Author's Note:

This is a revised version of BfDU. The revision includes only grammatical and stylized corrections. The plot of BfDU has not been altered in any way.

Boy's from Dublin’s Underground

1. Strange Happenings...

Has something ever happened to you? Something…odd—like a light on in the bathroom you were sure was off, or an open doorway you’re sure wasn’t there before? Maybe, you saw something you shouldn’t—like a glimpse of something gold in a forest glen, or maybe a high-pitched laugh? A shimmering light on iridescent wings on flower petals—a double take on a handsome man walking down the street that you were sure had pointed ears? That kind of odd.

Well, if you have, maybe it’s not so far out. What would you do if what you’d seen, what happened, was actually true? What would you think? What if I told you that it was true?

You’re laughing, aren’t you?

I thought so.

Well, I didn’t exactly believe it when I heard it either, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. We’ll start with my story, and then we’ll see what you believe at the end.

My name is Finndabahir, or Finn, and this is my story.

2. A Rainy Day

It was a rainy day in May.

The great O’Henry once said that this was never a way to start a story. Well, O’Henry can go shove it up his arse. My story really does begin on a rainy day in May. In fact, it was a rainy day in May, in Ireland. Even better, it was a rainy day in May in Ireland in Dublin. And even — now, I’m just playing, but just one more—now it was a rainy day in May, in Ireland, in Dublin, in a café alongside the Liffy.

My cousin, Gwen, ran the little café. She’d converted it into a bookstore as well when her parents kicked her out because of ‘having too many books in the household’. Gwen is an excellent chef and bright enough to know how to put good talents like that to use. For example, a café, but for all of Gwen’s brightness, she had no idea how to run a business. That’s where I came in.

I did and I was currently homeless.

Now, I was running most of the business and Gwen did the baking. We split the profits after paying for food, the rent for this place, and the apartment upstairs. It worked out well enough in the end, I suppose.

Back to the rainy day in May.

“Finn!” I groaned, hitting the alarm clock next to my bedside only to realize that the annoying screech wasn’t the clock, but my cousin from downstairs. “Cac!” I cursed, pulling myself up from my windowsill bed. (Yes, I sleep on the windowsill….got a problem?) I’d pulled myself into a sitting position when Gwen came running in, covered in flour, flakes of it dusting the dark wood floor like snowflakes on pavement.

“Finn! Finn! Wake up already you lazy dolt!”

“Damnú ort!” I shouted, “WHAT?”

Gwen sighed. “I’ve been calling you for a half-hour already! I swear if a horde of fairies walked in here you wouldn’t--Oh never mind!” She paused, “Get dressed, I have a lot of baking and you need to mind the front!” With a flurry of huffs and muttering, she turned, slamming the door behind her as she trudged down the stairs. I stared at her; wasn’t I supposed to be the responsible one? I sighed, rubbing my eyes to rid ‘em of sleep before dropping the sheet and walking over to the closet, picking out a nice, black outfit for today.

Dress, brush teeth and then skip downstairs.

“Gwen!” I called, taking the spiral staircase two stairs at a time. Jumping the last three or four, I landed with a thud and stole a pastry from the glass container on the bar as I went.

“That’s for the customers you moron!” I heard her shout over the din. Looking around the place, I noticed it was indeed busier then usual. Squeezing my way through the throng, I made my way to the back of the onyx bar, took an apron, and stuffed a notebook inside the pocket and take a few pens to stuff in my hair. Off to work. Usually I manned the counter, but upon seeing most of the folk sitting down waiting to be waited on, I made my rounds—but not before something unusual happened.

At first I thought that it had been a trick of the light, but as I watched the two of them come in, I knew they weren’t. They were the most handsome pair of flesh I’d ever laid my eyes on. Both were tall, creamy skin and dark eyes. Twins, I could tell and the only distinguishing feature was that one had long, deep red hair swept into a low ponytail and the other, had long black hair, gathered at the nape of his neck. But that wasn’t what was odd. What was odd was that they both had pointed ears.

Yea, you read me right.

Pointed.

Not like a little point, I’m not even talking about a look-alike point; I mean a serious-Lord of the Rings-eschew-point. I must have stared at them for too long because the little old lady at the table I was waiting on started hitting me in the shin with her cane.

“You younglings see a good fish and all you want to do is cast your bait.” She muttered angrily. Giving her the most apologetic smile I could come up with I turned and smiled.

“What can I get for you?” I asked,

“Eh….a pastry.” She said, now continually tapping her stick on my boot. On one rap that was particularly painful, I let out a little yelp, succeeding in getting everyone’s attention. “What is it dear?” She asked, looking up at me. I swear that I saw a hint of deviousness in that old bat’s eyes. Maybe it was just me; I was also seeing hot guys walk in with pointed ears.

