Freezings Greetings

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​Filthy Henry stepped out of his small yurt into the cool, crisp, December night air and shivered. It was colder than a room full of jilted ex-lovers staring at you while they decided how to dispose of your body.  He took a deep breath and exhaled a mist so thick it would have made Smaug himself jealous.

 

Turning up the collar of his trench-coat, he glanced over his shoulder at the warm, inviting, interior of his temporary home and sighed.

 

Being Ireland’s first and foremost fairy detective meant Filthy Henry had a few tricks up his sleeve when it came to camping in the dead of winter, away from the creature comforts society so relished these days. For starters he had the ability to cast magic, which allowed the inside of his yurt to be kept at tropical temperatures without need for any fires or heaters. The only problem with this was it made stepping out into the air more of a shock to the system. Keeping a heating spell running in a confined area such as the yurt required very little magic, but it was not a spell that Filthy Henry could continue to enjoy once outside. It needed boundaries to work. In theory, the fairy detective could have cast the spell outside, but climate change was a big enough problem without Filthy Henry trying to adjust the local temperature for himself and melting a few Polar icecaps in the process.

 

He stuffed his hands deep into his coat pockets and looked about.

 

Filthy Henry had been in his yurt since a little before lunchtime, taking a nap soon after eating to prepare for the activities of the night. During that time it seemed that Ireland had had one of the heaviest snowfalls ever recorded. The entire area was covered in a thick blanket of fresh, unbroken, snow. It was picturesque if that was your sort of thing. He merely nodded in appreciation of how nature worked and then turned to stare at Newgrange.

 

According to legend the monument had been constructed as a burial mound to honour Dagda, Chief of the Celtic Gods. Filthy Henry always liked this story for two reasons. The first being that Dagda was not actually dead, after all Gods never really died, they just went out of fashion. Secondly, the fairy detective knew that deep down Dagda hated the structure because mortals had long discussed the shape of it and likened it to the Gods body. Which, effectively, meant everyone thought Dagda was overweight.

 

Which he was, as Gods went. Very overweight.

 

What was noteworthy about the monument, however, was that at sunrise on the 21st of December a miracle of human ingenuity took place. A beam of light from the sun would shine through a small window set in the wall of Newgrange and then travel down a corridor to illuminate a central chamber. A sight to behold and one which people would put their names on a very long list just to secure a chance at seeing such a wonder. The only problem being that in Ireland it was overcast nearly ninety percent of the year, so the chances of the weather not ruining such a spectacle were so rare that you would have better luck catching a Leprechaun and stealing their pot of gold.

 

A tourist attraction and ancient weather clock all rolled into one.

 

Filthy Henry could see the gigantic structure, also covered in snow, and smiled. Made by mortals with the limited technologies of their time and yet still impressive.

 

He checked the time on his watch, quickly returning his hand to the warmth of his coat pocket. It was late enough in the night that you would be forgiven for almost considering it early morning. As the moon continued to rise above the treeline, Filthy Henry started marching away from the yurt in a straight line.

 

The fairy detective silently cursed the Celestial bodies that had aligned for the first time in five-hundred years as some snow got into his left shoe and began to cool his foot. Why these magical convergences could not happen in the summer, on some beach, with a five-star hotel right beside it was anyone’s guess. It was almost as if The Powers that governed the universe liked for their heroes to suffer with cold weather and horrible accommodation as if that made them truly understand what it meant to be a hero.

 

Whoever decided that heroes had to suffer to be heroes had to secretly work for the villains. It was the only thing that made sense.

 

The moon fully cleared the treeline and a shaft of pale moonlight came down, hitting the unbroken snow a few feet in front of the fairy detective.  Filthy Henry stopped walking and watched the beam of light as the magic began.

 

Some of the snow began to swirl around in a circle, despite the fact there was not even a breeze to be felt. Faster and faster the flakes moved, each rotation moving up into the air so that another ring of flakes could form. In a matter of seconds, a six-foot high column swirled and spiralled before the fairy detective. The moonlight defied the laws of physics and curved slightly, filling the centre of the column, and began to glow ever so faintly. Soon the entire column was pulsing with white light, while the snowflakes spun faster and faster.

 

Filthy Henry could hear a faint sound coming from within the light, almost like a hum. It changed pitched, veering towards a painful noise.

 

“Come on already,” he said to the spiralling snow. “Do you think I enjoy getting frostbite?”

