Die Feëverhale Reeks Versameling: Die Eerste Nege Boeke: Feëverhale

By Ronel Janse van Vuuren

Skaduwees. Feë. Towerkrag wat los is. Avontuur.

 

Die Sluier tussen die ryke van die lewende en die dode word aangeval.

 

Hoekom?

 

Nagmerries, wesens van duisternis, mitiese monsters: Hulle moet kant kies voordat dit vir hulle gekies word.

 

Deur wie?

 

Valkyries en Furies baklei oor die siele van die dode en gee nie om oor eienaardige omstandighede van massasterftes nie. Wimpel-feetjies teister mense meer as gewoonlik – tot hul verbetering of dood.

 

Mense met toorkrag gebruik hul gawes om teen die feë te veg... Terwyl diegene sonder toorkuns net hul kennis van volkskunde het om hulle te beskerm.

 

Is dit genoeg?

 

Die mure tussen Ryke word ál dunner en niemand let op nie. Of as hulle dit agterkom, gee hulle nie om nie of maak asof dit nie gebeur nie.

 

Woedende vuur. Vriesende koue. Verdwynings.

 

Kan Mens en Feë hierdie aanslag oorleef?

 

En wie sit agter dit alles?

 

Gebruik die skuifbalk boontoe om nou te koop en jouself in gevaar en toorkrag te verwikkel terwyl jy uitvind wie hierdie coup uitvoer.

 

*Hierdie is die eerste nege boeke in die Feëverhale reeks.

• Language: Afrikaans
• Publisher: Ronel Janse van Vuuren
• Release date: Jan 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215196038

Book preview

Die Feëverhale Reeks #1: Die Feëryk

Flapteks:

Skadu’s.

Towerkuns.

Feë.

Leer hul leefwyses – en die oorspronklike volkskunde agter die Feëryk – in ses toweragtige verhale.

Gebruik die skuifbalk boontoe om nou te koop!

*Hierdie is die eerste boek in die Feëverhale reeks.

Die Blou Fees

Sia spring van die dak af en hardloop by die stegie af. Sy het nie nodig dat enigiemand sien – of weet – waarheen sy gaan nie.

Grootendeels het die studente waarmee sy rondhang geen benul wat die ooreenkomste is wat hulle sluit nie. En selfs as hulle dit sou uitwerk gee niemand om nie. Om roekelose pret te hê voordat hulle die regte wêreld betree is wat meeste van hulle soek. As sy haar Hof in die proses help...

Sy spring oor die heining en gaan die woud binne. Niemand gaan daar nie, nie eens die dwaasste sterfling nie. Na die dodetal gedurende die laaste fees...

Sia sluk en beweeg geruisloos deur die bome. Bosnimfe gluur vir haar vanwaar hulle onder ‘n olmboom vergader; wimpel-feetjies sis vir haar soos sy onder hul doringboom duik; selfs die dwaalligte vlieg weg wanneer sy nader kom.

Sy ignoreer hulle almal. Sy het ‘n belangrike taak. Eindelik maak sy dit tot by die opening in die middel van die woud. Sy tel ‘n blaar op, prik haar vinger en drup bloed op dit.

My bloed, roep dié wat ek soek.

Binne oomblikke is die opening gevul deur Feë van elke kleur, ras en grootte.

Jy is laat.

Sy gluur vir die man wat heel moontlik die moderne uitbeelding van vampiere as aantreklike gediertes wat getem moet word geïnspireer het.

Ek het my deel gedoen. Sy gluur vir hom. ‘Die Fees kan voortgaan soos beplan.’

Hy lig ‘n wenkbrou.

Jy het...

Sy hou ‘n hand op. Laat hulle net weet, okay? Ek moet terug voordat ek gemis word.

Net na sonsopkoms op ‘n Saterdagoggend staan Sia omring deur dronk studente. Hulle is dié wat altyd laat by partytjies bly. Hulle is die sterflinge wat roekeloos is en té dwaas om te weet wanneer om te stop.

Sy kyk hoe ‘n see van blou op hulle afdaal vir die fees. Feë van orals kom: blou water Feë en blou veld Feë; selfs die blou muse Feë daag op.

Sonder weifeling kyk sy hoe die sterflinge weggelei word om hulself tot uitputting te dans tydens die fees – en dan die hoofmaal te word. Sy het haar deel gedoen om haar Hof gevoed en veilig te hou vir nog ‘n jaar. Sy gryp ‘n vuil-vos-kabouter en gaan dans saam.

