Warnings: Dark Fantasy, language, adult content
Pairings: RusCan

Chater 1: The Rock

The grey misty fog that seemed to perpetually cover the rocky landscape slowly began to recede as the red morning sun warmed up the air around the seaside fisherman's village.

Trying his best not to misstep in the fog, a young man named Matthew Williams who was barely out of his twenties and very much out of his element, instinctively dug his hands deeper into the warm coat pockets of his yellow Fisherman's toggle raincoat. And at the same time, he was trying to avoid yet another treacherous muddy puddle that threatened challenge the limits of his tall rubber boots.

While by no means a fisherman himself, or even a native to the fishing province of Newfoundland, Matthew had been forced to adapt to the local attire ever since he and his guardian had moved to the small village only the month before.

The date on the calendar may have indicated that it was early summer, but the unpredictable weather, chilly strong winds, and constant threat of rain had Matthew forgoing his more familiar clothes almost the first time he'd made the long trek into town to fetch supplies.

A truck making its way down to the dock startled Matthew by honking its horn loudly as the driver recognized the young man and waved cheerily through the car window, inadvertently splashing the blonde when one of his truck wheels hit a pothole in the dirt road.

Matthew grimaced uncomfortably and courteously waved back as he continued to cross the street on his way over to the general store to pick up his order of food. As he neared the front entrance, another gruff looking local recognized him on sight and opened the door to yell into the store and announce his presence to those inside.

"Eh Mike! Dat Williams boy's here 'ta see to dem dere order!"

Immediately Matthew heard a younger voice answering the old man from inside. "Al'right… Al'right.. give me a sec! Stay where yer at, Oi'll come where yer to."

The old man smiled back warmly at Matthew, indicating that he should take a seat on the old withered bench while he waited. "Don't you worry; me son'll be out in a moment wit' yer fish."

He then reached up to scratch at his stubbly grey beard while giving a nod to Matthew who was desperately trying not to show just how hard it was for him to understand any of the thick accents that all the Newfies in the province had to one degree or another.

Having grown up in various cities around Canada, the culture shock of now living in a rural village, and a Newfoudland one at that, was constantly putting the young man out of sorts. But at the same time he honestly didn't want to offend any of the kind hearted people that had so openly welcomed Arthur and himself into their town.

The old man continued to smile pleasantly as he surveyed the sun peeking out from the thick fog, allowing them to catch some glimpses of the rocky shore bordering the cold Atlantic Ocean.

"How's dat dere Fad'der of yers doing? He still sick as an old man?"

Matthew thought of poor Arthur still stuck back inside their bright red Oceanside house; unable to do much more than to walk around the first floor and do some light chores, but even that was a significant improvement from the pale, gaunt and sickly state he'd been in when they'd first arrived in their new home.

"He's improving every day, thank you for asking. I-I'm going to try that soup recipe out tonight that your wife suggested. I think Arthur will really like it." Matthew politely replied as he fiddled with one of the toggles on his coat.

The old man chuckled deeply at the shy mannerism of their newest resident, as charmed by him as everyone else in their small community. "You're a nice kind young feller Mattie, to be taking care of family all on yer own. A good son 'dough… a good son."

Matthew bit his lip to prevent himself from correcting the old man for the hundredth time that Arthur was not in fact his father, but his guardian; but he was beginning to think the point was rather mute among the other villagers.

The door suddenly swung open and Mike appeared with a small box packed with some local fish caught fresh that morning along with a few other ingredients that Matthew had ordered for the soup.

When Matthew had taken possession of the box, Mike reached back into the door and pulled out a small paper bag and placed it on top of the box.

"Here b'y; sum 'Hard Tack' fer yer soup." He told him as he slapped Matthew so hard on the shoulder that he actually stumbled a few steps to the side.

"Hard Tack?" Matthew hesitantly asked, having never before heard the term.

Mike's father gave another chortle at the confused expression, and a cheeky grin appeared on his face. "Dat is 'Hard Bread', might break yer teeth if you eat it as is, but it'll taste great soaked up in some nice soup. Good fer healing up your sick fad'der."

