
Rowan Finn had no one to talk to, but she would never say that it ever remorsed her. A calm fire was burning in the blackened hearth, spreading a welcome
warmth through the tiny room which her father had appointed as the living room. An old chair stoon in the corner, near the old cooker, which had once belonged to her
grand-father. It could still be used, but she had never really trusted the old thing, but while the storm lasted she didn't have the choice.
The old oak bed had been moved into the small living room, as the old bedroom was no longer dry. Her father had sealed off the tiny room long ago. She had slept in the
same room as her father throughout the years that she had lived here, but her old bed stood folded in the corner, next to the old couch underneath the window.
She had opted to move it last time she had visited her father, fearing the window would leak, but her father had reassured her nothing would leak in his house.
She had wanted to remind him of the bedroom, but she had refrained herself, knowing her father only would have shrugged.
But her father had been right, even though the wind was blowing hard enough to even scare her, and the rain bashed against the window, everything was still dry
inside the white stone walls. Warm however, was not the case.
Whether it was because she had hadn't used the hearth before, or because of the strange thing that had happened in the afternoon. She had cooked dinner for herself,
dinner being a wamred can of soup, and had tried to read. However, the howling of the wind made it hard to concentrate, and for once she missed the radio,
or music in all. Even the sounds of the city she would welcome, if it could block the howling sound of the wind. It sounded like crying, high-pitched and bone freezing.
Almost as if someone was in a lot of pain and sorrow, but she had no desire to fantasize about anyone feeling hurt and sorrowful. She was on the edge of tears herself.
Everything reminded her of her father, the old fishnet hanging from the ceiling, the old cups, pots and pans, the old wooden table with the crack, even the old cowskin
that served as a carpet. Everything had a memory, a moment of thought, reminding her of her father.
Even the book she held in hand was no use, since it had been his. Hers now.
It was an old book, a collection of fairytales and old folklore of orkney. She had loved it as a child, her father had wanted to give it to her when she returned to London,
but she had refused. The folklore of Orkney only seemed enchanting on the Orkney islands itself, and she wanted to remember the feeling she had when reading the book
at home, on the island.
But now she was feeling nothing at all, aside from the dull feeling in her heart.
Placing the book on the shelf again she sighed, her eyes glancing at the other books for a moment, but felt no desire to read any of them. Most were not to her liking,
telling about fish and mainr plants. Her father had a great love for fishing and nature, she had never quite undertood, save the nature part. Her father had had a boat,
a long time ago she remembered.
She wondered if it still lay at the dock, in the harbour of Eday. She couldn't remember whether he had kept it or not.
Running a hand through her fiery red hair again she sighed. It was getting late, at least her old, worn watch told her so. She had nothing to do, except wait for the storm
to end. The fire was gently burning, warming her but slightly.
She had to conclude there was nothing left to do, except listening to the howling of the wind. The bed seemed aluring, and she had the hope the thick woolen sheets
would warm her up, since even the old waxcoat couldn't do much good either.
Throwing the thick coat on the chair, kicking out the thick boots she grabbed a jumper, diving underneath the sheets while she heard the fire cracking softly
on the background.
The rain was crashing against the window, but together with the soft sounds of the burning fire, and the warm feeling of the jumper wrapping her completly soon
made her snoozy. Heer feet were still frozen, but slowly warmth returned to her upper body, and she hid her face beneath the woolen blanket, blocking the cold
from outside.
Soon sleep came, carrying her to dreams and lands far away, to another time where everything was, as it once had been.
Too lost in her dreams, in her warm little world, she did not hear, nor see the stranger walking from the beach to the tiny little white house standing between the dunes,
the thornbushes and the grey stones laying around the house; creating an iddylic picture if the rain and the wind had not blurred the sight.
The stranger walked barefoot, bowing his head as the rain and wind whipped his face and bareback. Choosing his path carefully through the thorny bushes, and the unreliable
stones lying on the path, he made it to the house.
Eyes searched around, wide and fearful, as if he was looking for something. His eyes were large, and the deepest brown anyone would ever see, to big liquid orbs, as if they
contained water, shiny and pure. His features were soft, creating a kind face, if anyone ever dared to look underneath the thick brown hair, sticking to his skull as he was
wet through and through.