As the batty old hag finished with her order, I made my way over to where the two men had sat. I figured they looked about my age—nineteen or twenty…maybe older. My eyes landed on the pointed ears and I shut my eyes quickly. Maybe if I willed them away, they would just go away. One, Two, Three. Nope. No such luck. The points were still there and today, I had decided, would be a bad day. I leaned down onto the table with a purposeful thud. The two swung their heads towards me; eerily black eyes making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

“Now,” I hissed. “I have no idea what’s up with you freaks—some convention or whatever—but I don’t appreciate Ringers walking in here with pointed ears!”

The redhead turned towards me with a sharp intake of breath. “You mean…you can see them?”

“Duh.” I said, like they thought I was stupid. “I’m not blind.”

Suddenly, the two heads rushed forward, knocking me effectively out of the triangle that had merged into just the two of them. Feeling effectively put out, I meandered over to the other tables. Who cared if someone saw their pointed ears? It wasn’t as if no one else could see them. By the time I actually got to look back at the table they were at, they were gone. Just like that! I blinked slowly; it was as if they hadn’t even been there! Then again, a cool part of my brain observed. Maybe you were just dreaming it up.

“Hey! Whoa!”

I blinked, jerking to a start.

“Finn?”

I looked over; Gwen was standing there, a funny look on her face. “What?” I asked.

“You okay? Staring off into no where’s land, people are going to think you’re crazy.”

I laughed with her, but somewhere, I couldn’t help but think that maybe she was right. Maybe I was crazy.

3. The Court

“I swear! She was able to see his ears!” The black-headed boy spoke in an urgent tone, not bothering to whisper in the great chamber that was quickly Fillyng up with curious nobles who had nothing better to do then to listen to the prince’s recent tirade. King Fillynlooked at his younger son with unhidden amusement. The redhead, King Fillyn’s first son, crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.

“Maybe father would be more interested if you didn’t tell him something like this everyday.”

“He has a point, Liaden.” The King said, frowning. “And you know that a human being able to see his ears is no laughing matter.”

“Hm….Yes, and, she could see them so well, she accused us of being Ringers…” The crown prince spit the last words out like a vile curse.

This time, the amusement faded to a reprimanding look as it swung to the crown prince. “Cathaoir.”

“If it’s true,” A third voice interrupted. “We must see to this human.” King Fillyn smiled and there was suddenly lots of light, twinkling fairy laughter filling the great chamber.

“Bryne! You old twinkling pixy! Where have you been?” The King paused, slinging an arm around the pixi’s shoulders and pulling him toward his sons. Bryne and Fillyn had grown up together in the court and despite their two races’ hatred toward one another; they had formed a close friendship. “Never mind that, perhaps you can talk some sense into that boy of mine!”

Offended, Liaden crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking his brother exactly. “I have sense—I may be a flirt but that doesn’t mean I don’t have any sense.”

“Is it true?” Bryne’s firm voice cut in, effectively severing any kind of childish argument that might have resulted.

“Yes. She threw us for a loop.” Replied Cathaoir. Reaching into the pocket of his pants, he quickly pulled out a Polaroid. “Stole this from their wall. This is the human.”

Bryne took the photograph eagerly, the things the humans did without magic was astounding. It was why he had dedicated his life a warrior-scholar, wanting to learn as much as he could about the world above. Above the Underground.

“She doesn’t look like a human.” He commented quietly. Bryne had a hard time imagining a human to be this beautiful. The only humans he seemed to meet were coarse, hard-edged, rude human-folk. This one was different. The King strode over to take the human-folks photograph from him. After pondering it for a moment, the King nodded then gave the photograph back to Bryne.

“Yes…this is most certainly worth checking out.” He paused a moment, deep in thought, and when he spoke again, it was to Cathaoir. “Return there with Bryne. If you can woo her, all the better, for the kingdom will have a bride!”

As they dashed out of the great hall, the photograph glided to the floor. The picture was a Polaroid, a snapshot of a girl. This one had long, beautiful auburn hair that ran out of sight of the picture. She was laughing, making the freckles on her face appear as if a painter had splattered brown paint all over her face, intelligent amber eyes wrapped artfully in heavy kohl laughed as she downed a glass of Irish whiskey, a hint of a blue tattoo shining iridescently on her skin.

4. Classics

“Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!” They chanted, I laughed as Gwen grimaced, and then downed the shot glass. The house erupted into cheers, I along with them. Two weeks had passed since that strange occurrence in the shop and only one thing had happened since—I had woken up in the middle of the night to hear light, crystalline laughter in the room and feeling little hands and feet touching my face and playing with my hair. I had dismissed it as a dream until Gwen shook me awake and told me I had flowers woven into my hair. After that, I had done some serious research. They had been fairies--and mischievous ones at that.

“Finny! Your turn!” I laughed, collecting my thoughts and allowing myself to be shoved onto the bench that surrounded the small table in the middle of the pub where someone was refilling the shot glasses. The members of our little Irish group started the chant again as I downed the first couple of shots, the warm liquid going down my throat.