Vila/Doodsnimf

die vorige storie – die Blou Fees – het ‘n Doodsnimf (vila) as ‘n hoofkarakter (Sia).

Alle volkskunde bly in Engels.

According to verified folklore sources.

In Thomas Keightley’s Fairy Mythology (1828), this is how the Vila is described:

VILAS

CHERRY! dearest Cherry!

Higher lift thy branches,

Under which the Vilas

Dance their magic roundels.

Them before Radisha

Dew from flowers, lashes,

Leadeth on two Vilas,

To the third he sayeth—

"Be thou mine, O Vila!

Thou shalt, with my mother,

In the cool shade seat thee;

Soft silk deftly spinning

From the golden distaff." [a]

And in The Forest in Folklore and Mythology by Alexander Porteous (1928):

"A female being peculiar to Serbian mythology is the Vila, who partakes of the characteristics of both the Fairy and the Elf. These Vilas, represented as Mountain Nymphs, live in the forests and hills, and love singing and dancing. They are young and beautiful, with long flowing hair, and are usually clad in white. They often mount up into the air, from whence they discharge fatal arrows at men, but injure none except those who intrude on their revels. There is a Serbian saying – ustrièlila ga vila – meaning, the Vila has shot him with her dart. They are often seen sitting on Ash trees singing, and they converse with the stags of the forest. A Serbian song narrates how:

‘A young deer tracked his way through the lone forest

One lonely day – another came in sadness –

And the third dawn’d, and brought him sighs and sorrow;

Then he address’d him to the forest Vila:

Young deer, she said, "thou wild one of the forest!

Now tell me what great sorrow has oppress’d thee;

Why wanderest thou thus in the forest lonely;

Lonely one day – another day in sadness –

And the third day with sighs and anguish groaning?"

And thus the young deer to the Vila answered:

"O thou sweet sister! Vila of the forest!

Me has indeed a heavy grief befallen:

For once had a fawn, mine own beloved,

And one sad day she sought the running water;

She entered it but came not back to bless me."’

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In my own writing.

The Origin of the Fae: Vila

Vilas are captivatingly beautiful Fae who live in both the Otherworld and the world of the living.

They have beautiful singing voices and are mesmerising to watch when they dance – which they love to do.

They are excellent archers and usually display this skill when mortals interrupt their revels. They have their revels beneath cherry trees.

Vilas have long flowing hair and typically wear white, though they are partial to shades of blue. They are the Keepers of the Blue Festival where all Fae who are blue can enjoy a revel designed to pay their Tithes and build their glamour.

They do not particularly like humans, though they know that it is necessary to enthral them to take part in their revels as sacrifice. They’ll do what they must to lure humans to their special revels. A thick ring of grass, a type of faery ring, remains after such a revel and those who are wise know not to pass, for their life-force will immediately be drained and they will become part of the forest.

They are the peacekeepers of the forest. Any animal or Fae with a problem can go their sacred Ash trees and have the Vila waiting there decide judgement. Though they love all animals, they are partial to dogs.

They delight in creating storms just for the fun of it. Though they’ll heal the injured and sometimes use their prophetic powers to avert tragedy.

Vilas are shape-shifters; a trait they share with most Fae.

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You can read more about Vilas on my blog: https://www.ronelthemythmaker.com/enticing-vilas-nymphs-of-the-otherworld-and-forest-atozchallenge-folklore/

Dans van die Dooies

Krale val orals. Hulle was eens elke kleur denkbaar, maar hulle is nou gevlek met bloed.

Mense hou aan sing en waai terwyl die parade verby gaan, salig onbewus van wat werklik aan die gang is. Die alkohol wat hulle so gulsig afsluk is nie van hulle wêreld nie... en keer hulle om te sien hoe die lewe getrek word uit elkeen wat aan die krale raak.

Kay hou aan dans. Sy weet as sy eers ophou, sy deel sal word van die tallose dooies.

Dans was nog altyd haar passie, haar ontsnap van haar wêreld. Nou is dit haar tronk. Sy hou haar vrees ingehok; haar bewegings word wild soos die musiek wat die Feë speel haar ‘n tweede asem gee en sy vergeet van alles behalwe dans.

Sy’t nog altyd gewens sy kan vir die koninklikes dans. Sy’s nooit gedink dat as sy vir die Donker Koning dans, dit die einde van haar sal wees nie.

Ankou en die Dood

In die vorige storie – Dans van die Dooies – is die dood die hooftema.

Alle volkskunde bly in Engels.

