A Guide for Young Ladies Entering the Service of the Fairies

• Light and Dark Alfar, the difference is slighter than one might think, and I will advise this: do not go to them without first having friends in high and low places. It’s not the sort of place where you want to stand alone on your own merit, not without having those who would look for you if you became lost. I don’t mean physically vanishing. Have a look at my story ‘Not The Tree’ for an example of how the Light may be “kind” in granting humans their desires (see the story index).

I’ve heard very similar stories whispered, which I’ve written down for my Ladies — most lately in editing Sjofn’s. This short piece is beautifully written and I thought it worth re-posting. Good fairy tales hold warnings that are best heeded.

http://hanginggardenstories.tumblr.com/post/141841090918/a-guide-for-young-ladies-entering-the-service-of

 

Gna : Messenger of the Spirits

Norse Goddess
Name means “Towering”

‘The fourteenth is Gná; Frigg sends her on her errands. She has a horse that runs through the air and over the sea called Hoof-Tosser (Hofvarpnir). Once when she was riding, some Vanir saw her riding in the air and one said: “What is flying there, faring there and gliding through the air?”

She answers, “I fly not though I fare, gliding through the air, on Hófvarpnir whom Hamskerpir, gat with Garðrófva.”(1)

From Gná’s name it is said that anything that fares high in the air gnas.’ (from gnæfa, “towering above” ) (2)

 Who is Gna?

Messenger, errand girl for Frigga, what sort of lowly job is that for a Goddess? Certainly, pray to her if you need a letter to arrive quickly and safely, an email to be read and given consideration, or a package to reach you unscathed. If you’re running late, needing to get somewhere on time quickly and safely, she can help you find the best path through traffic. All good things, but do you not also want your prayers heard? Do you need an understandable answers from your Gods and Goddesses, with good “signal clarity” and minimal interference from your ego? She rules communication, both mundane and divine, and that is no small matter! Certainly, the other Handmaidens command great powers in granting love and healing, success and safety, clarity and learning. Yet when you need someone to hear you, understand and respond meaningfully, she is best. If you want her to carry a message, hand write it, pray to her, make an offering and then burn it. 

Not The Tree – part 4 : The Cavalry

In Alfheim, all is not as it seems.

 

Vivian took a bag out of the back of her silver SUV, printed with roses on a green background, and loosened its drawstrings. It was surprisingly colorful for someone who wore nothing but black, aside from red hair.

“What are you looking for?” I asked. We were parked at the entrance of a snow carpeted forest in the late afternoon.

“Ah, there it is.” She slipped an unusual silver ring on, it being made of three interlocking bands that could move freely. “And please Susan,” she turned to me, “don’t ask about every single thing I do. Five hundred dollars covers Melissa’s soul retrieval, not teaching you how it’s done. If you interrupt me at the wrong time things could go really badly for all of us. Okay?” Her smile seemed a bit strained, and there were dark circles under her eyes. I bit my tongue and resisted the urge to tell the young woman she needed more sleep. I’m a nurse, what can I say?

“Okay,” I answered, re-arranging my red scarf to better cover my neck and then pulled the purple beret lower onto my ears. They didn’t go together, or with my dirt stained white coat, but second-hand beggars can’t be choosers. It was also too tight, and I felt a bit like the Michelin Man.

I watched her continue to ruffle through the content of her bag, and really hoped she could do this job. Our coven had barely managed to scrape together enough to cover her fee. There would be no second try.

Not The Tree – part 3 : A Simple World

‘Better not to over-pledge, as a gift demands a gift’

I was unusually clearheaded when I woke this morning. “My name is… Shining Song?” I whispered. My bed felt like a layer of moss. Where was I ? Alfheim… I’d been journeying to find the World Tree and ended up among the elves. After delicious feasting and delirious dancing, my host Ársalf asked how I was going to repay his hospitality. Having nothing of value, I’d been working off my debt for years.

Sitting up, I looked around. I was in a tiny dark room with smooth-rounded whitish walls and ceiling, light streaming in from under a roughly woven curtain. It had taken me weeks of work to pay for that curtain! Standing, I bumped my head. Right, I had to stoop. Pulling the curtain off its two wooden pegs, I looked out the small round window. The weather was perfect, as always, golden light streaming between the leaves of our tree home. I folded the small woolen cloth, then the larger blanket that had cost two months of work.

Sighing, I swept the pile of dead leaves into a corner with my hands. Why my floor was littered with them, I had no idea. Then I dressed, tying a strip of white cloth around my breasts, a larger square around my waist as a short skirt, and ran fingers through my tangled brown hair. These were all I had here, beside the clay chamber pot and wine-jug.