Then I saw them.

I might have been able to blame it on being drunk (This wasn’t my first round with the shot glasses) but I knew I couldn’t. Not after seeing them once before and then that hair-disaster in the morning. There were three of them this time, the two from before and then an older, wiser looking one who could pass as their mature friend—I suppose. Unfortunately, Gwen caught where my gaze had landed and instantly sprang up, promptly walking over and then asked them to join us. I nearly died of embarrassment as Gwen pulled the three of them over.

“AYE! Newcomers!” It was then that John, one of my oldest friends decided to come up and sling a heavy arm around the trio. “Yer in fer a treat! Finny’s never passed out with true Irish Whiskey!”

The redhead swung his gaze over our group to lock eyes with me. A sizzle of electricity passed between us and suddenly the room was entirely too warm. His gaze was piercing—it was as if he could see right through me; all of my fears and hopes and disappointments. I met his gaze, unchallenged and defiant. His eyes changed then, golden flecks in his eyes soft and tender darkening as his gaze swept over her.

“I think I might tonight, John.” I whispered, struggling to tear my eyes away from the redheaded stranger. The two next to him, I noticed, were wearing identical smirks. John removed his arm from the redhead to thump me on the back.

“Nonsense Finny! Yer do jus’ fine.” He laughed, backing up. “WHISKEY!” He shouted, throwing his arms up as everyone repeated his words.

I took the second shot nervously but instantly felt better the moment the liquid fire burning my throat.

“Whiskey! Whiskey! Whiskey! Whiskey! Whiskey! Whiskey!” They chanted. By the time the thirteenth or fourteenth shot went down—things were getting fuzzy. I giggled hilariously, feeling completely bubbly. Two—three more and then John came to take my place for his next round. I stood trying to keep my feet underneath me only to be bumped by someone and go flying—right into the arms of the redheaded stranger.

“It’s rare a woman can keep her drink that well…” He said, his hot breath tickling my ear.

“What’s yer name?” I asked, trying to right myself by using him as a wall of sorts to lean on.

“Cathaoir.” He replied, then, just as soon as he said it, he met my eyes, then swiftly cupped my chin, and planted his lips over my own in a soft but demanding kiss. I’ve been snogged by tons of guys but never like this. It was like a steamy American-romance novel. That kiss lasted forever, time and space warping even more around my hazy drunkenness—and yet….it seemed like things were clearing up as he held me there, suspended in time. We were pulled apart suddenly as a drunken couple stumbled past, flattening us against the wall.

I don’t think either of us minded. My mind was clear, it was as if I hadn’t just had twenty or so shots moments before, and the clarity was breathtaking. A single thought escaped my mind before I claimed his lips for my own once more. He was mine. In some odd fashion, in some odd way, somewhere, deep down in my heart, I knew he was the only one I wanted. His hands came up, one supporting himself on the wall, the other burying itself in my hair. Innately, I was aware of every place our bodies touched—hips, entwined legs, his hands, his fingertips, and my hand on his chest, the other on his shoulder.

“Oi! Finny! Stop necking the new boy and get your arse over here!”

We broke away with a start; I glared at Gwen for the interruption, not bothering to shout at her as he buried his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply. After I felt I had sufficiently glared Gwen down to give us a moment, my eyes returned to my mysterious kisser.

“Who are you?” I asked, he smiled slightly, planting light kisses on my forehead then my eyelids.-

“Soul mate.” He whispered into my ear. Pulling back, he let me have some breathing space but slipped his hand back into my hair, toying with the locks of my hair.

“What?” I asked, confused. Cathaoir looked almost trouble and he sighed, taking my hands in his large ones. Guiltily, he met my eyes and then I knew. Somehow, some crazy way, I’d just snogged a fairy. For some reason though, as I looked into his eyes, I didn’t mind. It was weird to think that that fact didn’t bother be, but it was simply something internal—something that screamed: “You’re safe with him.” Besides, I was Irish. Weren’t we supposed to believe in the Good People?

“You’re a fairy…aren’t you?” I asked. His head came up so suddenly I thought he’d snapped his neck.

“You-You knew?”

I smiled gently, resting my fingertips on his lips. “Know.” I sighed. “I’m alright with that. After those damnable fairies…I can’t imagine what’s worse…”

“Damnable fairies?” He asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“A bunch of your folk came in and decided to braid my hair with flowers.” Upon seeing the unabashed amusement in his eyes, I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “It took me hours to get them out.” I said pointedly as he doubled over in laughter.

“I’m sorry…”

I smiled and shrugged. “It’s alright.”

“COME ON FINNY!” Gwen shouted from the table. “Watch me!”

Cathaoir smiled, wrapping his arm around my waist and leading us in the direction of the table. “Are you alright with this?”

I shrugged. “Wait ‘till tomorrow to ask me that.” I paused, “But I think yea…it’s alright.”

Cathaoir grinned. “Good.”

Fin.