The Downhill Fey Forest

Elizabeth here: time for another series! It might be short or long, but I'm definitely making multiple parts to this. I hope you all like sexy fantasy creatures: enjoy!

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Alban, an attractive young courier, had been paid to deliver an envelope from Lord Edmund to Queen Elagwyn. Edmund was the ruler of the small human kingdom of Terbius, which was East of Rosenia, the elf kingdom that Elagwyn ruled. Alban had never been to the elven capital, but he had visited some smaller elven towns before on his journeys.

Alban did not want to go through the Fey Forest, which was the shortest route between the two kingdoms and their capitals. He was familar with the tales of fey creatures in the forest; they could be considered playful only if trickery, torture, and kidnapping constituted play. This was why he had never been there for himself.

If he had a choice, he would have gone through the mountains, which were far safer despite being a longer journey. But Edmund had demanded that the letter be delivered in two days, and offered to pay ten times Alban's normal rate for it. Because work was dry and Alban needed the money, he had no choice but to accept, and now he stood at the very edge of the Fey Forest.

It was noon. The nearest town was behind a grassy hill and out of sight. It was just him and the green wilderness. The air was warm, a gentle wind blew, and the forest canopy cast a shadow on the dirt, debris, and smaller plants underneath. Birds were chirping, and he saw a robin fly between the trees above. Alban took slow steps into the shade of the forest. It was pleasantly cool in the shade. He kept going.

As he walked, Alban wondered what would be waiting for him in the depths of the forest. He stepped around bushes, over small ferns, and under low hanging branches as he trekked deeper. Soon, the hill outside was invisible, and he was surrounded on all sides by forest. It was thicker now, and less light filtered through the foliage above.

Completely immersed in the calm woods, there was nowhere to go but forward. It was almost relaxing. The crisp, cool air, the gentle wind, the fluttering of light from above: it almost made him forget the dangers that lurked within. Most days, forests were usually either too hot, or too cold, or the humidity wasn't right, or the wind was too strong or too still... but today in these woods, it was perfect. Was it normal for this place? He didn't know. He kept going.

About half an hour in, the land of the forest gradually began to form a gentle slope as he trekked forward. He liked going downhill when he was walking, and was glad he wasn't on a horse. Going downhill on a fast moving horse always filled him with anxiety, but walking down a smooth, gentle slope instead was almost therapeutic for him since it didn't take much effort. The uneven dirt and foliage wasn't as smooth as the roads he preferred, but it was close enough.

He descended deeper down the slope as he daydreamed. He thought about the elven capital. How beautiful was the palace? What was Elagwyn like? Elves had a reputation for beauty, and the most powerful of them had a habit of keeping up their looks...

The forest grew dimmer as the canopy above thickened. It grew more quiet as he descended down the slope. He had already traveled far down. Probably not much farther to go until the slope flattened out. The environment was calm, so if something was in the woods, he would hear it. Even though he knew it was dangerous, the environment still felt safe and serene.

Even though less light filtered through the canopy as he descended, the foliage on the ground grew thicker, and flowers of all kinds began to appear more often. Soft grass took the place of bare dirt more often as he descended.

Half an hour passed. Alban began to grow weary. How far down did this slope go? He thought he was going down a small slope, but this was much larger than he thought. Another half hour passed. It went down and down, deeper and deeper... sunlight still filtered from above, so he wasn't in a cave. He checked his compass, and confirmed he was going in the right direction.

More time passed. The sound of flowing water came from ahead. He pushed a thick, leafy branch aside and stepped under it. Behind it was a small, gentle stream, which ran in a small trench perpendicular to the hill's slope. Flowers grew by its bank.

That wasn't right. Didn't water normally flow down hills, and not side to side? How would a stream form in this direction? But, the stream looked natural. There was a large rock in the middle of the stream, so Alban used it as a stepping stone across, and reached the other side.

He kept going downhill. The canopy's thickness remained consistent, and so did the density of foliage. It was a relief. Yet something was off. He didn't recognize those round, blue flowers that grew by some of the trees, and there were more butterflies in this part of the forest than in a normal one. And, the forest's slope should have evened out a long time ago. How long was he in here? Two hours? Three? And most of that had been spent going downhill.

