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monkeybardAll About Afagddu
By MonkeyBard
Rating: G
Length: 846
Universe: BBC-Sherlock
Genre: Magical Realism
Summary: John learns why Creirwy has brought him to Winnie.
Date: 15 July 2019
JWP #15: Quote Prompt: “Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.” (Ray Bradbury) Use the quote however it inspires you, it does not need to be directly included in the fill.
A/N: Part four of Capture the Cauldron (this year’s Winnie story).
“Winnie! You’re all right!”
“That’s a relative term, John,” she replied, weirdly reminding him of Sherlock. It wasn’t a comparison he’d ever expected to make.
The ginger-haired goddess was tired and when John observed her properly, he could see that. His surprise at her sudden appearance, particularly her transformation from hawk to human, had distracted him from her weary demeanour. She was dressed differently than usual, too, as suited the environment. Instead of the flowing skirts, nerdy t-shirts, and long cardigans he was used to seeing her in, she wore sturdy trousers the colour of clay and a worn, cream jumper over a plaid flannel shirt. Her feet were in muddy brogues and an oversized jacket enveloped her. She looked like a photograph of a mid-century Welsh farmer or shepherd, he thought.
She sat on the grass behind the mound that hid them from the cottage in the valley beyond. Immediately, Creirwy climbed into her lap and she began to pet the corgi, giving her a kiss on the head. “Ie, fy cariad, I’m glad to see you, too. Thank you for bringing John.”
John sat down beside them. “Beauty said she knows who took your cauldron.”
Winnie’s eyebrows went up in genuine surprise as she looked between John and her daughter. “Oh! She deigned to speak to you, did she?”
“Well, not exactly. I asked her lots of yes-or-no questions, and she gave me perfectly canine yes-or-no answers.”
“That makes more sense.”
“We had some practice that night we kept her at Baker Street for you. I think I’m getting the hang of it since then. Also, she’s very good at making herself understood.”
She kissed dog’s head again. “Well done, merch.” Then she smiled at John. “And well done you too, ŵyr.”
“Um, Winnie…” He had so many questions. Where to start?
Winnie asked the important ones for him. “Where are we and why do I need you here?”
“For starters, yes. Please.”
She sighed and ousted Creirwy from her lap, muttering something in Welsh that John didn’t catch and wouldn’t have understood if he had. The dog did, of course, and trotted off. It looked to John like she was guarding the perimeter, such as it was.
Winnie was silent for several seconds and he got the impression she was having as much trouble choosing answers as he’d had choosing questions. He decided to try to help her out as she’d helped him.
“We’re in Wales, if I understood Beauty correctly. Someone’s stolen your cauldron, which has a lot of power. That person has it in the cottage I saw over this hill. Or something like that.”
“Very close, yes. The person in question is Afagddu.”
“Seriously? I’ll never pronounce that right, either,” bemoaned John who’d never gotten the hang of “Creirwy.” Rather than flinching every time she heard him try to say it, Winnie had told him to call the dog Beauty.
Winnie actually chuckled despite the situation. “Will Morfran roll off your English tongue better?”
“I’ll have a better shot at it, anyway.”
“Morfran, then.” She took a breath. “He’s my son. Some of our folk would say he’s quite mad. Even the fey like to put people in boxes,” she said dryly. Then added with a scowl, “There are even those who would do it literally. Cage him up if they could, and if they could get away with it.”
John could tell from the fury in her eyes and ferocity in her tone that whatever sins her son had committed, she wasn’t going to let that happen.
Abruptly, the fight went out of her. She sighed, pained by memories. “In truth, he’s simply angry and bitter. Always has been since the day he was born. And that business with Taliesin only made things worse.”
John recognized that name, for a wonder, but knew nothing of ancient bard’s story. He didn’t ask for details. If they mattered, she would tell him. Right now their primary concern was recovering the stolen cauldron.
“Presumably you can’t just go in there and confront Morfran and get your cauldron back or you’d’ve done it.”
“True. If it were that easy, I wouldn’t have risked bringing you here. You should know, John, this place is dangerous.”
He looked around the quiet, empty landscape and saw nothing threatening. Not even a storm cloud. In the distance, he spotted Creirwy, alternately sniffing the air and the ground as she stood sentinel along the horizon. He tried to ease the tension with a bit of levity. “Oh, I don’t know. I had a Gran from Aberystwyth. I think Wales and I get along all right.”
“It’s not just Wales.”
“What?”
“Never mind that for now. I know about your Gran. That’s part of why I need you.”
“But I’m just a human being. A mortal.” It sounded silly, but wasn’t that the sort of thing fairies called humans? “What can I do here that you can’t?”
She looked him square in the eyes and he couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. “You can get inside Morfran’s cottage.”
By MonkeyBard
Rating: G
Length: 846
Universe: BBC-Sherlock
Genre: Magical Realism
Summary: John learns why Creirwy has brought him to Winnie.