 

There was a loud clap and the floating snowflakes shot out in every direction, some of them landing on Filthy Henry’s face and causing him to close his eyes. He brought out his right hand from the warmth of his coat pocket and wiped his face clean.

 

“Refreshing way to say hello,” Filthy Henry said.

 

“A mortal, come to greet me after all this time?”

 

The fairy detective opened his eyes and looked at the being standing in front of him.

 

Of all the cases Filthy Henry had worked it was nice every so often to meet a new creature that was a little bit different. After all, once you had seen one leprechaun you pretty much seen them all. But this creature was something new, different.

 

Standing at roughly six feet, the creature was humanoid in shape and entirely made from what looked like frosted glass. Arms, legs, head, and body all glittering in the moonlight and nearly transparent. In place of hair it had spikes, although as Filthy Henry gave it a little more thought they could also have been icicles. Its chin came to a sharp point and two piercing blue eyes stared back at the fairy detective.

 

“Not exactly the welcome committee,” Filthy Henry said. “I suppose you could consider me more like a bouncer.”

 

“A bouncer?” the creature asked, tilting its head to the side. “I’m not sure you understand what’s going on here mortal.”

 

“Probably should explain first, I’m not a mortal” the fairy detective said, smiling. “I’m Filthy Henry.”

 

“The half-breed,” the creature hissed, its breath misting. “Interesting. I thought you were a legend used to scare bold pixies into sleeping at night for their parents.”

 

“Yeah, I get that a lot. But I’m touched that you heard about me even in your Realm.”

 

The creature raised its hand into the air and pointed at the moon.

 

“I live on the moon, I see all,” it said.

 

“Listen, Frosty. Can I call you ‘Frosty’?”

 

“No, my name is…”

 

“As I was saying, Frosty,” Filthy Henry continued. “I know you’re not the man in the moon. So, don’t even try and convince me otherwise. All you are is some Solstice Spirit that can only cross over into this Realm when a several events happen to line up. Such as moonlight landing on unbroken snow behind Newgrange.”

 

The creature’s mouth opened a little, then closed again.

 

“Fine,” it said. “You figured that out on your own?”

 

Filthy Henry shook his head.

 

“I’m pretty good at guessing,” he said. “You’ll learn that about me, Frosty. Now, how about we all just agree that this was a lovely chat and you bugger off back to whatever Winter Wasteland Realm you’ve come from so I can go home and enjoy my bed.”

 

Frosty chuckled, spreading its arms wide and turning slowly around on the spot.

 

“Why would I return when I am finally getting what has been due to me since Time itself began? Even if you are a half-breed, I doubt you will be able to stop me.”

 

“Are you a betting fairy, Frosty?”

 

“I told you not to call me that,” Frosty said, dropping its arms down and turning sharply to stare at the fairy detective. “The last mortal who tested me…”

 

“Is buried under that big mound of stones over there,” Filthy Henry said, pointing towards Newgrange.

 

Frosty’s snowy eyebrows rose in surprise.

 

“How could you possibly know that!”

 

“One thing I know about humans is they build big monuments for specific reasons. I’d wager, since I’m a betting man, that whoever figured out how to stop you the first time earned themselves a big monument.”

 

A cloud passed briefly in front of the moon, dimming the light that shone down onto the snowy field. For a moment Frosty’s entire body took on a strange, grey, hue that reminded Filthy Henry of how leaves looked when stuck in a gutter and mixed with dirt. It made him wonder if the creature was even here in its true form or merely one that it had the power to conjure while it tried to cross over permanently.

 

That was the thing about dealing with the fairy world, a fact that all the stories failed to mention so that mortals never learned the truth. A race of magical beings with control over the very fabric of nature, they could present themselves however they wanted to mortal eyes and nobody would know any different.

 

Unless you happened to be a half-fairy, like Filthy Henry. Then you could bring in a little bit of magic and see the world the way it really was meant to be viewed. He concentrated and turned on what he referred to as his fairy vision, his second sight that allowed him to see in the magical spectrum. It removed the veil between the mortal and fairy worlds. Looking at Frosty, Filthy Henry was surprised to see that his form did not change all that much. Instead of ice and frost, the creature was just blue and white lines of energy, like lightning trapped in a glass container.

 

“Well that’s…refreshing, I guess,” the fairy detective said to himself.

 

“We should begin the parley,” Frost said, gesturing to its left with a slow move of its hand.

