Highsun 8th 501 NMR

Some friends in the Natural Philosophy Society asked for my research from an expedition I did a few decades back. They are creating a book on the Faerie folk.

My little Cinni is one of the cowriters.

Naturally, I was delighted to share my research on modern agrarian fey culture.

Field Notes from an Expedition to Brugh na Ciorcal

Blossombud 10th 470 NMR

I have finished settling into my research blind outside Brugh Na Ciorcal. I found a suitably large hole in an oak tree to serve as my camp, although I am questioning my decision to disguise myself as a robin as I use my beak to write these words. It might be worth relocating to somewhere where a creature that could hold a pen could conveniently dwell. Ugh, I am getting distracted again.

An aerial inspection revealed that the village of Brugh Na Ciorcal is an almost unremarkable average specimen of Fey Enclave except for its location. It is located in the crook of a bend of Gilline Run river (although the locals most certainly do not use that name. Inquire about that at a later date). The village is roughly 1000 feet in diameter as the robin flies, which is rather large for a fey settlement, and is surrounded on 3 sides by the river (did the inhabitants change the river’s course?). The village is perfectly circular, elevated roughly 20 feet above the surrounding terrain and surrounded by an earthen berm about 7 feet high and a ditch 4 feet deep on the landward side. The entrance is flanked by a pair of unusual-looking standing stones, perfectly square columns, definitely fey-related from the spiraling markings, but they look older than the village.

The village itself consists of 120 faerie burrow houses, or brughs, of various sizes, arranged in the typical concentric-ring layout connected by spiraling paths. At the center is a large circular green with expected Fey paganism standing stones and an altar. Surrounding the green is a larger brugh which is almost certainly the headman’s dwelling, what looks like an alehouse, a general store (A rarity in a Faerie enclave, possibly a sign of outside trade), and several larger brughs which likely belong to the headman’s favorite lackeys or druids.

Outside the village for another mile or so on both sides of the river is another spiral, this one made up of paths through enclosures, orchards, and gardens enclosed by wild but trimmed hedges. The majority of these were gardens of semi-wild vegetables and fruit trees. However, I was surprised to see a plowed field at the very outskirts of the clearing and what, to my bird tongue, tasted like common wheat. They obviously were planting the stuff because a youth with a stick chased me away. The presence of domesticated crops certainly raises my eyebrows, and this might suggest a larger societal drift towards baseline mortality in the same region.

Tomorrow I will attempt a full census. This will require either a change in form or a more creative approach; robins, as it turns out, are not inconspicuous when taking notes.

Blossombud 11th

I am so tired.

I have completed my census of the Brugh Na Ciorcal, having changed my shape no less than fourteen times to get into every nook and cranny. This was, in retrospect, excessive.

I assume that none of the residents noticed me, except for the pets.

Note to self: scout villages for cats and dogs before transforming into a mouse, shrew, or bird.

Secondary note: Dogs are enthusiastic; cats are methodical

For the most part, this village’s population is utterly average except for a few deviations.

The village population stands at approximately 650 individuals—give or take a handful, as counting while being chased out of a burrow is imprecise work.

The largest group consists of satyrs and satyrkin (195), followed by a substantial goblinoid population (130) and a notable number of centaurs (95). This distribution is not unusual in isolation, but the balance between them feels… deliberate. I cannot yet say why.

The remaining population comprises smaller fey species (25), various others (30), and individuals of mixed or unclear lineage (65).

Of particular interest is the presence of 15 Fomorians. Their integration level remains unclear. I did not observe them in communal clusters, nor entirely apart. They occupy an uncomfortable middle, which may be more telling than either extreme.

There are 180 children, 115 adolescents, 250 adults, 90 elders, and 15 who are… significantly older than the rest. I am uncertain whether to classify the latter as elders or as something else entirely.

Most of the population (roughly 70%) are farmers and herdsmen working the fields, which aligns with my earlier observations regarding their agricultural tendencies.

Of the remainder, 95 are craftsmen and artisans, suggesting a healthy internal economy. Seven serve as resident druids, with fifteen apprentices—an unusually robust druidic presence for a settlement of this size, though perhaps necessary given the mixed population.

Twenty (mostly the doddering ancients) appear to be unemployed, though I suspect this is a matter of perspective rather than reality.

25 make up the household of Sir Eochaid, the middle-aged centaur who serves as the village’s chief.