In Faerie, Death has many meanings, but there is one who is always present: Ankou (or his servants), whether others know of it or not. The MC in the previous story had no idea that Ankou was present as well.

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According to verified folklore sources.

Legends and Romances of Brittany by Lewis Spence [1917]

CHAPTER IV: SPRITES AND DEMONS OF BRITTANY

The Ankou

Perhaps there is no spirit of evil which is so much dreaded by the Breton peasantry as the Ankou, who travels the duchy in a cart, picking up souls. In the dead of night a creaking axle-tree can be heard passing down the silent lanes. It halts at a door; the summons has been given, a soul quits the doomed house, and the wagon of the Ankou passes on. The Ankou herself—for the dread death-spirit of Brittany is probably female—is usually represented as a skeleton. M. Anatole le Braz has elaborated a study of the whole question in his book on the legend of death in Brittany, and it is probable that the Ankou is a survival of the death-goddess of the prehistoric dolmen-builders of Brittany. MacCulloch considers the Ankou to be a reminiscence of the Celtic god of death, who watches over all things beyond the grave and carries off the dead to his kingdom, but greatly influenced by medieval ideas of 'Death the skeleton.' In some Breton churches a little model or statuette of the Ankou is to be seen, and this is nothing more nor less than a cleverly fashioned skeleton. The peasant origin of the belief can be found in the substitution of a cart or wagon for the more ambitious coach and four of other lands.

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The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries, by W.Y. Evans-Wentz [1911]

THE BRETON LEGEND OF THE DEAD

The Dead and Fairies Compared.—Without setting down here in detail numerous other death-legends which we have collected, we may now note how much the same are the powers and nature of the dead and spirits in Brittany, and the power and nature of the fairy races in Celtic Britain and Ireland. Thus the Breton dead strike down the living just as fairies are said to do; the Ankou who is a king of the dead, and his subjects, like a fairy king and fairies, have their own particular paths or roads over which they travel in great sacred processions; and exactly as fairies, the hosts of the dead are in possession of the earth on November Eve, and the living are expected to prepare a feast and entertainment for them of curded-milk, hot pancakes, and cider, served on the family table covered with a fresh white table-cloth, and to supply music. The Breton dead come to enjoy this hospitality of their friends; and as they take their places at the table the stools are heard to move, and sometimes the plates; and the musicians who help to entertain them think that at times they feel the cold breath of the invisible visitors.

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The Religion of the Ancient Celts by J. A. MacCulloch [1911]

THE STATE OF THE DEAD

Traces of the idea of an underworld of the dead exist in Breton folk-belief. It is not impossible that the Breton conception of Ankou, death personified, is a reminiscence of the Celtic Dispater. He watches over all things beyond the grave, and carries off the dead to his kingdom. But if so he has been altered for the worse by mediæval ideas of Death the skeleton 3 He is a grisly god of death, whereas the Celtic Dis was a beneficent god of the dead who enjoyed a happy immortality. They were not cold phantasms, but alive and endowed with corporeal form and able to enjoy the things of a better existence, and clad in the beautiful raiment and gaudy ornaments which were loved so much on earth.

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In my own writing.

The Origin of the Fae: Ankou

Ankou can appear as a skeletal being with a scythe and wearing a cloak – just as folklore claims. But he usually dresses smartly, especially when visiting the Faery Queen. He stays bone white, though. He likes the fact that all fae fear him, or are at least uncomfortable with his presence – even those who work for him.

He sometimes collects the souls of the dead in his black cart/carriage. Depending on his mood and the circumstances, he can be quite gentle with the recently dead and take them to his realm himself instead of leaving them to the tender mercies of the dullahans and others in his service.

It is his duty to maintain order between the Otherworld and the land of the living (Faerie and Mortal Realm alike). He has various servants (dullahans, banshees, sirens, etc.) with specific duties to maintain this order. His most trusted lieutenants are the Keeper of the Veil and Dagda, ruler of the Underworld.

During Samhain, when the Veil between Worlds are at its thinnest, he leads a procession of dead fae and some of his servants through the world of the living. When they come across living beings, they are to be appeased with baked goods or dessert. Or they will play cruel tricks on the individual. That is why it is best to stay indoors, hidden in the dark, during Samhain lest you attract the attention of Ankou and his subjects.