Not The Tree – part 2 : A Bleak World

One does not simply walk out of Alfheim…

I knocked on the door and waited, snow crunching under my feet as I shifted, and stared at the little cardboard sign over the doorbell: “BUZER NOT WORKING, KNOCK.” Running steps were heard before a middle-aged woman with overly large glasses and short mousy hair opened the door.

“Hello!” she said, “I’m Susan, you must be Vivian Goodwin. Please come in.”

“Thank you”. As she took my coat and led me down the corridor to the small living room, I asked: “Is she here at least?”

“Oh yes, just in the bathroom, she’ll be joining us shortly. Won’t you have a seat?” she said as she gestured to the white futon. It was a poor choice of color, judging from the black cat hairs lining its edges, and from its lumpy worn-out appearance I guessed it was a hand-me-down. Fortunately, I was wearing black jeans and a black top so the fur wouldn’t show much.

Not The Tree – part 1 : A Silver World

One does not simply walk into Alfheim…

Slowly his head turned, scanning from side to side for intruders. A chore it was, but someone had to watch the Tree whose blessed branches shaded the entire city of Upspoke. Too many Outlanders relied on its magic to world-walk into Alfheim, and it was far better to appoint Guides around it than to risk letting strangers wander freely. His task was to catch them right away, escort them to whatever business they had, then make sure they left without making too much of a mess.

Ársalf[1] was not alone of course, sitting bored on a mossy rock, chin resting on his fist. No less than three Guides were stationed at all times to greet visitors, each one responsible for watching nine of the great roots. Though he ran like the wind, it took him three minutes to run all the way around the massive trunk[2]. Its base was so large it seemed like a flat wall from up close. Yet ancient as it was, the Tree of Tribes was a mere sapling compared to the mighty World Tree Yggdrasil.

A shimmer to his right caught Ársalf’s attention. At once he started toward it, purple moss squishing beneath his feet with a rising scent of lavender. The shimmer became a transparent woman whose lower-half was hidden by the giant root between them, as the visitor walked along its length toward the Tree.

He broke into a run as the shape became solid, jumping atop the waist-high root into a crouch beside the her. What little sound he made was covered by the soft music of wind chimes, thus he has a chance to inspect her unnoticed. Her blue dress and long brown hair were irrelevant, it was her aura he was interested in.

Thus he noted a light-blue life-glow extending a thumb’s width from her skin, and the usual whitish bubble around her reeking of mortality’s decay. She’s definitely human, he thought. No glamour, not a single shred of it. Have these barbarians no shame?

Lofn: Goddess of Games and Forbidden Loves

Norse Goddess
Name means “Permission”

 “The eighth is Lofn; she is so gentle and good to invoke that she has permission from All-father and Frigg to bring together men and women for whom marriage was forbidden or banned. From her name comes the word “permission”, also what is much praised by men.” UPDATED: Her name is pronounced “Loven” in Icelandic (‘fn’ is sounded ‘vn’). (1)

Take a chance. Break the rules. Find your Freedom.
Be bold. Bend your boundaries. Find your fun.

She is Goddess of forbidden loves, and little is known from lore beyond the Prose Edda quote above. She appears in many kennings for ‘woman’ in skaldic poetry (a kenning is a literary reference used to avoid repeating the same word, such as using “hammer wielder” for Thor). In modern times she is mostly prayed to for forbidden unions such as same-sex marriage and alternative relationships. She shares patronage of marriage between different ethnic groups with Frey and Gerda.

Who is Lofn?

Lofn is the most fun-loving, low-protocol, easygoing Goddess you’ll ever find in Asgard. No matter how silly the offering rite you think up, she’s cool with it. Didn’t have time to send her a formal invitation and prior offering? No problem, just let her know she’s wanted, and to show up whenever she can. No food available except delivery pizza and soft drinks? She likes those just fine. Got a silly, sexy, or irreverent card game? She loves games, invite her as a ghost player and draw cards for her. Her name means permission, and that’s what she’s all about.

Sjöfn – Friend of the Silenced Ones

Norse Goddess
Goddess of love, friendship and dolls.
Name means “Affection”

‘The seventh goddess is Sjöfn; she is much concerned with turning the minds of people, both men and women, to love. From her name love is called sjafni.’ UPDATED: Her name is pronounced “Sio-ven” in Icelandic (‘fn’ is sounded ‘vn’) and anglicized to Siovn or Sjofn. (1)

Sjöfn is among Love Goddesses the one most interested in children, not as a mother figure but as a companion. From them she receives love and offerings to this day, and to them she offers comfort in times of emotional need. When girls do tea parties with their dolls, it is she who receives the offered cookies and milk. At a children’s pic nics, she is Mr. Snuggle Bear, growling and demanding more cake and cuddles. When no one else is there to catch tears of loneliness, she is the ragged worn down plushy whose matted fur gets soaked. When a child clutches desperately to their toy, wondering why mommy hurts them, why daddy drinks, it is she who hugs them back and listens.