Mike piped up beside him in a teasing tone "Or if you hate it, you could always just keep a piece in your pocket, keep dem fairy folk away. Dey can't stand dat dere Hard Tack."

Both men laughed at Matthew's confused and doubtful expression, before the older man elbowed his son into offering Matthew a ride back to his house, but before he could do so, the young blonde politely declined

"N-no thanks… I like the walk along the coast. It's… beautiful." Matthew shyly admitted.

"Aye… dat it is…" the old man nodded sagely in agreement while Mike only shrugged his shoulders in resignation.

"Alright... you knows yourself. Just don't be falling off no cliffs. I donts feel like going for a swim today." Again Mike began to laugh as he walked back into the store, his father waving goodbye to the gentle young man as he prepared to make the trek back home.

The walk back along the cliffs and coves might not have seemed as beautiful to most people, with the cold water crashing hard below onto the jagged rocks, and the sun still mostly hidden behind the dark clouds above.

But to Matthew, it had to be the most relaxing and beautiful scenery he'd ever seen, but that was mostly because he hadn't seen much.

All his life Arthur had whisked him from one big city to the next, almost seeming to choose the busiest and most populated places with the least vegetation he could find.

This in itself might have been fine if Matthew had only been able to stay long enough to make friends or get to know his surroundings. But they'd always moved before there had been any chance of that.

And whether it was the lifestyle, the constant change of location, it was Arthur who had ultimately paid the price for it in the end.

Matthew hadn't noticed his decline at first; living with Arthur almost every second of the day he was actually the last person to notice.

But over the years, bit-by-bit, Arthur had started to… fade. At first he was just tired all the time, not as energetic as he used to be. Then… it was other things, loss of appetite, gaunt features, and many other similar symptoms… until it became too much and something had to be done.

No one was more surprised than Matthew when Arthur called him into his sickroom one morning and calmly declared with trepidation laced on his voice that they were going to move once again, but this time to a small village on the coast of Canada's most eastern province.

Had Arthur actually listened to Matthew and gone to see a doctor, the young man was sure that the medicals professionals would have agreed that moving was the last thing Arthur needed to be doing in his condition, but as it was, they were packed up within the week.

Matthew would never forget the day when they'd arrived at their new home and he'd helped his sickly guardian out of the car.

As Arthur surveyed the Ocean cliffs, he titled his head back and took a deep breath as the spray from the sea washed over him, closing his eyes as if the very act alone caused him pure ecstasy.

When he finally exhaled the salty air, he reopened his eyes and Matthew could have sworn the once dull globes were now sparkling with newfound health.

The weeks that followed proved Arthur had right all along… yet again. He did indeed grow strong, almost by the minute. But with Arthur's building strength, came the end to some of the freedom that Matthew had started to enjoy while his guardian had been incapacitated.

Arthur had always been a strict taskmaster with a rigid set of rules; he'd never been quite as bad as in their latest home by the sea.

Most of the time Arthur was a nervous wreck whenever Matthew was gone more than a few minutes outside of the house. And he had set up a new set of rules that Matthew was fairly certain that no one else in the village had to abide by.

Things like, Matthew was to remain close to Arthur at almost all times during the day, saving the necessary trips for supplies into the town. And even those were supposed to be kept short, and he was absolutely forbidden to stray from the road.

Matthew had a ridiculous curfew that started long before nightfall, and he was under no circumstances allowed to leave the house during the night for any reason what so ever.

The funny thing was, when Matthew was alone with Arthur, it was like the other man wanted nothing to do with him. Their conversations were stilted at best, punctuated now and then only by Arthur's short temper. And any overt signs of affection on Matthew's part were greeted with what seemed like barely contained disdain. To say Arthur was 'stuffy' would have been an under exaggeration.

Matthew could not remember a single time in his life that his guardian had ever offered any form of physical contact by choice, other than the minimal amount needed to raise a child. Arthur never hugged him, stroked his hair, or even patted his back to tell him a job well done… not like he'd seen other parents do with their children.

