The Giúisscáth Massacre

Not all stories are funny or have happy endings.

A lone crow cried mournfully, while flying in a circle around Lughēn’s head. The sidhe listened intently to the cries of the crow, nodding from time to time in acknowledgement of what the crow was telling him. 

Lughēn of House Sorèntaū, was a warden of the south-east forests of Tir Ardúan Pinéthra [Land of Majestic Pine Trees]. He was fluent in crow, a necessity in his line of work. He also spoke Fianna [Deer], Mactír [Wolf], and many of the other four legged or winged languages. He recently came to the realization that he spent more time talking to the Nísidhe of Tir Ardúan Pinéthra than he did with his own people, the Aes Sidhe.

“Nísidhe” - in this context it means “Not of the Sidhe, but still a ‘citizen’ of the Sidhe nation.”

He was well outside his usual beat today, often patrolling the Sidhe hunting grounds to the north, watching for Rundellian poachers hunting the precious Fianna. They had a poor understanding of sustainable wildlife management, and opted for “if it’s there lets shoot it.” 

But there had been reports of human activity at the south east border, and he was on his way to investigate. Relations had grown tense between the Rundellians and the Sidhe in recent years, and so “human activity” had become synonymous with “trouble.” 

Sidhe, who lived for hundreds, often thousands of years, had to be extremely careful about sharing their lands with the Rundellians. The humans tended to eat everything in sight, leaving famine in their wake. Having gone through this boom and bust cycle three times in the last nine hundred years, the governing body had decided on a “zero tolerance” approach to human poaching in Tir Ardúan Pinéthra.

“Just because they only live for sixty… years? doesn’t give them the right to violate the treaties of their great-great-great-great… grandfathers signed with us,” said sidhe Ardrohan Rí [High Lord Rí]. It was clear he had no idea how many generations of humans had passed since the signing of the First Human-Sidhe Treaty of Giran in year three After Odin’s Wrath. Likely he didn’t care. 

After Odin’s Wrath (AOW) - The day Odin destroyed an entire nation with a meteor shower from heaven and changed the continent’s landscape and power structures forever.

And so Lughēn and members of his house had been tasked with the stewardship of the Clann na Fianna grounds. Their job was not to hunt the Fianna, but any humans who might prey upon them. Lughēn had discovered many humans over the years, who would cry “It’s just one deer! Our families are starving!” Except it was never just one deer. And humans were always starving. 

The answer to each of them was the same. An arrow to the heart, and their bodies dumped at the forest’s edge in warning.

But something had been off today. There were few birds about, and the woods were quiet, which often warned predators nearby. And while that wasn’t unusual within Tir Ardúan Pinéthra, Lughēn was deep in the southeast woods, an area that all the Clanns had agreed would be left to the Fianna to inhabit peacefully and free of predation. Even the Mactír Mhór [Great Wolves] agreed to these terms, and they were the closest to the humans in their ravenous desire to hunt. They, at least, understood balance.

“Cawwwwwwwww.. Cawwwww… Cawwwwwww,” the crow screeched at Lughēn.

Lughēn’s eyes widened in horror. The Crow spoke of a Nísidhe dwelling on the border with the humans. Of humans carrying axes and bringing fire - and the land being devastated and pillaged.

There was a community of ground and tree dwellers that lived out there. Animals and birds that survived from a mix of plains and forest foraging, who had more contact with the humans than the Sidhe did. Many crow colonies were there, and the trees were old and well cared for. 

“Take me there, now,” Lughēn said to the crow, a messenger bird by the name of Káte. He set off after the crow as fast as he could. Which, being a Sidhe, was pretty damn fast. 

He arrived later that day, covered in sweat from several hours of running. Káte led him to the top of a forested hill, overlooking a horrifying sight. Smoke drifted through the woods, creating a haze strong enough that it irritated Lughēn’s senses. Fires weren’t uncommon in the coniferous forests, even necessary from time to time, so any competent ranger carried a mask to protect themselves from the smoke. Lughēn was no exception. 

From this hilltop he could see the ruin that had been inflicted upon the Baile na Aes Mbeagán [Town of Small Folk] known as “Giúisscáth [Shadespine].” 

The forest-town was gone.

In its place were tree-stumps, burning slash piles, and recently scraped land creating roads into the area. Teams of horses dragging felled tree trunks stomped their way down these roads towards a camp in the distance. He could see a multitude of humans going about their work, stripping down and preparing the trees for transportation to the nearby river. The humans had destroyed nearly a hundred acres of forest. Thousands, even tens of thousands of trees cut down and dragged away. 

Lughēn stared in horror and amazement - he’d been through here less than two weeks ago and there’d been no signs of humans. 

Kàte cawed at him in sorrow and despair. Many crows had tried to go for help, but been shot down by keen eyed rangers who’d come through shooting any wildlife they could find before the lumberjacks moved in. 

They hadn’t just killed the animals and birds, they’d fed them to the workers.

The humans had been thorough. 

“Go to House Sorèntaū in Cathair Ardúan Túmora [City of the Great Mound]. You’ll know it by the banner of the Fia and Sionnach [Fox]. Find my father, Drūgol. Tell him everything you saw, and that Lughēn will be returning as soon as he is able, to confirm your testimony. He must go to Lord Rí and tell him the humans have broken the treaty,” Lughēn said with dark certainty about what this meant. 

Kàte hopped on the ground beside him several times, cawing a mix of fury and grief, and flew off.

In the last census, twenty thousand Nísidhe citizens lived in Giúisscáth.
The town was destroyed, and with it the homes of those Nísidhe. 
How many had escaped? 
Lughēn didn’t know.
It wouldn’t matter.
The treaty had been violated.

There would be war.

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Editorial Note:

For anyone who is more familiar with the Gaelic - Celtic language, I apologize in advance for my butchery of it in the creation of the Sidhe dialect.

Balancing authenticity and creativity is always a tricky set of pressures when you’re building much of your world’s lore off of… well our world’s myths and history.

It was a tricky decision to build the Sidhe language off a language spoken in Celtic times, adding a thousand+ years of language drift, and accounting for the fact that it probably would have been a different dialect to begin with. Alas I am not a scholar of old Gaelic, and have not the time to become one. It’s not supposed to be exactly the same, because realistically… it wouldn’t be.

So I am giving it my best shot. Let’s all pretend that my ignorance in getting the words exactly right is just the differences between what they (the Sidhe of that world) and the early Celts (of this world) would have spoken. My ignorance isn’t a failing, it’s a feature! And I’m sticking to that story.

That being said, if you’re a fan and you’re really big into the Gaelic - Celtic language and history, shoot me a message and lets talk. I’m always open to learning more and getting closer to something authentic.

I’m going to do my best to release another short story before Christmas - but if I don’t, then Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays, and may Krampus overlook your naughtiness this year. Yea - you know what I’m talking about.

Cheers,
Robin George