Trapped

sighed. Maybe you’re right .
    › You know I’m right. Dogs are much smarter about this. Bitch comes into heat, the Marvin Gaye song plays, puppies in nine weeks. Leaves more time for playing and napping when you’re not worrying about all the things humans worry about after sex. I swear you spend more time worrying about it than doing it. ‹
    A nymph approached but kept a safe distance, then informed me that Goibhniu was on his way. I thanked her and she left.
    Brewers are craftsmen to be envied, and Goibhniu is one of the finest. His daily work is easily tested and tasted, and unlike, say, one of those people who greet you in a soulless big box store, he can point to the produce of his labor and say, » There. I made that. « These days he has a taproom next to his smithy (for he is also an extremely accomplished blacksmith), and he is often found behind the bar, pulling pints for people and grinning as he serves up his latest creation. I have always liked him. Then again, it’s difficult to dislike a man who takes pleasure in giving away free beer.
    » Siodhachan! « he bellowed good-naturedly, striding toward me across the turf. He was dressed in a simple brown tunic with white knotwork and a cream-colored belt. He carried a big dark bottle in each hand. His arms were thrown wide, giving the impression that he wished to hug me with beer—a poster boy for the idea that Beer Is Love. » Good to see you outside the bloody Fae Court! You simply must try a draught of my latest. « He sat down cross-legged at the edge of my pool and popped off the top of one bottle with his thumb and a subtle unbinding. He handed it to me and then opened the other. » I call it my Bagpipe Porter. A steady note of sonorous malt with top notes of clove and vanilla dancing a jig along the sides o’ your tongue. «
    » Good health and harmony, « I said, raising my bottle to him. He clinked the neck and echoed me, then we enjoyed a few delicious swallows. » Magnificent, « I told him.
    » Yes, isn’t it? « Goibhniu smirked at his own narcissism. » If only there were a bard to catalog all the fine beers I’ve made. Alas! « He stopped mocking himself and turned serious. » But I’ve been summoned with a note of urgency. What is the matter? «
    » Someone in Tír na nÓg is after us. Granuaile’s binding was interrupted by a group of Fae assassins—yewmen and some lesser Fae. «
    » No! Is she all right? «
    » Healing. A pool or two that way. « I hooked a thumb to my left. Goibhniu frowned, his eyes flicking down to my shoulder.
    » I see the remains of a wound there, if I’m not mistaken, « he said.
    There was little visible beyond a pink puckering now, but among Druids that was telltale enough. » Aye. Arrow from ambush. «
    » Whoever did it will ne’er get another drink from me, « he said.
    » That is just and thoughtful of you, « I said. » But I wondered if perhaps you and your brother might be up for a bit of a challenge. «
    » Which brother? «
    » Luchta. «
    » A challenge, ye say? « Goibhniu’s eyes glinted. » Haven’t had one o’ those in some time. «
    » We haven’t had a new Druid in some time either, « I said. » I was thinking perhaps the occasion should be marked by a new Fae weapon. «
    The corners of Goibhniu’s mouth drooped. » Not another sword? «
    » No, your brother Luchta will do the bulk of it. Granuaile prefers the staff. Not the wizard’s sort, but the fighting sort. A quarterstaff. Can you craft it in such a way that one end is inlaid with iron to strike against the Fae and the other inlaid with silver to dissuade werewolves and their ilk? «
    The smith’s expression lit up. » Ah! That would be something new! It must be both light and strong, of course, specially bound to resist shattering and splintering. Working the metal into either end must serve both functionally and aesthetically to deserve the Fae name. «
    » I daresay it would be a challenge for both of you. There are no templates for such craft. «
    » I think you are right, Siodhachan! «
    » Add such enchantments as you think are fit and meet, and it will be a legendary weapon the likes of which the world has never seen. «
    » Indeed! It has been too long since the Tuatha Dé Danann have crafted something worthy of legend. « He shot me a wry grin. » Aside from my ales, of course. «
    » Of course. «
    Goibhniu pounded the rest of his porter at an alarming rate and then wiped a wee bit of foam off his upper lip.