hsavinien

Title: The Waterhorses
Author: H. Savinien
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word count: 556
Author's note: Dedicated to

mizwatson, who writes stories about monsters in love. Because of her, I'm writing about monsters who're...well...'in love' is not the phrase. Similar actions may be involved, though. Each Uisge is a flesh-eating fae beast that appears as a handsome man or a gorgeous horse and drowns and eats humans for fun. He hails from Scotland. Kelpies are similar Irish beasties, though they may do it more out of mischief than active malice. The Morrighan is an Irish goddess of sorts. She is Not A Nice Person At All.
Summary: Each uisge got the kelpie drunk on something very nasty while the latter was visiting from Ireland.

“This is shaming.”

“That, misfortunate though it be for you, isna my problem.”

“Oi, hands off!”

“Oh, spare me.”

“You’re not passing that off as an accident, mate! That was deliberate!”

The each uisge sighed, but kept walking. “Kelpie-man, do you wish to languish and burn here on the hot soil, or will you let me take you to the loch? I’m loathing to do the former, if only to guard the Kindly Ones from human ken.”

He was answered by a muttered cursing, at least part of which contained the words “-hellspawn Scots bastard son of an English Court.”

“Well?”

The black-haired creature glared around himself wildly, but finally grumbled. “I would take it a kindness an’ you would take me to the water ‘fore I dry out. If it please yourself.”

“It’s ever a pleasure, of course. Usual terms?”

An incoherent growl issued from the man-shaped creature slung over his shoulder. “Usual terms,” the kelpie agreed reluctantly. “Damned be your eyes, I’ll never let you cozen me into drinking that foul nix’s brew again. ‘tis no fit drink for an Eire-beast.”

Each uisge strode on, his shoulder jolting the kelpie’s stomach unkindly, while the damp trail of their dripping hair and the occasional waterweed marked their passage. Kelpie studied the rocks below him until their movement turned his stomach, then fixed his gaze a little higher, at the tangled, damp, bonny, pale hair dangling down his porter’s back. A sad day it was when a fine Irish Faebeast was too drunk to work his own good four legs. Or even work out how to get his four fine legs. Or hold onto his companion’s neck when he had four legs. Morríghan take the bugger. Only not, because she was in no habit of sharing her toys...

His dangling arms brushed against the other Fae’s arse and he grinned to himself, raising one hand a bit to cup and...oog. Each uisge jostled him sharply. He groaned. Each uisge laughed.

“I’m the rake of the county, Kelpie-man. I hardly need settle for drunken gropings from the nauseous wee get of a peat bog.”

“Nah, I’ll be back on my feet in a bitty...bit,” the kelpie assured him. “’s only three things to do in Eire, y’know,” he confided muzzily. “Fight, fuck, an’ fuck off for fuckin’ Scotland.”

“And drink.”

“’tis part and parcel of one o’ the other three.”

“So you’re in Scotland. What are you here for?”

The kelpie laughed. “Why, whichever of the first two takes your fancy, o’ course.”

The each uisge stopped, knelt, and slid the kelpie smoothly off his shoulder and into the salt water of the loch. The kelpie retched painfully, but sank into the shallows thankfully, muzziness clearing immediately as the clean water washed through him. He sighed, shook himself to shed the semblance of clothing, then flashed through all of his shapes in a blur of horse-man-beast-water creature and the myriad variations in between, then came up in a small water spout to catch the each uisge in a once-again human-shaped hand. “Ah, sober again now, devil take it. Well, Each Uisge, I’m in your waters, amn’t I? How for your pay in the bringing me here?”

Each uisge grinned sharp and bright and handsome and dived over the kelpie’s head to drag him under the water.