And finally, he reached the bottom of the slope, and found a long stretch of level ground. A wave of relief went through him. He trekked onward, happy that the geography was only moderately screwed up, and not completely nonsensical.

He stopped to rest on a freshly fallen log by a small patch of pink tulips, and took in the beauty of the forest. The occasional butterfly, the flowers, the trees...

...and a faint giggling sound in the distance.

Alban stood up. There was nothing in the direction of the giggle. Did he imagine it? He didn't think so. The giggle was faint, but clear. Maybe it was a good time to start moving again.

He crept ahead, keeping an eye out for anything odd. The foliage thickened to his left and right, almost giving the forest a tunnel-like quality.

Another voice, somewhere to his right.

"Is he going to?" a girl's voice said. It had a faint aura of smugness to it.

"Ooh! I think he is," another voice said. It was similar to the first, but a little less smug and a little more excited.

Alban wondered whether or not he should acknowledge the voices. He decided to pretend to be ignorant of them, but he took note of where his knife was on his belt.

He stepped around a tree. There was a tiny clearing ahead. The grass here was a little bluish, and the air smelled sweet, but it otherwise looked safe. He stepped inside. The outer edge was safe. He took another step forward, and...

...and his foot passed through the grass. He stumbled forward as the grass dissolved into a fine, white mist; he had met sorcerers before, and knew that this was some kind of illusion similar to theirs. What was hidden underneath? He fell through the fog and into a hole in the forest floor. He panicked, and tried to reach around for something, anything to grab onto. But, there was nothing. He tumbled forward.

His legs splashed into a thick, sticky liquid at the bottom. He pressed his hands into the wall, keeping himself upright.

He had fallen five feet into a pit of... honey? He was waist-deep in the sticky, sweet honey. Who put this here?

There was laughter above him. He could move his arms, and thankfully, his backpack wasn't soaked in it. But, it was hard to move his legs.

He looked up, and saw two tiny, winged girls hovering above him, and both were laughing hard. Actual fairies? They both had the proportions of an elf woman, but they were both twelve inches tall. They hovered above his reach with their dragonfly-like wings, and both wore dresses made of flower petals.

The one with the pink wings and pink petal dress tried to resist laughing for a moment and spoke. She had the more excited voice. "You actually..." She tried to keep speaking, but broke out in another fit of laughter.

The light blue-clad fairy managed to resist the laughter. She was the more smug one. "Got you," she said to Alban. "How about a hello?" Alban tried to climb out, but his legs struggled in the thick honey. He inched his way through the waist deep honey and towards the edge of the pit; although he could reach the outer wall, the top ledge was just out of reach for now.

Alban spoke. "Hello? Who the hell are..."

"Snowdrop and Sundrop," the blue fairy said, pointing to herself, then the pink fairy, who was starting to recover from her laughter. Was it really that funny?

Alban could almost reach the edge of the pit. Just another few inches, and he could grab onto a sturdy clod of grass and dirt to try and pull himself out.

Snowdrop and Sundrop hovered a little higher in the air, and watched Alban as he struggled. "Wow," Sundrop said. "Is he really having that much trouble? He's so big, you'd think it would be easier..." She giggled.

"Shut up," Alban said. Surprise and shock was starting to give way to hatred.

Finally, he had waded close enough to the edge to grab the edge. The grass had deep roots, and the ground was sturdy. He tried to pull himself up, but the honey made it hard. He managed to pull his feet off the bottom of the pit: a good start. He was starting to rise out of the honey.

"Good luck cleaning that out of your pants," Snowdrop said.

Sundrop let out another burst of laughter. Alban wondered why. Did that fairy make a dirty joke on purpose? Either way, he hated it, and he hated them. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to get out of this pit and away from them.

He kept lifting himself up, and could reach farther out of the pit. Although he was coming closer to victory, this honey was a nightmare. It was clinging to his pants as he rose out of the pit,

adding weight to his legs.

At last, he was all the way out of the pit. He finally swung a honey-soaked leg onto the surface, pulled his other leg out, and stood up. He turned around. Snowdrop and Sundrop were hovering above him, and out of his reach. He thought about throwing something.

"What next?" Sundrop asked. "Should we do the..."