 

The snow began to swirl in three circles, each rising into the air and pulling more and more flakes in with each rotation. They formed three small mounds before settling, the last of the flakes floating down to land on top of each pile like a leaf. When all snowy movement had ceased the mounds melted away, revealing two chairs and a table made completely out of ice underneath.

 

Frosty walked over to one chair, pulled it back from the table a little, then sat down. It nodded towards the other chair.

 

Filthy Henry took the hint but, once again, wondered why these types of events never happened with a sofa monster or bed demon. Sitting on a chair made from ice, out in the dead of winter, was going to bring on no end of chilblains in the buttock region.

 

The hero always had to suffer.

 

He walked over, bunching up some of his trench-coat to sit on like a cushion, then sat down across from Frosty.

 

“Parley, you said.”

 

Frosty nodded its head and crossed its arms, the faint sound of ice tinkling against ice accompanying the movement. It was like talking with a whiskey glass, minus the fun of drinking whiskey.

 

“You see, everyone always thinks these things have to be settled by battles to the death and maybe even a little Apocalypse for good measure. But that is for fairies who do not plan correctly. We can handle this like civilised beings, mortal to fairy.”

 

“Half-mortal,” Filthy Henry reminded Frosty.

 

The creature made a dismissive wave with its hand.

 

“Yes, yes. I’m genuinely surprised you’ve survived this long. I thought there were Rules put in place to stop abominations such as you.”

 

It was refreshing to know that even a fairy who only managed to step across into the mortal world once every couple of hundred years could be a little bit specist. Which the fairy detective knew was a poor amalgamation of the words ‘species’ and ‘racist’ but he was not an English professor for a reason.

 

“So, what mad, insane, mortal destroying thing do you want so we can complete this parley? Which I’m guessing will involve me having to say ‘no’ a bunch of times until you see reason and go back to your Frozen theme park of a Realm.”

 

“You’re fairly mouthy for somebody who is on the losing side of the argument,” Frosty said.

 

Filthy Henry smiled.

 

It was always the same with these power infused nutters who thought they could just take over the world. They thought being able to conjure things out of thin air or levitate made them somehow impressive. Like mankind was still swinging through the trees and wondering why the hot bright things that fell from the sky in flashes of lightning burned if you touched them. Fairy folk loved to think that magical powers alone made them better than mortals, when often all those powers did was make the fairies ignore the ingenuity of humanity.

 

This was the key to how the fairy detective solved all his cases. Being the only one in the equation who was over-confident. So far it had never failed.

 

But there was always a first time for everything.

 

He let out a misty breath. It hung between them for several seconds before floating away.

 

“Here’s how I reckon this conversation should go,” Filthy Henry said, ignoring Frosty’s previous comment entirely. “We can have a bit of back and forth, friendly banter, that sort of thing. Then you eventually realise who I am, beyond being the only half-breed in the village, and go back into your little moonbeam so that I don’t have to deal with you using my vast magical array of spells and whatnot.”

 

“Whatnot?” Frosty asked, clearly confused.

 

The creature held out its right hand and wiggled its fingers. Around them the snow started to swirl.

 

So far, swirling snow and conjuring icy furniture were the only tricks in Frosty’s bag. It was going to be like taking candy from a kid on Halloween, only a few weeks later in the year.

 

Then Frosty made a quick gesture and the swirling snow formed into a spear of ice. It lifted off the ground and flew towards Filthy Henry’s head. He had just enough time to fall backwards, toppling his chair, and crash into the snowy ground to avoid being impaled. The ice spear sailed harmlessly overhead

 

It seemed Frosty had a few other tricks up its frozen arms.

 

“Right,” the fairy detective said, standing up and righting his chair. “It appears I should be approaching this a little differently.”

 

“Here’s how it is going to go,” Frosty said. “For the first time in over five thousand years the full moon has shone down one hundred percent of its light on this stretch of hallowed ground on the night of December 20th. Which is how mortals track time for some reason. Anyway, that much moonlight has allowed me to step across the barrier between worlds at full strength. I’d be able to take on Dagda himself…if he were here right now.”

 

The creature took a quick check around them, then nodded in clear relief that Dagda had not suddenly appeared beside them.

 

If he was being brutally honest, Filthy Henry was glad that the God had not shown up right then either.