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You can read more about Ankou on my blog: https://www.ronelthemythmaker.com/ankou-king-of-the-dead-atozchallenge-folklore/

Die Goeie, die Slegte en die Vieslike

Hulle was vir ewig uitlokkend en ontstellend. Richelle kyk weg van die ander Sirenes wat glinsterende uitrustings aantrek, hul hare alreeds in perfekte kapsels. Sy bewe soos die dag van haar eie inwyding.

Sy haal haar skouers op en trek die rits van haar skouerlose rok op. Dit was tyd om die ingewydes presies te wys wat dit beteken om ‘n Sirene te wees.

Richelle loop deur die sluier wat haar wêreld van die mensewêreld skei.

Die strand was vol halfnaakte mense. ‘n Jong man wat net 'n speedo dra, peil af op haar oor die sand. Alle oë volg hom. Dit is duidelik dat hy weet watter effek hy op ander het.

Sy skud haar kop oor sy selfvoldaanheid. Hy was op meer as een manier volmaak.

Ek het jou nie vantevore hier gesien nie. Terloops, ‘n wonderlike rok.

Wil jy hier wegkom?

Loop voor.

Hulle stap buite sig van die mense voordat sy die water binnegaan. Hy skop teë waar water die strand raak. Richelle begin saggies sing en sy sintuie word vasgevang. Hy volg haar in die water in.

Toe hulle diep genoeg is dat sy voete nie aan die onderkant kon raak nie, glimlag sy. Haar voorkoms verander. Sy weet dat haar hare pers word, donker aan die wortels en lig aan die punte. Haar ligte glinsterende rok is vervang deur swart sy en kant. Haar grimering word net so donker soos haar siel.

Tog toon die mens geen vrees nie. Sy sing nog. Hy is nog steeds betower.

Sy trek hom vinnig onder die water en verdrink hom. Sy siel glip uit sy liggaam en staar haar in verwarring aan.

Richelle laat val sy liggaam en sing tot sy siel. Hy volg haar deur die sluier waar sy hom met ‘n Grim in die Anderwêreld los.

Sy kry ‘n vlugtige blik van haar weerkaatsing op die mure van water en gryns. Om ‘n Sirene te wees, was 'n belofte van volmaaktheid. Maar hier was sy niks meer as vere en rooi vel wat oral uitspoel nie. Sy moet voed.

Sy haat die vloek op haar soort om halfvoël, halfvrou te wees, tensy hulle genoeg toorkrag gebruik om hul ware natuur te verberg.

Sy keer terug na die lyk aan die onderkant van die oseaan en voed totdat net die bene oor is. Sy neem hulle na haar ryk waar sy hulle by die wortels van die boom plaas wat die lewe aan haar soort gee.

Terug by die jong Sirenes wat vir die eerste keer na die mensewêreld gaan en hul eerste mens gaan verdrink, was sy weer die pragtige wese van vroeër.

Sy sien hoe die jong Sirenes die ritueel uitvoer, sommige weifel oor die transformasie in ‘n donker wese voordat hulle hul slagoffers verdrink.

Ander Sirenes sis vir hulle.

Dit was ‘n gevaarlike, selfs vyandige, inisiasie. Om ‘n Sirene te wees, was nie net liedjies sing en hare kam nie.

Sy kyk hoe Meg, die Sirene wat haar ware natuur al byna ‘n eeu verloën het, die mensewêreld binnekom in haar ware vorm. Sy sien die huiwering op die gesig van die jong Sirene en weet dat Meg dit nie kan doen nie. Nie alle Sirenes is gebore om te verlei en dood te maak nie, maak nie saak hoe magtig hulle mag wees nie.

Onsigbaar selfs vir haar eie soort, sweef Richelle na die mensewêreld en na Meg se sy.

Daar is ‘n manier om jou lot te ontsnap, fluister sy vir die vreesbevange meisie.

Hoe? fluister Meg.

Moenie betower nie, verlig.

Richelle keer terug na haar plek aan die ander kant van die sluier om te kyk. Niemand het haar afwesigheid opgemerk nie.

Op die strand keer Meg ‘n vriendelike jong man voor. Hy het dieselfde atletiese bou as al die ander slagoffers van Sirenes, maar daar was iets aan hom wat vir Richelle sê dat hy nooit selfvoldaan voel oor sy voorkoms nie. Net soos Meg nie meedoënloos kon wees nie.

Meg begin sing en lei die glimlaggende jong man in die branders in. Die Sirenes skreeu, wetende dat sy haar inisiasie verbrou.

Jy is ‘n pragtige nimf, sê die jong man.

Meg gluur vir hom. Ek is nie ‘n nimf nie. Nimfe is lawwe wesens wat behep is met hul voorkoms en om sterflinge te verlei. Nee. Ek is ‘n Sirene.