"Shhh, don't talk about it in front of him," Snowdrop said. She then turned to Alban. "That was fun. Wanna jump in again?"

"No," Alban said.

"Aww. Maybe later," Snowdrop said. "But it was so funny seeing you fall in, so we're gonna get you again!"

The possibility frightened Alban. He had heard the tales and myths about this place. Was the honey just torture foreplay?

"Please don't," he said. He did his best to appear stoic and unafraid.

"Nah," Sundrop said. "We're gonna do another prank! We're telling you about it now, and you'll still fall for it! Let's get outta here." The two fairies flew up into the trees above, and vanished from view. Soon, the fluttering of their wings faded into the distance, and Alban was left alone by the honey pit.

There was nothing to do but move on. The honey coasting his pants, shoes, and legs weighed him down as he walked, so he soon found a stick and scraped off globs of honey. That took away some of the weight, but he still needed to find a water source to wash out the rest.

He trekked forward, with the sweet scent of honey following him everywhere he went. More of the grass was starting to take on a bluish tinge, and the foliage thickened. He couldn't see twenty feet ahead. Soon, he came to another downward slope. It wouldn't be as long as the last, right? And maybe going downhill again would take him farther away from those fairies.

As he hiked down another slope, he thought about what Snowdrop had said. They would trick him again, and he would fall for it. Certainly he wouldn't be that dumb, right? Earlier, he had heard giggling and rustling before they struck. So, he formulated a plan: the moment he heard them come again, he would grab the longest stick nearby and start poking the ground. This way, no illusion in front of him could fool him. It was the old ten-foot-pole strategy.

The slope kept going deeper and deeper down. The sunlight filtering from above began to dim, and he couldn't find any running water. How far down had he climbed? What time was it? Was the canopy thickening, or was the sun setting? He had no idea. Leaves and other little bits of detritus begun to stick to his pants. A few shiny, pink butterflies fluttered around him, and landed on his pants. They ignored him when he leaned down to get a closer look. Lured in by the honey? At least now he knew how to catch them, if he ever wanted. They didn't look harmful, so he let the butterflies do their thing.

The slope kept going down. Butterflies landed on him every now and then and left soon after, but no flies or unpleasant bugs gathered near him. When he saw a patch of glowing blue mushrooms on the slope, he thought that maybe this forest was too magical for common vermin like flies and rats. It certainly looked pretty.

Another hour passed. The light filtering from above grew dimmer as he descended deeper. The foliage started to lighten up again, improving his visibility. Even with his endurance, Alban was growing tired. He wondered where he could sleep, but also wondered what the fairies might do to him if he slept. Might he wake up trapped in another, deeper pit of honey? Surrounded by entangling vines? Or would they just put his hand in a bowl of warm water? He tried to think about these less harmful pranks rather than wonder about the worst possible outcomes: kidnapping, torture, and death. He hoped that those fairies were merely playful jerks, and not outright sadists.

But at the very least, he only had to sleep in this forest once. Then, he could escape on the second day, deliver the envelope to Elagwyn, and return home via the mountains. He just had to survive the rest of tonight and most of tomorrow. Yet, part of him worried about this plan. He had gone so far downhill that there should have been no more downhill to go, yet that was ages ago, and he had descended far beyond that.

At last, the terrain evened out as the faint glimmers of sky above began to grow pink. It cast a relaxing hue on the forest. Yet, even though the sky was pink, all the trees and grass had a sort of bluish hue. Before now, he was aware that the grass had been turning blue, but the trees' slow transition from green to blue-green had crept up on him so slowly that he hadn't noticed.

As he trekked onward, he had a thought. It was just one night. Why not keep going in the dark? Sleep deprivation certainly wasn't that bad, right? He would arrive at Elagwyn's palace tired, foggy, and in pain, but at least he would be safe and alive.

His planning was interrupted by two giggles in the trees to his right. Snowdrop and Sundrop, without a doubt. He stopped moving, and looked around for a large stick. There was one nearby: five feet long, thin, and fresh. Perfect. He held it in front of him, slowly creeping forward as he tapped the ground.

"Does he know?" he heard Sundrop ask in the trees to his right.

"No, I don't think he does," Snowdrop replied.