Arthur quite literally kept Matthew at arms distance, even going so far as to sometimes move to the other side of the room when Matthew entered it. It was not particularly hard to see how he'd grown up into the recluse young man he was today. How could he NOT be shy of intimacy, both physical and mental, when he couldn't even share such personal things with the only 'family' he had ever known.

It was enough to make a guy feel just a tad self-conscious… and Matthew did in fact feel just that way…

He would sometimes wonder what it was about him that Arthur so clearly disliked, and Matthew compensated by trying to be as obedient and helpful as he could, but it only ever seemed to make Arthur retreat further away.

These past few years where Matthew had been forced to care for his guardian had actually been some of the most meaningful to him, because it had forced Arthur to let him get close, whether or not he had wanted him there.

And…yet despite all this, Matthew was sure that Arthur was at least somewhat fond of him. He seemed to enjoy teaching him new things, and he had always been genuinely concerned when Matthew had been hurt, or scared… or simply unhappy.

He just wasn't the sort of person who was affectionate, something Matthew thought he might eventually learn to accept… one day.

Deep in thought, Matthew tried to let his mind center more on the lovely view and less on what waited for him at home as he stretched out his morning walk to the village as long as possible. The soothing sounds of the waves crashing below doing just as much good for him, as it apparently did for Arthur.

He had secretly hoped that maybe they would end up staying here for a good amount time since Arthur was clearly doing better in the fresh salt air. That they would maybe even stay long enough so that Matthew could take up a trade and help support their small family, even though he knew that Arthur did not lack for any amount of funds.

But his hopes were constantly being dashed every time his surly guardian would loudly proclaim that they'd be leaving the moment his health had recovered enough.

It was a great contradiction because Matthew could clearly see that Arthur was happier here then he'd been in a long time, but he was also more nervous than ever before, he'd never been this overprotective in the past.

His thoughts now irreversibly centered on his blonde wild haired guardian as Matthew continued to meander down the long dirt road, dodging yet more puddles, while being gently misted by the sea spray.

As he saw his rickety old house appear in the distance, Matthew's steps began to slow even more, trying to enjoy every last minute of his time alone in the wild elements of the coast.

Out of no where, an unexpected sound in the distance made Matthew pause in his steps, as he looked off to his right where a particularly dangerous looking cliff was situated. Behind the loud crashing of the waves below, Matthew could swear he heard… some music.

It was soft and melodic and it almost seemed to… call to him.

As if some strange urge had overtaken him, Matthew stepped off of the well worn dirt road, and on to the straggly grass highland near the cliffs. He slowly, but cautiously, walked closer to cliff he knew could bring sudden death if he took a wrong step.

Carefully peering over the edge, Matthew looked down at the black rocks far below for anything that could be the source of the strange music dancing in the wind… but he saw nothing.

Only rocks, and water, and even more rocks.

Tilting his head to the side, Matthew noticed something at the very bottom of the cliff that he'd never bothered to look for before.

Being barraged over and over by wave after wave was a small tree that had somehow survived against all odds of probability, clinging to life in the way that all plants did in this land. It looked to maybe be a birch tree or something else similar for it had a silvery tint to it, but really Mathew was too far up to get a good look at the small tree so far below.

The sea spray was so strong on the cliff that his wavy blonde hair was now nearly soaked through as it clung to the sides of his head, little salt-water droplets tracing a fine path down his chin and neck. He swiped at them irritably while also wiping his now foggy glasses before leaning forward just a bit more to see if he could get a better look.

But he nearly fell forward instead when he was suddenly jostled by a strong grip grabbing his upper arm and throwing him backwards so violently that the box he'd been carrying flew out of his hands and onto the ground, along with himself, as it dispersed all of its contents.

"Just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing Matthew?"

Matthew looked up from where he laid sprawled out on the grass, shocked that his guardian was not only so far from the house, but had had enough energy to forcibly pull him away from the cliff. In the back of his mind, he noticed that the strange music he could have sworn he'd heard… was now gone.

"I-I… thought I heard something… b-but… I…" his voice trailed off, it all sounded too ridiculous now that he'd said it out loud.

But Arthur didn't laugh at him, in fact, if anything he grew angrier, physically grabbing the thick material of Matthew's jacket that covered his arm, while picking up the fallen groceries.

