Work Text:
"O, where are you going?" "To Scarborough fair,"
Savoury, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
"Remember me to a lass who lives there,
For once she was a true love of mine.
“You really have to stop finding dead bodies in gardens, love. It’s looks bad.”
Helga heard two voices whisper from within an alcove to Parsley’s Garden. Though she usually found herself above common gossip, the topic of that conversation was clearly more serious than normal. She turned her head towards the two whispering women and frowned, one of them looked vaguely familiar.
“Rosemary, what’s going on? Who did you find.”
The woman that had initially spoken her companion’s shoulders in an attempt to get her out of the shock of finding a corpse. She was unsuccessful and she herself got increasingly agitated as Helga walked closer.
“Are the two of you alright? I couldn’t help but hear what you just said.”
The crying woman looked at her, another tear slid down her face as she beckoned Helga to follow. Inside the alcove, inside the garden, where, in all her glory, Rowena laid.
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After some tea and many tears did the story become clear to Helga.
The, still, crying woman had eventually introduced herself as Rosemary Boxer, the non-maj Rowena was married to. (Helga had known about that development, and had voiced her, rightful, concerns. Mages and non-maj did not do well together.)
The other woman was luckily a lot calmer, as could be expected, and was able to tell the most important details Helga had not been privy to. She told Helga to call her Thyme and did not elaborate on her first name.
Rowena hadn’t been spending as much time with her as she should, this Helga knew, but she was in Scarborough for a surprise visit. Rosemary had been overjoyed when she had received the letter from Rowena to meet in Parsley’s Garden. That was until she saw the still body of her wife.
It looked like a simple murder.
It was not a simple murder.
For one, Rowena was not that easy to take down, let alone without being noticed by the people on the other side of a garden wall.
Two, Helga had seen a trail of too light footsteps leading away from the murder scene into a fairy ring.
The fae in question was easily found if one knew where to look.
Helga had come across them before during another sticky incident between the magical and non-maj world. She could only hope it wouldn’t end as badly this time around.
The fae then, same as now, are more than willing to cooperate. For a price of course. If you could solve their riddle, they would return what was taken, if not. Well, Helga preferred not to think about that.
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The waves crashed against the cliffs as Rosemary and Thyme tried to dissuade Helga from climbing down towards the water.
They had taken the whole “magic is real” a lot better than Helga had feared, but that didn’t take away that some insane fae had issued supposed impossible tasks. Magic could be real, sure, but that didn’t mean the laws of nature no longer applied and there was no acre of land between the sea foam and the sea sand. It still wouldn’t be there if you looked very hard and got trashed into a cliff.
It was clear that no one believed in Helga’s capabilities on this front.
But she knew it was possible. Rowena wasn’t here to be smart and witty, she had to be. And if that meant forcing the sea to stray from the land, that was what she would do.
It was rather a lot easier if one believed in oneself.
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The fae was waiting for them when they returned with a cambric shirt without seems nor needle work and a basket full of peppercorn tied together with a duck’s feather. An acre of dry land laying beneath the cliffs of Scarborough.
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Rowena woke up alone in a room she should be more familiar with than she was. She must have hit her head or something as she did not remember arriving in Scarborough.
Alas, Rosemary would come home soon.