A Fey Proposal

Would you accept a chocolate cake from a Fae?

Accepting almost anything from a being as beautiful as summer, but as fickle and powerful as a hurricane, sounds like a risk. But I wanted to know a secret, a secret that only the Keeper of the Willows could give me. The best adventures come with the strangest dangers, and in this instance my danger was a sit-down dinner with a Fae.

The brambles and vines in the Willow Woods were thick and choking, but my short-sword worked to cut them apart. My clothes still suffered quite a few tears, though, and I could feel the thorns occasionally swiping at my face. Twigs and leaves littered my hair, and by the time I came through the other side, I hardly looked presentable for a fancy dinner.

Yet when I saw the that hut, covered in those trademark willow leaves, I knew I had to continue forward regardless. That secret would be mine. My aching legs marched forward on their own, and soon enough I was at the door.

“Melisandre! Come inside!”

The Keeper of the Willows had seen me from inside his hut’s window, and so I did not even need to knock. In fact, the door opened on its own.

He looked about as whimsical as an old storybook fairy. His long, silken green hair cascaded down his back, and his elegant melon-colored robes were decorated with embroidery of various summer flowers. What made him look only slightly less serious, but none the less regal, was the apron smudged with cocoa powder and flour, and the bunny slippers I peeked as he walked.

"What’s the matter? You’ve never seen a Fae bake before?”

“I’ve never seen a Fae, never mind one who bakes.”

“Well you’re in luck! Come, come, everything is warm, you’ll enjoy it.”

I took his word-at least for now. The table with all of the food was not far from me, so I walked over and took my seat.

He really had cooked a feast. A large duck cooked in some sort of savory sauce, a huge bowl of freshly-baked rolls with a side of freshly-churned butter, a colorful salad with some sort of pomegranate dressing, baked fish, and then the prime specimen itself. A beautiful, layered, chocolate cake.

“Do you cook like this for every guest?” I asked, a little unnerved by how perfect all the food looked.

The Fae smirked. “I make something different every time. But almost every traveler I’ve met loves chocolate cake. There’s something comforting about it for mortalsand immortals. Besides, hard truths and negotiations always need chocolate, in my eyes.” He turned and gave me a knowing look, and I felt like brambles were still sticking into my legs from under the table.

I crossed my legs and gazed at the table, hungry and scared all at once.

After five minutes he sat down, and he poured me a glass of cold strawberry lemonade. Even the lemonade glistened like the sun, and when I tasted it, the tartness was perfect. I nodded and tried to smile back.

“Oh don’t lose your nerve yet! Help yourself, and then ask me your question.”

I got some of the duck, a bread roll, and a couple of spoonfuls of salad. I felt I would not finish them, but I still felt compelled to eat as much as possible. All of the food was cooked or mixed to perfection. “Do Fae use cookbooks or do they just make the food off the tops of their heads?”

He laughed as he finished taking a bite of salad. “Oh I do hope that’s not the grand question. But a good chef never tells his secrets.” He winked, a disarming gesture. I almost blushed. His face was quite handsome and ageless, like fine silver porcelain.

As I finished my salad and downed a buttered roll, I took a deep breath and asked my question. “…Keeper of the Willows, you know everything about these woods and about the changing seasons…so my question is…How do you live knowing that your death is coming soon?”

He lifted his fork with a stab of duck meat, only to stop as I asked my question. His jovial smile seemed to lose its edges, and he gave me a long look. “You are asking me…an immortal Fae…about your mortality?” he repeated.

I nodded. “…I…have discovered that I am gravely ill. My disease is in my blood, that’s what the shaman said. She tried to heal me, but I can feel it…It’s still there.”

The Keeper blinked, and now with a slow motion, he put his fork on the napkin. “…And you have not gone to request healing anywhere else? No grand quest to find the fountain of youth?”

I shook my head. “…My adventures are written, my prizes are home, my village loves me. But I…I am scared, admittedly.” I gulped. “…Life…doesn’t feel like it should end. It feels like every day should unfold like endless parchment scrolls. But…there’s a stopping point that I don’t see.”

He nodded, and he immediately walked to the table with the cake. He brought it back over, and without even a word he cut me a huge slice.

“Oh! I-I’m not finished with my first…plate yet?…”

“…Humans, mortals, they are so small, I find. They want the small answers from the larger beings…but you, you want a large answer. And that requires a large piece of cake,” he answered, giving now a kinder smile.

Normally the Keeper of the Willows had a reputation for tricks and jokes on those who came to ask him questions. Some people were pranked, and one person who had crossed him supposedly drank poison. But his eyes, I could tell, were sincere. I had to stop my own eyes from tearing as I accepted the cake.

The inside of the cake was mint-chocolate. Fresh, airy, and smooth, almost too light to be a cake. And no poison. “…This is…the best cake I’ve ever had,” I choked out, as I finished a slice.

“Mhm. Mint is good for the stomach, good for nerves. And you would not ask me for healing?”

“…I do not know what I want…” I admitted. I wanted to cry, but I tried to keep my composure. “I feel…I should allow the end of come…but is this really the end of my story?…How does this adventure end with just the closing of my eyes in my own bed? Aren’t we supposed to die fighting dragons and monsters?”

“Ah but you are fighting something far more terrifying than any dragon or behemoth, are you not?” The Fae cut himself a much smaller slice.

“…And…you’re not…going to take advantage of my weakness?…Like…the villagers said?”

He scoffed. “Goodness, no. I am a Fae, not a fiend. The same humans who call me evil think themselves mighty for ignoring their own poor, starving, lonely, dying neighbors. But here I am, serving you dinner and a delicious cake.” When he saw I was still on the verge of tears, he paused.

I forced myself to keep eating, even though my stomach was knitting itself into knots. All of the food was so delicious, and even though I knew he would not punish me now for being too scared to eat, I still wanted to finish my plate. I continued to eat more duck and fish, following with more cake.

“Please! Slow down, Melisandre! Your food won’t grow legs!” he implored, half-chuckling. He poured me more lemonade, and he watched me for another moment. He then gave a wise, gentle smile. “…How about this. We do not need to have that answer today. You do not need to be ready to face that question right in this moment, when you are alone and scared. Instead, you can face it in a place where you are safe. Why don’t you…come back and have more dinners with me?”

I was stunned enough to stop stuffing my face with cake. The Keeper of the Willows, a powerful guardian of the Wylds, inviting me to have dinner with him every night. I almost felt I should refuse, but he was right. In the moment I had asked my question, this place had become sacred and safe. My vulnerability was not broken, my stomach was filling with food, and I realized that I did not want to be alone.

“Loneliness is the truest death of them all, but you need not face loneliness. Nobody should.”

I nodded. “I agree…I…” I swallowed more tears, and more lemonade. “…I would love to come back here…and think, and talk…and eat more cake. If you’ll let me.”

“Of course! And we’ll share the answer together. When the time comes to decide, heal or not, live or die, we will face the changes of the season as with every adventure.”

My tears fell down my cheeks, and they mixed with the lemonade I swallowed. The salt seemed to make the drink brighter. My heavy heart lifted, and perhaps that was the healing I needed the most. That my aching heart still beat for joy, feeling the kindness of another, was a treasure enough, better than any charm or gold. His verdant eyes met my hazel ones, and I decided I would finish my cake. Hard truths required chocolate, but so did the happiness of finding true friends behind the brambles.