"I told you in no uncertain terms that you were to walk straight back to the house, that you were to never step off of that road… did I not make myself clearl enough?" Arthur yelled as he pushed and pulled at Matthew's arm while they walked back to the house.

'Y-yes… Arthur… b-but I wasn't going to fall over… I swear… I just wanted to look…" He was cut off again as Arthur kicked the door in and threw Matthew into the house.

"That is it!" Arthur exclaimed, slamming the door behind him. "We have clearly stayed too long; I knew I should never have come back here."

"B-back here? W-wait… leave? No Arthur, we just got here… and I was going to ask to apprentice as a fisherman… and… and… maybe learn to swim… and…" Arthur's eyes went wide during Matthew's babbling, and if he'd been angry before, he was livid now.

"You? Out on the sea… on your own? Are you mad? Absolutely not! We are leaving… tomorrow, if possible. So I suggest you go upstairs and pack…" Arthur stopped his ranting when he noticed the absolute crestfallen expression on his charge.

Matthew's head was hung low, and he was opening and closing his hands as he gripped the side of his raincoat in a sign of the frustrated emotions he was feeling inside.

Arthur could count the times on his one hand that the normally passive aggressive Matthew had ever talked back to him… and he couldn't even remember the last time Matthew had asked him for something.

"I-I'm sorry Arthur… I'm sorry I didn't listen to your rules… I'm sorry I'm so disobedient… p-please don't make us leave… I promise I won't ever look at the cliffs again, or talk to anyone if you don't want, please… I don't want to move again."

But sadly Matthew's plea and determination to stay only furthered Arthur's resolve that they'd stayed too long already.

Arthur let out a long sigh, as if releasing all his pent up anger and worry, but he made no move to get closer to the shaking boy beside him, choosing to instead lean against the wall for support.

"Matthew… it's not your fault… not really. It's my fault, I should never have brought you here. But… but when we get back to the city… you could get a job there if you'd really like. I've always encouraged you to make friends, to meet and talk to other people… just not here… just not in this place."

Matthew did not bother to lift his head, and instead whispered dejectedly. "What does it matter… if we're just going to move again…"

Arthur pushed himself away from the small hallway in avoidance of the issue and walked into the nearby living room to sit down on the old sofa, having taxed all of his energy in his hurry to get to his young charge.

"I'm sorry for that Matthew, I really, truly am… and I know it's hard to believe sometimes, but I probably hate the cities more than you could ever imagine. But… this is our life… for better or worse… we have to move."

Watching as Matthew slunk into the living room to take a seat on the sofa next to him, Arthur immediately stood back up when he felt Matthew's wet coat brush against his arm.

Arthur rubbed the spot as if it now caused him some discomfort as he walked further away and tried to ignore how badly Matthew flinched when he saw the action.

Matthew should have known better than to expect sympathy from Arthur, who would rather show a complete stranger some comfort than him. The thought was enough to embolden Matthew to look up at his guardian and ask him something he'd always been too afraid or simply too compliant to ask before.

"Arthur… are you my father?"

The older man's eyes went wide, as if he couldn't even begin to understand where Matthew would get such a ludicrous idea. "D-don't be ridiculous, you know full well I'm not father!"

Now wringing his hands while he still wore his thick fisherman's jacket, Matthew felt ashamed for asking in the first place. Of course he'd known that, he just didn't understand it.

"But… then why do you keep me around if I'm only a burden to you…"

"A burden?" Arthur proclaimed in surprise, scoffing just as much at the idea as of him being related to Matthew. "You've never been any such thing. In fact if anything, you've probably the only thing that's kept me sane all these years…. And Matthew…"

His charge looked up, pure hope in his eyes that Arthur might let him in on… something… anything about either of their pasts, or why they moved around so much, or just what was going on in the other man's head.

He was naturally disappointed when Arthur inevitably changed the subject.

"Y-you're not a disobedient child you know… you've a good person… perhaps a bit too curious for your own good… but…good none the less." Arthur smiled ruefully. "I've never raised anyone as well behaved as you before. So... don't go blaming yourself for things that are out of your control… it's just… certain things can't be helped."