"I can hear you," Alban said. Maybe that would scare them off.

"Why are you here, anyway?" Snowdrop said.

"I'm travelling through here to deliver a package to Queen Elagwyn on the other side of this forest. It has to be there in under two days. Please stop bothering me."

They both laughed loudly, then quieted down. What was so funny? He didn't ask, and just kept tapping the ground ahead. No illusions. Maybe if he found the trap and called the fairies out on it, they would leave him alone. He liked the idea of being left alone.

He soon saw something new ahead: a patch of large, white flowers. Their tall stems terminated in a white bulb, like that of a tulip, but thicker.

Alban slowly reached forward with the stick, and gave the nearest flower a gentle poke. It wobbled when touched, so it wasn't an illusion. He stepped forward through the flowers. Unlike the other flowers, these didn't let off any scent. Or maybe it was just the honey masking his sense of smell? He continued forward, poking flowers and the ground as he went to make sure none were dangerous. He ducked around some more foliage, and the entrance was hidden from view.

Then, he heard a finger snap above him. Alban looked up; the fairies were sitting on a branch, waving down at him. The flowers around Alban hissed, and his attention was drawn back to the ground. Alban went into a panic, and ran forward as translucent, pink gas began to squirt out of the flowers. But there were more flowers ahead, and all of them were letting out the sickeningly sweet gas.

Pink clouds of gas swirled around Alban, and he began to feel drowsy. Sundrop and Snowdrop laughed at him from somewhere above. How many flowers were there? And they were all letting out that sweet, sleepy air...

He held his breath before he breathed in too much of it. Maybe there was enough time to turn around and leave from where he came. He turned around and ran, but when he found the place where he thought the edge of the patch was, there were just more flowers just to the side of the path he had walked on. They stretched as far as he could see, and there was a faint hint of white illusion fog among them. These flowers were real, and had been invisibly hanging outside of his stick's reach. How long had he been walking alongside invisible flowers?

He began to wander aimlessly, looking for a way out, but his lungs began to burn as he held his breath. Soon, he couldn't help but gasp for air. The sweet gas surged through his body. The fairies laughed in the trees above. Alban started to stagger. He desperately tried to ward off slumber, yet his body grew more limp by the second...

It was hard for him to think, and his body grew numb. He trudged forward in his sleepy haze, trying desperately to find the edge, but there was none in sight. His senses dulled, and he stumbled to the ground, gently breathing in the sweet, sweet air as the fairies laughed above him...

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Alban woke up on something soft, and orange light filtered through his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes; he was naked in a white bed, with a thick, soft blanket on top of him. This was a small bedroom of some kind, with walls made of white marble, and furniture made of pale wood. But, the dull colors of the room were soaked in light from the setting—or rising, he had no clue which—sun behind the large, glass window in front of him. The sun was setting over low hills that reminded him of some he had seen in Rosenia, his destination, and it cast everything in the room in a wonderful orange glow.

Had he made it? Did the elves pull him out of there? He was happy to be out, but his body was still limp and tired. He could move, but his arms and legs were clumsy, slow, and relaxed, like moving in a dream. But his mind was sharper and more awake. He heard someone upstairs talking, but he couldn't make out any other details.

An ornate wooden door to his right clicked. He was thankful for the blanket on top of him. The door opened, and a tall, beautiful elf woman came inside his room. She was clad in all white: white stockings, white boots, a white skirt, a white dress, white gloves... and a little silver crown on top of her blonde hair. The light of the setting sun glistened off her clothes, giving her a golden radiance. It was what he always imagined elven royalty to look like.

Alban tried to sit up. "Just lay still," the woman said. Her voice was soothing, yet somehow powerful. "The flower poison is still in your body. You'll be fine, but you shouldn't try to move for now."

"Who are you?" Alban asked. His speech was fine; the flowers hadn't affected that. He was still in awe at her elegant beauty.

"Queen Elagwyn," she said, and Alban almost recoiled in surprise.

"Elagwyn?" he said. "I had something to deliver to—"

"—Don't worry about that," she said. "I already have it, and as thanks, I'm here to help you in return. Just relax and lay still. I know a special healing technique, and it'll draw the poison out of your body."