Goblin King's child

Some stories are....and some aren't. This one is.

They say, the goblins took her. Down, down, down, over and out, they led her away from the mortal world.

Through hawthorn paths, between mists and stones, over the unpainted hills and down below they went, luring her with carefree melodies full of promises and treasures.

Gold they promised, and jewels, and gifts that could rival the most wonderful of presents, and beauty eternal - and all that for the babe she was carrying in her arms.

The king needs it, they told her, the child. The child born between midnight and the first hour of the new day, the babe of Samhain, the child that…you'll see in time.

Safety they promised her, and everything she could wish for the child. The king they told her, was lonely and needed a wife. The king, they said, yearned for an hair.

What they didn't tell her, was that no mortal woman could stay in the Underground, where the sun never goes, not even for a minute, where it's always shadows and doubts, night and mist, and never glee or hope.

What they never told her, was that the Underground was safe for children, but never so for the adults. That she'd have to cross the seas of hate and scorn to get her her child back, and perish along the way.

She was steadfast however. She was brave. She never let her guard down.

She said, she didn't mind being cared for by a king.

What she never said, was that she had an iron nail in her pocket. What she never said, was that she herself was of the Faerie blood.

Goblins were cunning - may be, but they were not the brightest. They took her deep down to the Underground, expecting her to turn back, be frightened or at least show some doubt, but she never did.

And her child was asleep in her arms.

Deep, deep and deeper, she went, until the last memory of her vanished from the earth.

The goblins took her- they say.

Nay.

She went home.