‘Jy het sopas beskryf wat Sirene is."

Dwase sterfling.

Verlig my dan.

Meg se oë glinster en sy sing vir hom oor die verlede en die toekoms. Sy sing oor alles wat sy weet. Sy sing totdat sy in die water oplos, om nooit weer gesien te word nie... hoewel haar lied vir ewig op die golwe gedra sal word.

Richelle knik vir wat sy gesien het voordat dit gebeur het en stap weg. Die inisiasie was verby. ‘n Sirene is verlos van haar lot en kon nou swem en dans in koel water waarvan die res net kon droom.

Sirenes

In die vorige storie – Die Goeie, die Slegte en die Vieslike – is ‘n Sirene die hoofkarakter (Richelle).

Alle volkskunde bly in Engels.

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According to verified folklore sources.

Fictitious and Symbolic Creatures in Art by John Vinycomb [1909]

The Sirens of Classical Mythology

The Sirens (Greek, entanglers) enticed seamen by the sweetness of their song to such a degree that the listeners forgot everything and died of hunger. Their names were, Parthenope, Ligea, and Leucosia.

Parthenope, the ancient name of Neapolis (Naples) was derived from one of the sirens, whose tomb was shown in Strabo's time. Poetic legend states that she threw herself into the sea out of love for Ulysses, and was cast up on the Bay of Naples.

The celebrated Parthenon at Athens, the beautiful temple of Pallas Athenæ, so richly adorned with sculptures, likewise derives its name from this source.

Dante interviews the siren in Purgatorio, xix. 7–33.

Flaxman, in his designs illustrating the Odyssey, represents the sirens as beautiful young women seated on the strand and singing.

The Sirens are best known from the story that Odysseus succeeded in passing them with his companions without being seduced by their song. He had the prudence to stop the ears of his companions with wax and to have himself bound to the mast. Only two are mentioned in Homer, but three or four are mentioned in later times and introduced into various legends. Demeter (Ceres) is said to have changed their bodies into those of birds, because they refused to go to the help of their companion, Persephone, when she was carried off by Pluto. They are represented in Greek art like the harpies, as young women with the wings and feet of birds. Sometimes they appear altogether like birds, only with human faces; at other times with the bodies of women, in which case they generally hold instruments of music in their hands. As their songs are death to those subdued by them they are often depicted on tombs as spirits of death.

By the fables of the Sirens is represented the ensnaring nature of vain and deceitful pleasures, which sing and soothe to sleep, and never fail to destroy those who succumb to their beguiling influence.

Spenser, in the Faerie Queen, describes a place where many mermaids haunt, making false melodies, by which the knight Guyon makes a somewhat perilous passage. There were five sisters that had been fair ladies, till too confident in their skill in music they had ventured to contend with the Muses, when they were transformed in their lower extremities to fish:

"But the upper half their hue retained still,

And their sweet skill in wonted melody;

Which ever after they abused to ill

To allure weak travellers, whom gotten they did kill."

Book ii. cant. cxii.

Shakespeare charmingly pictures Oberon in the moonlight, fascinated by the graceful form and the melodious strains of the mermaid half reclining on the back of the dolphin:

"  Oberon: . . . Thou rememberest

Since once I sat upon a promontory,

And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back

Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath

That the rude sea grew civil at her song

And certain stars shot madly from their spheres

To hear the sea-maid's music."

Commentators of Shakespeare find in this passage (and subsequent parts) certain references to Mary Queen of Scots, which they consider beyond dispute. She was frequently referred to in the poetry of the time under this title. She was married to the Dauphin (or Dolphin) of France. The rude sea means the Scotch rebels, and the shooting stars referred to were the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, who, with others of lesser note, forgot their allegiance to Elizabeth out of love to Mary.

Few eyes, says Sir Thomas Browne, have escaped the picture of a mermaid with a woman's head above and a fish's extremity below. In those old days when reading and writing were rare accomplishments, pictured signboards served to give a local habitation and a name to hostelries and other places of business and resort. Among the most celebrated of the old London taverns bearing this sign, that in Bread Street stands foremost.

We find this Mermayde mentioned as early as 1464. In 1603 Sir Walter Raleigh established a literary club in this house, and here Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, and the choice intellectual spirits of the time used to meet, and there took place those wit combats which Beaumont has commemorated and Fuller described. It is frequently alluded to by Beaumont and Fletcher in their comedies, but best known is