The fives times you refuse to give your name to a Fæ, and the one time you don't

First time

The first time he asks for your name is the first time you meet him. He appears as you walk by the færie ring, that you have not entered because your grandmother has repeated so many times not to do so, and, curious of your presence, watches as you jump when you notice him.

You recognize him instantly. It is the Fæ whose influence your village is under, the one the elders have told you and your friends to be wary about, for the people who have been seen walking away with him have never come back.

You don't know what he does to them. The villagers have never dared to confront him about it, never dare to address to him at all. He is not evil: he sometimes speaks blessings upon the cattle, talks the horses to calm after a storm, ensures a good harvest for the farmers, makes the flowers bloom in spring even when the weather is still too cold. He is, simply, a Fæ, whose ways humans cannot understand.

"Hello, little one," he says as you stand very still, back straight, hands fidgeting with the fabric of your skirt.

You do not go away – you cannot. This, your grandmother has taught you, would be considered as an offense, and you could be cursed, or he could take out his wrath onto the village. You do not shy away from his stare, however, even not knowing if this will displease him or not. You are eight, have the courage and the recklessness of your childhood innocence, the boldness of those who have not yet learnt how to fear; but you have been warned against the Fæs, who like to toy with humans and play tricks upon them, so you do not defy him either.

He walks up to you. You pray he will stay in the færie ring, as it feels like a protection, and fortunately, he does. He isn't too malicious to the youngest ones, you have been told once - just do not know if this is true or not. You knew a girl your age called Nimia, that has been caught a year ago, and she has never come back to the village, and her parents have cried all week cursing the Fæ.

You summon to your memory everything your grandmother has taught you to ward off Fæs, and protect yourself against their tricks. You do not want to be the next Nimia.

He introduces himself as Áed, although you suspect it is merely a nickname. Then, holding out a hand, he asks, "And your name, please?"

There is your grandmother's warning at the back of your head: names give power over people. The Fæ is asking you to literally give him your name, and who knows what he'll do with it – he might as well use it to take you away, like he surely did to Nimia. To all the people who have never been seen again. To your own mother, two years after you were born, even though she was too clever to be caught by a Fæ's trick.

So you remain quiet, watching him with wide eyes, until his own stare darkens, and he shakes his hand under your nose.

"Your name, little one."

You pull yourself together. He might curse you if you don't answer. You gather your courage, and, with the spontaneity of children who have freedom in their veins and do not bend to rules, you stretch out your hand back without touching his.

"I am sorry, lord Fæ. I haven't heard you very well. Can you give me your name, please?"

He looks at you with surprised amusement. "Oh, well played, little one. You're clever. Just for this one, I will let you go."

He retreats his hand, and you scramble back as quickly as you can, bowing to him clumsily before taking your leave.

You had passed by the færie ring to go the wishing well, even though the elders forbid the youth its access, disobedient little child that you are. You just wanted to wish for your father to let you wear your mother's necklace – 'not yet', he always says, 'when you are thirteen'. You forget about going there, after this encounter. You go back home, and your grandmother scolds you for having been gone for so long.

You do not tell her about the Fæ. She has already lost her daughter to him. If she knew he had tried to lure you, you would not be able to leave the house again – and you value your freedom too much for that.