 

Frosty’s declaration of being at ‘full power’ was a little worrying, however. Filthy Henry had stumbled upon this little spiritual visit by complete accident after reading a tome in The Druid Stone, Dublin’s premier and only magical supply shop, earlier in the week. He had been in collecting something that had been on backorder for months and absentmindedly flicked through the pages of a book while waiting. In typical shop owner fashion Dru the Druid, owner of the store, had made the fairy detective purchase the book as well as the item he had ordered. Claiming that the pages had been scuffed so badly there was no way it could be sold to anyone else.

 

Something had told Filthy Henry that despite the clear attempt at blackmail, the book did have to come home with him so that he could research the Winter Solstice further. Everyone knew that sunlight played a huge part in the solstice, because Newgrange had that chamber ready to receive the light of the sun in the morning. But the book mentioned that Frosty appeared each year as well, albeit without mentioning the creature could have differing power levels on each visit.

 

After researching it, Filthy Henry worked out that the visits only ever happened when there was a moon on the night of December 20th. A full moon on that night was, as highlighted by Frosty, something of a once in a few millennia event.

 

“Just my luck,” the fairy detective said to himself. “I get involved the one time I’m going to be magically outgunned.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Frosty said, leaning forward slightly in its chair. “Did you say something.”

 

“No,” Filthy Henry replied. “I was muttering to myself. So, enlighten me. What happens here exactly if we don’t come to some arrangement that doesn’t see you returning from whence you came?”

 

Frosty smiled, showing perfectly pointed teeth that glistened in the moonlight. Its cold blue eyes seemed to sparkly, even growing brighter.

 

“The world will be covered in snow and ice forever more. Humanity will be frozen out of existence, an existence they have been lucky to have this long. Look at what your people have done to the world! Death and destruction of nature on a global scale, not to mention that it is getting hotter with each passing day. I’m amazed there was any snow here at all for the portal to open on. You have one planet and you all have done your best to destroy it without having a backup to move to. I’ll cool it down quickly, erase the scourge that is mankind and then allow the world to heal itself properly.”

 

“But that will cause the fairy folk to be wiped out as well. A winter that never ends with a cold like you are talking about is something even magical creatures will have trouble surviving. You’re talking about multiple genocides…for what?”

 

Frosty jumped out of its chair and slammed a fist down so hard on the table that it caused the ice to crack.

 

“For what? I was cast out. Exiled! Without being given a fair trial or even asked to pay for my crimes. I have spent centuries plotting what I would do when I returned. Just because people don’t agree with how you want to save the world, doesn’t mean your approach is wrong. The world is screaming in pain and yet you, human and fairy, do nothing to make it better. You fight, your petty squabbles that are as insignificant as the ant is to the boot, for what? To be slightly better than somebody. You should have banded together to fix this world, make it last forever. I had a plan. Yes, it would have killed about twenty percent of the population. But sacrifices must be made, and it takes a cold will to live with those choices. Now? Now I’m going to just ramp up my plan by a factor of five and ensure that this world isn’t burned to a crisp by the hubris of everyone who sought to punish me.”

 

Filthy Henry took a deep breath and leaned back on his seat, staring up into Frosty’s blue eyes.

 

What he said next was extremely important. The consequences of failure were clear, complete and utter destruction of life as everyone knew it. That was a heavy thing to have on your conscience, even if your conscience’s days were numbered. Saying the wrong thing now would no doubt speed up the Icemageddon Frosty planned.

 

“Well,” Filthy Henry said, slowly shaking his head. “If that isn’t the most overused plot device since that purple dude in all them comic book movies.”

 

Frosty frowned, its mouth dropping open in surprise.

 

“What?”

 

“You know. The bejazzled glove. The epic battle. ‘I. Am. The Dark Knight.’. It’s been done, mate. You need a new idea.”

 

The creature slowly sat back down and stared at Filthy Henry in what could only be described as complete and utter confusion. Even for a being made entirely from ice, frost, and snow.

 

“Are you implying that my plans for this sordid world are … passé?”

 

Filthy Henry scrunched up his face for added comedic effect, brought up his shoulders, and shook his head a few times in agreement.

 

It might have been cold out in the field, but the fairy detective found himself enjoying this little exchange immensely. The magical misfit before him had clearly expected to either walk into this Realm unopposed or find itself dealing with yet another mortal who happened to get lucky.

 

The fairy detective glanced briefly at his watch, then looked back up at Frosty.

 

“I’m sorry, have you other plans that I’m keeping you from?”