The reminder consists of the goblins of  the Fòlais’ family, who run the trading post, and Giorsail, a young hobgoblin hedge witch and diviner who seems to serve as an advisor to Sir Eochaid (This is… highly irregular. A non-druid serving as advisor to a village chief suggests either a breakdown in traditional authority or an adaptation I do not yet understand. I will investigate further.)

The village has 2000 sheep, 30 geese, 20 donkeys, innumerable cats, and a few dogs.

The whole village is unified in its dress, which consists of woolen kilts and tunics for the men and boys, and woolen dresses for the women and girls, all in a frankly unfortunate tartan pattern that I suspect is meant to signify unity. The only real visible indicators of status among the villagers are the green robes the druids wear over their clothes at all times, and the jewelry clasps, pins, and broaches the chief’s family, household, and top underlings wear, bronze for the servants, silver for the henchmen, and gold for the chief and his family.

Tomorrow I will start observing Sir Eochaid and his household. Hopefully, I will uncover useful data on the villagers’ social structure and customs and maybe get to the bottom of Giorsail’s presence in the village.

Blossombud 15th

It has been difficult to keep from laughing at Eochaid’s household over these last few days—though I am beginning to suspect that doing so would be unkind.

I spent half a week observing the headman and his household as a mouse and had to stifle myself a few times in order to prevent them from noticing the novelty of a laughing rodent.

The family consists of the Patriarch Sir Labhruinn Eochaid the 10th, his wife, Saraid, his sons, Búadach, Luthais, and Torna, his daughters, Samthann, Teafa, Ealga, and Cathach, and the ancient grandmother, Sìonag. Along with these numbers, Saraid was heavy with child and barely able to move from the master bedroom without help.

 Sir Labhruinn fancies himself a valiant warlord in the tradition of the knights of the Round Table—or even King Fredrick himself—and strives to live according to what appears to be a deeply sincere, if somewhat misunderstood, ideal of chivalry.

He refers to his Brugh as his castle, even though it is only marginally larger than the second biggest dwelling in the village and consists of only 18 rooms.

The focus of the brugh is a large circular room at its center, which houses the central hearth. Such chambers are universal to all burghs, but Sir Labhruinn uses them as his throne room and the great hall. He spends all days sitting upon a pallet, adjudicating secular matters, listening to counsel from the druids and Giorsail, and receiving reports from the villagers he calls his “men-at-arms,” a term which appears to confer more dignity than responsibility. 

This chamber also holds the family’s greatest treasures: a set of bronze centaur armor, a lance, and a sword, all of Faerie design, all heavily enchanted, and several tapestries that supposedly show his ancestors, who, according to him, were famous Faerie knights in one of the fallen Faerie kingdoms.

The other chambers consist of a kitchen, the bedchamber he and Saraid share, the bedrooms for the children, two guest chambers, a bedchamber/workspace for Giorsail, a room for Sìonag, a library, and a nursery. All the rooms were well furnished compared to the rooms in the other brughs in the village, with well-worn, heavy wooden furniture featuring lots of spiral engraving and various personalization. The sleeping chambers featured straw pallets that centaurs seem to prefer.

When not sitting in court, Labhruinn insists on teaching his sons the “art” of knightly warfare. Every day, just after lunch, they go out to the meadow beyond the fields and practice swordcraft, archery, and jousting. I am no swordswoman, but their efforts resembled rehearsal more than practice.

I also discovered the reason for Giorsail’s presence in the household. Apparently, Sir Labhruinn is doing things quite literally by the book. Le Morte d’Arthur, The Errantry of Frederick von Mountainheart, and several other storybooks in the library. They are heavily bookmarked and have multiple underlined sections per page. Giorsail was recruited to be  Sir Labhruinn’s own personal “Merlin,” though I am not certain Giorsail agrees with this designation.

I also have to correct my assessment of her ability; despite not being far out of girlhood, she is more than a mere hedgecrafter. Her spellbook suggests at least a modicum of tuition under a proper wizard. She also has the ability to see magic auras around people and things without using spells, a very inconvenient power for my purposes.

However, Giorsail’s presence seems to have disturbed the household’s harmony. Sìonag and Saraid have gotten into multiple nasty arguments with Giorsail over the last few days, including a few at the nightly feasts. I initially misinterpreted Luthais’s interest in Giorsail as romantic. This was incorrect. He appears instead to be drawn to her craft—specifically, to the possibility of becoming something other than what his father intends.

This is the limit of what I can glean through observation alone. To understand this household—and perhaps this village more broadly—I will need to participate. Giorsail’s abilities present a significant complication. I must consider my approach carefully.