He shivered before the door, looking up at the small house as if he had a decision to make, holding himself, to keep any warmth to his bare body.
Something had brought him here, but now that he had arrived he was not sure what to do, or whether to do what he was ordered to do. Another shudder ripped
through his body, as if he had been exposed to the cold for too long.
He seemed indecisive whether to knock the door, but finally raised an arm, knocking on the wood of the door, causing an almost instant heartattack as the only
inhabitant of the tiny house was woken rudely.
She had not expected any visitors in this kind of weather, no one in the right mind would come through wind and weather to seek out the little stone house, in the middle
of nowhere, near a beach of all places.
She sat up in her bed, her hair already a mess after only a half an hour sleep, tangled in the woolen sheets. The fire was still burning, slowly but steadily, the wind was
still howling, the rain came crashing down. And yet she had been positive that she had heard a knock.
She got out of bed carefully, her eyes eying the old broom the corner, except for some old knives her only way of defense, and carefully slid her feet in the already cold
boots. She winced as she felt the cold leather, and gingerly walked towards the door, looking out of the window, but seeing no one.
"Hello?" She carefully called through the door, peering through a tiny hole in the wood she used as a peeking hole. There was someone standing before the door,
but she wondered who could be so stupid to come to her tiny little house, at almost eleven o'clock if she had to trust her watch.
She quickly found the rusted key, opening the door carefully as a gush of cold wind found it's way into her face, and her little house. Blinking against the cold she
let her eyes adjust to the darkness, only to see...
A completly naked man standing on her doorstep.
Her eyes grew wide, looking at the soaked figure standing before her, big brown orbs looking at her questiongly, probably just as surprised as she was.
"Oh my.." She managed to stutter, finding herself staring at him, and quite something else. "You're quite... naked..."
Realising how incredibly Brittish it sounded she quickly blushed, diverting her eyes.
A naked man stood on her doorstep, looking like he was frozen to the bone, and she was staring at his... Little John. She mentally scolded at herself, looking him in
the eyes to keep her attention from something else, forcing her brains to work.
It was a man, brown haired, completly naked. He was alone and it looked like he was directly coming from the beach.
Perhaps he came from the sea? Perhaps his ship had sank to the bottom of the ocean, and he was the only survivor... The idea was quite reasonable, after all, the seas
around the Orkney Islands were treacherous, and the sea as it was now was not pleasant to sail.
Perhaps he had lost his memory, and in the process his clothes, she did not know. She had heard enough stories of lost memory after shipbreak lately to believe it was
possible.
She decided to play safe, and she looked back into those eyes which she to note, were quite.. unusual.
"What is your name, do you remember your name?" He looked at her as if he was trying to determine with who he was dealing with, and she could almost feel
the word 'inasane' coming from his lips as he stared at her disbelieving.
"Of course I know my name.." He said through clattering teeth. "My name is Cian." he stared at her as if she was the stranger, in a familiar place, and she diverted
her eyes again, feeling uncomfortable by his staring. "You're not Leod..."
So he was a local, perhaps the local madman since he was running around in his naked Adam suit. He had known her father, and he was smart to see she was not her
father. She sighed, her face freezing by the wind alone, and cracked her brains.
She couldn't let him in, he was a complete stranger, but neither could she throw him out again. Her heart was winning from her mind, and she bit her bottom lip, her eyebrows
frowning above undecisive green eyes.
"Well then, Cian," She said, stepping aside. "Will you not come in, it is freezing outside."
He glared at her suspeciously, as if he wasn't sure what to do himself. If she had been him she would've taken a beeline to the fire, but apparently he was stronger than that.
"Where's Leod?" He asked, glaring at her in a strange sort of way.
She sighed, not wanting to expain anything in the cold doorway, and she rubbed her forehead. "Come in," She said tiredly, knowing she would not offer it again. He seemed
to think the same, as he looked at her a final time, before stepping over the doorstep, into the tiny little living room.
Rowan closed the door behind her, turning to the naked backside of the man. A rather well toned backside of a man. Clearing her thoughts she shook her head,
quickly trying to think of a way to warm the man, Cian, her unexpected visitor, as quickly as possible...