Date: 15 July 2019
JWP #15: Quote Prompt: “Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.” (Ray Bradbury) Use the quote however it inspires you, it does not need to be directly included in the fill.
A/N: Part four of Capture the Cauldron (this year’s Winnie story).
“Winnie! You’re all right!”
“That’s a relative term, John,” she replied, weirdly reminding him of Sherlock. It wasn’t a comparison he’d ever expected to make.
The ginger-haired goddess was tired and when John observed her properly, he could see that. His surprise at her sudden appearance, particularly her transformation from hawk to human, had distracted him from her weary demeanour. She was dressed differently than usual, too, as suited the environment. Instead of the flowing skirts, nerdy t-shirts, and long cardigans he was used to seeing her in, she wore sturdy trousers the colour of clay and a worn, cream jumper over a plaid flannel shirt. Her feet were in muddy brogues and an oversized jacket enveloped her. She looked like a photograph of a mid-century Welsh farmer or shepherd, he thought.
She sat on the grass behind the mound that hid them from the cottage in the valley beyond. Immediately, Creirwy climbed into her lap and she began to pet the corgi, giving her a kiss on the head. “Ie, fy cariad, I’m glad to see you, too. Thank you for bringing John.”
John sat down beside them. “Beauty said she knows who took your cauldron.”
Winnie’s eyebrows went up in genuine surprise as she looked between John and her daughter. “Oh! She deigned to speak to you, did she?”
“Well, not exactly. I asked her lots of yes-or-no questions, and she gave me perfectly canine yes-or-no answers.”
“That makes more sense.”
“We had some practice that night we kept her at Baker Street for you. I think I’m getting the hang of it since then. Also, she’s very good at making herself understood.”
She kissed dog’s head again. “Well done, merch.” Then she smiled at John. “And well done you too, ŵyr.”
“Um, Winnie…” He had so many questions. Where to start?
Winnie asked the important ones for him. “Where are we and why do I need you here?”
“For starters, yes. Please.”
She sighed and ousted Creirwy from her lap, muttering something in Welsh that John didn’t catch and wouldn’t have understood if he had. The dog did, of course, and trotted off. It looked to John like she was guarding the perimeter, such as it was.
Winnie was silent for several seconds and he got the impression she was having as much trouble choosing answers as he’d had choosing questions. He decided to try to help her out as she’d helped him.
“We’re in Wales, if I understood Beauty correctly. Someone’s stolen your cauldron, which has a lot of power. That person has it in the cottage I saw over this hill. Or something like that.”
“Very close, yes. The person in question is Afagddu.”
“Seriously? I’ll never pronounce that right, either,” bemoaned John who’d never gotten the hang of “Creirwy.” Rather than flinching every time she heard him try to say it, Winnie had told him to call the dog Beauty.
Winnie actually chuckled despite the situation. “Will Morfran roll off your English tongue better?”
“I’ll have a better shot at it, anyway.”
“Morfran, then.” She took a breath. “He’s my son. Some of our folk would say he’s quite mad. Even the fey like to put people in boxes,” she said dryly. Then added with a scowl, “There are even those who would do it literally. Cage him up if they could, and if they could get away with it.”
John could tell from the fury in her eyes and ferocity in her tone that whatever sins her son had committed, she wasn’t going to let that happen.
Abruptly, the fight went out of her. She sighed, pained by memories. “In truth, he’s simply angry and bitter. Always has been since the day he was born. And that business with Taliesin only made things worse.”
John recognized that name, for a wonder, but knew nothing of ancient bard’s story. He didn’t ask for details. If they mattered, she would tell him. Right now their primary concern was recovering the stolen cauldron.
“Presumably you can’t just go in there and confront Morfran and get your cauldron back or you’d’ve done it.”
“True. If it were that easy, I wouldn’t have risked bringing you here. You should know, John, this place is dangerous.”
He looked around the quiet, empty landscape and saw nothing threatening. Not even a storm cloud. In the distance, he spotted Creirwy, alternately sniffing the air and the ground as she stood sentinel along the horizon. He tried to ease the tension with a bit of levity. “Oh, I don’t know. I had a Gran from Aberystwyth. I think Wales and I get along all right.”
“It’s not just Wales.”
“What?”
“Never mind that for now. I know about your Gran. That’s part of why I need you.”
“But I’m just a human being. A mortal.” It sounded silly, but wasn’t that the sort of thing fairies called humans? “What can I do here that you can’t?”
She looked him square in the eyes and he couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. “You can get inside Morfran’s cottage.”
no subject
Date: 2019-07-16 04:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-16 05:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-16 06:50 am (UTC)*makes note to tell
no subject
Date: 2019-07-16 03:42 pm (UTC)Hmm... Well, it won't be today's prompt. "No dogs allowed", indeed! Harrumph!