Matthew scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion, not remember any other children living with them as he was growing up. "Who else have you raised?"

Arthur swallowed uncomfortably. "No one of course… you're twisting my words… I just meant… I'm just trying to say… oh forget it…. It's not important. Where hell are those groceries, I believe you promised me fish soup tonight."

Matthew sighed softly to himself. He could always tell that Arthur was trying, he really was… but he inevitably held back in the end…

It was like two perfect strangers living in the same house, except Arthur knew everything about him, and he… he knew nothing about either of them.

Although the mood had lightened somewhat, and he seemed to have been forgiven, there was no doubt in his mind that Arthur was very serious when he said that they would be moving tomorrow for good.

He didn't particularly feel like making lunch anymore, and might have stayed on the couch for much longer to sulk had he not heard his guardian cry out in pain.

Matthew immediately ran into the kitchen to see Arthur, who had been placing the fish on the counter, now holding his hand close to his chest as if he'd been burnt.

On the ground was the bag of Hard Tack that Mike and his son had given him earlier free of charge.

Looking over at his Guardian, Matthew noticed that there was now a line of sweat on Arthur's brow, and that he was breathing a little fast.

His complexion had also turned a touch green, a sicklier version of the colour of his eyes. But as soon as he noticed Matthew, Arthur quickly schooled his expression.

"Paper cut." He explained with an embarrassed chuckle.

Matthew leaned down to pick up the fallen bag, now broken open, and placed it back on the counter.

"What else did you buy today Matthew?" Arthur asked casually, as he went back to putting the fish away.

"Oh, well… Mike gave us some hard bread for your soup; he said it would make you feel better."

Arthur grimaced, but then guiltily admitted to Matthew his feelings on the subject. "Uhg… Hard Tack… I can't stand the stuff. It's too tough and I can't abide the taste… but you know… it does make a good snack I hear. You should… you should probably load your coat pockets up with some for later. You never know when you could be hungry."

It was certainly an odd comment to come from Arthur; as he wasn't usually the "mother-hen" type despite his over protective tendencies.

"S-sure Arthur…" Matthew agreed anyways, grabbing a handful of the small biscuits and stuffing them into his coat pocket as he took off the almost dry jacket and hung it up near the front door. He then walked back to help prepare their mid day meal.

The rest of the day went by very quietly, neither man particularly in the mood to be social after that morning. And true to word, Arthur was busy on the phone making preparations for a rapid move, only stopping once to ask Matthew how he felt about 'Downtown Montreal'.

Matthew didn't feel great about it at all.

Matthew barely touched his supper that night, and the thoughts of tomorrow's move did nothing but lower his sprits further as the evening went on. He decided to escape the stifling atmosphere early in favour of some time alone and a good night's sleep.

Arthur allowed it, but caught him just as he was about to go up the stairs, and with a somewhat shaky hand slipped him a piece of Hard Tack into his palm.

"In case… you get hungry tonight, you didn't have any supper… and I certainly won't eat these disgusting things. J-just… make sure to lock your windows tonight."

Matthew eyed the bread warily, but took it nonetheless as he was eager to get back to his room where he could be alone.

When he was finally ready for bed, Matthew carelessly threw the Hard Tack onto his nightstand and walked over to lock his windows as directed.

Arthur always told him to do this every night, even though Matthew was fairly certain that no one was going to rob them blind in the middle of Nowhere, Newfoundland.

Thinking about this, Matthew realized he was still bitter about being forced to move, yet again, especially before he had had the chance to really come out of his shell and make some friends in this new town. So in a rare act of defiance, Matthew unlocked the windows again, and instead opened them up wide to let in the cool sea breeze air for the last time that he'd get to enjoy it.

He then laid himself down onto his bed, and tried not to let his eyes water up as the crashing waves lulled him to sleep.

"What did you say your name was again?" The stranger asked Matthew as they slowly walked away from the water's edge.

"M-matthew… b-but who are you?" The little boy asked, glad to be warm once again.

"It doesn't really matter who I am… or who I was… just who I'm gong to be?" The man answered.

