No Such Thing As Unicorns
Title: No Such Thing As Unicorns
Author: lacesforalady
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
A/N: Beta'd by the wonderful thisissirius.
Mr. Magnusson, the big one says. You know anything about, um, supernatural horses? I mean, any folklore, local stories? It's for my anthropology class.
The one in leather's studying the bookshelves. Doesn't seem interested.
Local stories? No, son. But I can tell you about the Njogel.
Tall one perks up. What's that, he asks, Scandinavian?
Scottish. Now, gie an ear.
Imagine that it's night-time, and you're alone on a long, muddy stretch of country road. It's not a clear beautiful night with stars and moonlight and birds singing; no, it's the other kind of night: dark and close and brooding. The land all around you is low and wet, covered in prickling thistles and low scrubs and sucking pools of water, all obscured by shifting mists that are more brown than white.
There's a lake in front of you, a black blot on the landscape. It's not massive- big enough that you wouldn't want to fall in, but not big enough to swim in. There's a tree beside the lake, and another one off in the distance, and tall yellow grass rustling between. Of course, the grass is more grey than yellow, moon-washed like everything else is at night.
You look at the pool and suddenly realize that there's something moving in the water. What is it? It's unlike anything you've seen before- at first you think that it's a toad, but then it gets bigger and you wonder if you're imagining things. And then- you must be mad, because the water ripples, and there's a horse's head in the water. No neck or body, just a huge black head, darker than the water around it. It sees you, looks at you with far more intelligence than any animal's ever had. The black head floating on the brackish water watches you with intent.
Then, before you've had time to shake off this hallucination, this moon-madness, there's a neck coming up out of the water, and then, more quickly than you'd imagine or expect, the rest of the body is heaving up out of the water as the horse climbs the bank. The horse's hooves make soft sounds in the wet sod as it walks towards you.
The horse stops and waits. It's a beautiful creature, long and gracefully proportioned. You reach out, feel warm breath on your palm, let it push a soft, silky nose against your open hand. It has chosen you. You run a hand along it's neck, finger the long unkempt mane. You expect the horse to be matted and muddy, but it's flanks are strong and smooth. Even as you examine it, you begin to wonder vaguely about a blacksmith, horseshoes, a bridle. The horse stands still and watches you patiently. Waits. You're certain now that you can control this animal, can bring it in from the cold and make it yours. When you reach up to mount the horse, it doesn't seem as tall as it was before, and it's easy to haul yourself up and onto it's back. You tighten your grip on the silky mane, and the two of you stand for a moment.
But then the horse moves under you, turns around and begins to head straight back to the lake with dumb animal intent. You tug on it's mane, kick and squeeze and fight, but the horse ignores you completely and suddenly the silky hair is coarse and slimy between your fingers. The coat, so smooth and dark before, is matted and rough, and you can feel it's ribs under your legs. You pull savagely at it's mane, kick and yell and fight, but the horse takes no more notice of you than it would a flea, and you're so high up that you don't dare jump.
The water's over your thighs now, and you realize that you didn't notice when you began to get wet. The horse moves faster than you expected, and now the water's closing around your waist, brackish and smelly, and you wish you hadn't been such a fool, hadn't dawdled at night, hadn't touched the damn horse-thing. Your knuckles are white on the horse's mane when they disappear under the clammy water, and you send up one last prayer-
But you want a happy ending, don't you? You want to hear about your brother, your brave brother who won't ride horses because girls are better for his balls, your brother who maybe sees you from a distance, who shouts and dives into the murky water and swims down. It's deeper than it looks, much deeper, and you're holding your breath just for the hell of it, because the horse is dissipating beneath you, leaving you with nothing but skeletons for company. A strong arm suddenly wraps around you from behind, forcing out that last breath of air, but you're being pulled away, up, and you rip a hank of hair from the horse's mane because you can't unclench your fingers.
You both surface, gasping and half-drowned, and your brother hustles you into his car, choking and coughing and full of water. Wheels spin in the mud and then you're off, away, and you think you might have seen a horse far off by that second tree. There's nothing but water-weeds in your hands.
You'll never ride another horse again as long as you live.
Tall one looks up at Leather jacket. Sounds about right, he says.
Leather jacket nods slowly. You forgot something, he says. See, I hear a Njogel sometimes turns into a human, he says.
Your nostrils flare.
The two boys- hunters, you realize- are standing now. A shiver runs down your spine.
Does it, now? you ask. That's a fine gift. Good luck with your assignment.
Yeah, Leather jacket says. Yeah.
