Chapter Text
I was pouring cider into my medium-sized cauldron when Elliott entered the farmhouse. It was the sixth day of Starwynd, the candles were already lit around my living room and kitchen, and the sweet yet powerful smell of cinnamon filled the air. He hung his coat and scarf before walking over to me, sniffing the air as he approached.
“Hey, Ellie,” I flirted.
He put an arm around my waist, “What are you making?”
I added more cinnamon and ginger. “Wassail. It’s not done yet though.”
“Can I try anyway?”
I chuckled and handed him a spoon, “It’ll be a bit bitter. I haven’t added the sugar yet,” I grinned, “or the bourbon.”
I knew it would taste terrible before I was finished with it, but I did warn him. Besides, part of me wanted to see him try it anyway.
Elliott took a sip and made a face, “You weren’t lying, darling, but I can taste the… broadness of the… flavors. Starwynd has some interesting refreshments, I’ll give you mages that!”
“Well, we’re only consuming a couple of cups of this.”
His face fell in disappointment, “What? What do you mean, darling? I was preparing to slurp down half this cauldron like I do with Gus’s pumpkin ale!”
“El, I love you, but no. As fun as that would be…”
“But why, dearest?” Elliott took a pleading tone that only I could bring out from him as he took my hands in his. I had never seen a selkie beg in human form, but he was quite adorable. Despite this, I stuck to my original plan.
“Because we have to do something important, El. We have to sing to the trees tonight.”
Elliott’s eye twitched. He looked at me as if I was crazy. With a giggle, I added the sugar and began stirring constantly, “You can’t honestly tell me your selkie traditions are more casual! I know your entire culture is based on magic like mine is! I’ll explain when the wassail is done in a minute. You can help me, though!”
I poured a cup for each of us and added bourbon to the drinks. We toasted and drank, the sweet flavor exploding across my tongue and the alcohol warming my throat. After three drinks each, we were both moderately tipsy. Secretly, I slipped two kazoos into my back pocket. Not so secretly, I handed Elliott a loaf of bread. I then grabbed two ladles and took the cauldron by the handle, setting it by the door as I laced up my snow boots and wrapped my scarf around myself. Elliott gave me a quizzical look before following suit and holding the front door for me.
Our breaths fogged in the cold air, but he was warm when I pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was dark outside, but the warmth in my stomach from the bourbon helped me feel lighter and almost giddy as I skipped to my orchard.
“So,” I explained as we walked, “We’re going to water the trees. Sort of. And sing to them to scare away any bad spirits while encouraging good spirits to stay here! Watch me try it.”
I set the cauldron next to my best apple tree and began singing, “Here’s to thee, Old apple tree
That blooms well, bears well
Hats full, caps full
Three bushel bags full
And all under one tree
Hooray, hurrah!”
I poured a ladle full of wassail onto the roots of the tree and Elliott followed suit. I then broke a piece of bread off of the loaf Elliott was holding and laid it at the roots.
He laughed, “What an odd tradition, but I suppose some of the Feast traditions aren’t too much better. However, I don’t know that song yet.”
“I have another one you might know! We’ll sing and make noise again at the end.”
I ladled wassail onto the roots of the next tree, a peach tree. We chattered and poured the wassail and broke bread for about an hour until every tree was properly nourished. Elliott glanced longingly at the pomegranate trees, only a few weeks out of season for bearing fruit.
“You ready to sing with me, El?”
He looked anxious for a moment but still nodded. I began to sing, “Here we come a-wassailing / Among the leaves of green”
Elliott’s eyes widened with recognition as I sang and he took my hand, joining me, “Here we come a-wandering / So fair to be seen”
“Love and joy come to you
And to you your wassail too
And gods bless you and send you a happy New Year
And gods send you a happy New Year”
I tossed him a kazoo but in my tipsy state, he had to jump to catch it. I began playing the song on my own kazoo and he laughed, dancing with clumsy kicks and head nods in his own tipsiness. He joined my kazooing, attempting to play louder than me but failing. The Junimos began to peek out of the bushes surrounding my farm and moved cautiously towards us. Elliott spun and glanced at me before gasping at the Junimos that joined us, dancing with us in the middle of the orchard.
“Darling, I think they enjoy the wassail! And I have to say, this extra love makes a difference. I prefer the pomegranates from your farm since they always taste so fresh and wonderful, and I miss them dearly already.”
“Why didn’t you just say so, El?”
I walked to the nearest pomegranate tree and cast a spell. One of the smaller branches grew a single pomegranate and dropped it into my hand. I tossed it to Elliott who caught it with ease this time.
He beamed as he set it next to the cauldron, “Have you ever considered adding pomegranates to your wassail, darling?”
“No, but we can definitely do that next year!”
He laughed, took one of my hands, and put his other hand on my waist, twirling me as the Junimos danced around my orchard. Despite the alcohol, he was far more steady on his feet than he appeared and it was obvious that the confidence and grace came from years of experience. I made a mental note to ask him later.
I smiled, “If these are the good spirits staying here, I feel far more at ease. I’ve never seen spirits visibly appear during this.”
He picked up the pomegranate and the cauldron and led me inside, half joking. “It was the kazoos, darling. For now, let’s finish this wassail and put a sizeable dent in a different type of spirits if you know what I mean…”
I giggled as he closed the door, insulating us from the cold and dark once more. “Alright, El, but don’t drink all of my bourbon.”