But the little boy didn't understand.

Matthew wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but it was already well into the night when he was awoken by the sound of the same melody he'd heard only that morning.

The soft music that could barely be heard in the loud wind shouldn't have been enough to wake him… but somehow it did anyways.

And as he listened to it seeping into his room from the open window, Matthew once again had the undeniable urge to discover the source of the strange tune.

Quickly, and very quietly, changing into a pair of jeans, and a warm red wool knit sweater that was typical for the area, Matthew slowly cracked his bedroom door open and stepped out into the hallway.

…only to very nearly end his trip early when he almost accidentally tripped over a prone body lying in the hallway.

It was Arthur…

Matthew's heart clenched in worry before reason took over and it quickly turned back into annoyance.

His guardian had fallen fast asleep while leaning against the wall next to his door. Matthew was sure he had stayed there only to make sure that Matthew didn't do something… well like this.

It was more than enough to push Matthew through his initial nervousness, and he stepped around the sleeping man with a grim determination.

Arthur was dead to the world, obviously having greatly overexerted himself that day. His guardian was, after all, still genuinely sick.

Matthew had no problems creeping down the stairs to pull on his yellow toggle jacket, and slip into his tall rubber boats. Then as quietly as he could, he unlocked the latch, and stepped outside into the night.

Once out in the fresh air, the music hit Matthew like he'd walked into a wall.

It was no longer a soft melodic distraction in the wind; it was now practically ringing in his ears, so much so that Matthew almost ran in the direction that it was coming from, his natural curiosity increasing tenfold.

The grassy cliff was wet from the constant ocean spray, and he barely missed slipping a few times as he neared the cliff edge in his hurry to get to where he knew the music was the loudest.

Slowing down as he approached the ledge, Matthew peered over the edge just like before, although expecting to see little or nothing in the low light that the moon offered as it crept past the dark clouds.

But when he did lean over, Matthew was surprised to clearly see the same small tree that he'd noticed earlier… only this time, it was glowing.

There was no other way to describe it; the little tree was emitting a silver radiance that throbbed with the crashing of the waves below, as if feeding off of the salty water.

All Matthew could do was stare in disbelief at the sight, completely unable to move until he saw something else even less likely, a small glowing object, suddenly split away from the tree and faster than should have been possible, zip up the side of the cliff… heading straight for him.

The small… creature… buzzed and whizzed by as it flew hesitantly around his head until stopping abruptly directly in front of Matthew's face, while still keeping its distance.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it had not been this.

The small glowing being had the body of… well… a human… but he was no bigger than the palm of Matthew's hand. His features were almost nonexistent, save for small glowing green eyes, pointy ears and an unsmiling mouth. Otherwise it had an androgynous body with no hair what so ever, not even on its head. It was completely covered in the same pale green colour all over, and appeared to be held aloft be delicate looking wings, which looked like they'd be more at home on a dragonfly than on this strange mysterious thing.

With a trembling hand, Matthew reached up for… whatever it was to… to show that he meant it no harm. He watched as the small creature titled its head, considering what course of action to take.

The little creature suddenly caught a scent of something in the air that made its tiny eyes glow bright, and it quickly flew over to Matthew's outstretched hand, all pretense of hesitation now gone.

Matthew couldn't help the genuine smile that broke across his when the little being gently landed on his palm, tickling him as it did so.

The moment their skin made contact, it was like Matthew could feel its energy seeping into his hand where the creature stood.

But he barely had a chance to enjoy the sensation when the little being suddenly opened his mouth wide to reveal a surprisingly large set of sharp pointy teeth.

It wasted no time and sunk those same teeth into the soft flesh of the underside of Matthew's wrist, causing him to scream out in pain.

With his other hand, he managed to knock the little creature off, but he had to hold his wrist to stop the bleeding where his wound now throbbed agonizingly.

This was no small insect bite, that creature had tried to take a chunk out of his arm.

The little being let out an angry scream, his lips and teeth now covered in Matthew's blood. But before either of them knew what was happening, there were suddenly many more of the little creatures all around them.

The first creature didn't seem particularly pleased by this development at all, and lunged back at Matthew as if to claim to his prey for himself.