See you tonight, he says.
Author: lacesforalady
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
A/N: Beta'd by the wonderful thisissirius.
Mr. Magnusson, the big one says. You know anything about, um, supernatural horses? I mean, any folklore, local stories? It's for my anthropology class.
The one in leather's studying the bookshelves. Doesn't seem interested.
Local stories? No, son. But I can tell you about the Njogel.
Tall one perks up. What's that, he asks, Scandinavian?
Scottish. Now, gie an ear.
Imagine that it's night-time, and you're alone on a long, muddy stretch of country road. It's not a clear beautiful night with stars and moonlight and birds singing; no, it's the other kind of night: dark and close and brooding. The land all around you is low and wet, covered in prickling thistles and low scrubs and sucking pools of water, all obscured by shifting mists that are more brown than white.
There's a lake in front of you, a black blot on the landscape. It's not massive- big enough that you wouldn't want to fall in, but not big enough to swim in. There's a tree beside the lake, and another one off in the distance, and tall yellow grass rustling between. Of course, the grass is more grey than yellow, moon-washed like everything else is at night.
You look at the pool and suddenly realize that there's something moving in the water. What is it? It's unlike anything you've seen before- at first you think that it's a toad, but then it gets bigger and you wonder if you're imagining things. And then- you must be mad, because the water ripples, and there's a horse's head in the water. No neck or body, just a huge black head, darker than the water around it. It sees you, looks at you with far more intelligence than any animal's ever had. The black head floating on the brackish water watches you with intent.
Then, before you've had time to shake off this hallucination, this moon-madness, there's a neck coming up out of the water, and then, more quickly than you'd imagine or expect, the rest of the body is heaving up out of the water as the horse climbs the bank. The horse's hooves make soft sounds in the wet sod as it walks towards you.
The horse stops and waits. It's a beautiful creature, long and gracefully proportioned. You reach out, feel warm breath on your palm, let it push a soft, silky nose against your open hand. It has chosen you. You run a hand along it's neck, finger the long unkempt mane. You expect the horse to be matted and muddy, but it's flanks are strong and smooth. Even as you examine it, you begin to wonder vaguely about a blacksmith, horseshoes, a bridle. The horse stands still and watches you patiently. Waits. You're certain now that you can control this animal, can bring it in from the cold and make it yours. When you reach up to mount the horse, it doesn't seem as tall as it was before, and it's easy to haul yourself up and onto it's back. You tighten your grip on the silky mane, and the two of you stand for a moment.
But then the horse moves under you, turns around and begins to head straight back to the lake with dumb animal intent. You tug on it's mane, kick and squeeze and fight, but the horse ignores you completely and suddenly the silky hair is coarse and slimy between your fingers. The coat, so smooth and dark before, is matted and rough, and you can feel it's ribs under your legs. You pull savagely at it's mane, kick and yell and fight, but the horse takes no more notice of you than it would a flea, and you're so high up that you don't dare jump.
The water's over your thighs now, and you realize that you didn't notice when you began to get wet. The horse moves faster than you expected, and now the water's closing around your waist, brackish and smelly, and you wish you hadn't been such a fool, hadn't dawdled at night, hadn't touched the damn horse-thing. Your knuckles are white on the horse's mane when they disappear under the clammy water, and you send up one last prayer-
But you want a happy ending, don't you? You want to hear about your brother, your brave brother who won't ride horses because girls are better for his balls, your brother who maybe sees you from a distance, who shouts and dives into the murky water and swims down. It's deeper than it looks, much deeper, and you're holding your breath just for the hell of it, because the horse is dissipating beneath you, leaving you with nothing but skeletons for company. A strong arm suddenly wraps around you from behind, forcing out that last breath of air, but you're being pulled away, up, and you rip a hank of hair from the horse's mane because you can't unclench your fingers.
You both surface, gasping and half-drowned, and your brother hustles you into his car, choking and coughing and full of water. Wheels spin in the mud and then you're off, away, and you think you might have seen a horse far off by that second tree. There's nothing but water-weeds in your hands.
You'll never ride another horse again as long as you live.
Tall one looks up at Leather jacket. Sounds about right, he says.
Leather jacket nods slowly. You forgot something, he says. See, I hear a Njogel sometimes turns into a human, he says.
Your nostrils flare.
The two boys- hunters, you realize- are standing now. A shiver runs down your spine.
Does it, now? you ask. That's a fine gift. Good luck with your assignment.
Yeah, Leather jacket says. Yeah.
See you tonight, he says.