Matthew swatted angrily at the little beings with all his might, dodging ungracefully as they swooped and poked and tried to bite at him through his thankfully thick jacket in their blood induced feeding frenzy.

Their actions became more enraged and desperate, as did Matthew's as he tried desperately to back away from the little terrors, unable to watch what he was doing, or where he placed his feet.

And for one sickening second, that seemed to last much too long, he felt like he was suspended in air when his right foot was unable to find purchase… before gravity took over, and Matthew began to fall.

The blood thirsty creatures above him were left behind as the more pressing matter of his impending death became the forethought in his mind.

Matthew flailed frantically trying to grab onto whatever he could… something… anything… as he watched the little green creatures high above him recover quickly from the shock of his departure, and trail after him in a craze.

And just as they were about to catch up to him, Matthew hit the cold choppy waters with such a force that the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

He barely had time to be thankful that he'd not hit a rock and died on impact, when a wave sucked him under just as he tried to take a breath, the current dragging him backwards and then forward again in a circular motion along with the strong deadly wave that was about to crash hard into the side of the rock cliff, where only a small silver tree held on tight.

And then… darkness…

TBC…

Author's Note:

The Rock – The nickname for Newfoundland for obvious reasons ;)

Ok I said I wasn't going to post this until my other story was done. But my other story IS almost done, I have the last chapter basically written up, so no worries J

I've had this idea for a while, and while you don't quite know what's going to happen, I can tell you it's a dark fantasy, more on the line of Pan's Labyrinth meets… Dark crystal… meets Irish Fairy tales… but probably not as good :P

Don't worry about the Newfie accents, they don't appear again. I was VERY reluctant to set this story in Newfoundland, but it was either that or have Matthew in Ireland. Newfoundland has a very rich tradition of fairies, and a lot of folklore to back it up. So I've taken some of those stories to add to this one.

Hard Tack, Newfie folklore says to give children and adults Hard Tack in their pockets to ward off the fairies.

Sidenote: I always imagine that Matthew speaks in English when he's calm, speaks in French when he's flustered, and speaks newfie when he's drunk.

You know it's true :P

xxxxx

Translation (if you really did have a hard time with the above script. )

"Eh Mike! Dat Williams boy's here 'ta see to dem dere order!"

– Eh Mike! That Williams boy is here to see to his order.

"Al'right… Al'right.. give me a sec! Stay where yer at, Oi'll come where yer to."

– Alright, Alright… Give me a sec! Stay there, I'll come to you."

"Don't you worry 'by, me son'll be out in a moment wit' yer fish." – Don't worry, my son'll be out in a moment with your fish." (boy is not derogatory, it is just… a way of talking to someone, even to girls)

"How's dat dere Fad'der of yers doing? He still sick as an old man?"

- How's that father of yours doing? He's still sick as an old man?

"You're a nice kind young feller Mattie, to be taking care of family all on yer own. A good son 'dough… a good son."

– You're a nice kid Mattie, to be taking care of your family all on your own. A good son though, a good son."

"Here b'y, sum Hard Tack for yer soup."

- Here boy, some Hard Tack for your soup (Hard tack is a rock hard piece of bread… basically)

"Dat is 'Hard Bread', might break yer teeth if you eat it as is, but it will taste great soaked up in some nice soup. Good fer healing up your sick fad'der, dey say it's magic."

– That is hard bread, might break your teeth if you eat it as is, but it will taste great soaked up in some nice soup. Good for healing up your sick father, they say it's magic." (Tradition states hard tack or bread can heal you)

"Or if you hate it, you can always just keep a piece in your pocket, keep dem fairy folk away. Dey can't stand dat dere Hard Tack."

– Of if you hate it, you can always just keep a piece in your pocket, to keep the fairy folk away. They can't stand Hard Tack"

"Aye… dat it is…"

–"Yup, it sure is"

"Al'right... you knows yourself. Just don't be falling off no cliffs. I don'ts feel like going for a swim today."

– Alright. You know you what's best for yourself. Just don't be falling off the cliffs. I don't feel like going for a swim today.