 

“Not at all,” Filthy Henry said. “I’m just wondering if everything is going along according to my plan.”

 

“According to plan? Whose plan, yours or mine?”

 

Filthy Henry frowned.

 

“Well I am hardly going to wonder if everything is going according to your plan. You want to wipe out the world like a CGI laden movie. I want to stop you from doing that, which is part of my plan. We’re at an impasse of passé proportions.”

 

Frosty chuckled.

 

“Word play, that’s what you’re bringing to the table?”

 

The fairy detective spotted some movement off to the right, behind Frosty’s back. A shadowy figure walking towards their table from the direction of Newgrange. They were shuffling through the snow, hood drawn up and over so that it obscured their face. As they stepped into the moonlight Filthy Henry could see that the new arrival was carrying something before them, held up with their hands like an offering.

 

The shadowy figure’s footsteps crunched on the snow as they came closer, catching Frosty’s attention. Shifting ever so slightly on their chair, the creature gestured towards the hooded person and conjured several icicles in the air. Each with extremely sharp points, all aimed at various body parts of the hooded figured.

 

“Who dares!” Frosty snarled.

 

“Forgive me,” the hooded figure said, stopping mid-step. “I’m just a humble druid, out here doing my druidic things. Please don’t impale me with your icicles.”

 

Frosty swiped the air with a downward gesture, sending the icicles of death shooting into the ground. The landed with a thud in the snow, forming a little line before the druid’s feet.

 

“We’re conducting business,” Frosty said, turning around and dismissing the druid with a wave of his hand. “Do your nature communing elsewhere. Quietly.”

 

“I would,” the druid said. “But I’m here to see…him.”

 

The last word was practically spat in Filthy Henry’s direction. Not that he expected any less. When people tried to get one up on him, making him purchase books that could easily have been sold to somebody else even with a scuffed page or two, all it took was a little magic to get payback.

 

Payback weighted very much in the fairy detective’s favour.

 

“Dru,” he said, smiling. “Glad you could make it.”

 

Dru the Druid pulled down his hood, revealing his bald head to the cool night air. Bald head and insanely bright red, bulbous nose. A nose that glowed so bright it could have been used to guide a jolly fat man and his small herd of gravity defying deer through a dark and stormy night.

 

“Filthy,” Dru said. “Nice job with the nose. The note gave precise instructions, which I’ve followed. Can you get rid of this bloody thing now?”

 

Frosty turned back and looked at the druid, frowning.

 

“You did this to him? Your fellow mortal?”

 

The fairy detective nodded, laughing slightly.

 

“I have to say, that’s strange,” Frosty said. “Don’t your kind generally stick together. Maybe you’re more fairy than human after all, half-breed.”

 

“You must be new here,” Dru the Druid said to Frosty. “Filthy is generally a bastard to everyone he interacts with. It’s like his defining characteristic. Just as you can be sure the sun will rise in the morning; you can bet your last frozen penny that the fairy detective is going to treat people like dirt.”

 

Filthy Henry chuckled, then clicked his fingers at Frosty.

 

“A chair, for my friend,” he said, gesturing at the empty plot of snow beside him.

 

Frosty turned back in its seat, leaned across the table, and narrowed its eyes so that they were two tiny pin pricks of piercing blue staring into the fairy detective’s very soul. If he had not already been sitting on a chair of ice, which Filthy Henry knew had numbed his bottom to the point there was no feeling there anymore, he would have gotten chilled by the stare.

 

Shifting a little on his seat to get some feeling back in his posturer, Filthy Henry summoned up some of his own magic and conjured up a seat for his druid friend. Given that the fairy detective was a half-breed, his magical abilities were somewhat on the limited side when compared to the other fairy beings of the world. Where Frosty was able to create ornate chairs made of ice with intricate little details on them, Filthy Henry could conjure up a block of ice with a groove in the top for comfort.

 

A block that, if it had not already been freezing weather conditions, would have probably started melting.

 

“The curse of being a half-breed,” Filthy Henry said, pointing at the block of ice. “Pull up a pew, Dru.”

 

“I really wish you wouldn’t rhyme my name when we’re doing these crazy little adventures,” the druid said as he walked over and sat down at the table. “Dagda above that’s cold.”

 

Frosty sat back in its seat, crossed its arms, and stared at the pair of them.

 

“I don’t fully understand what he is doing here,” the creature said, indicating Dru with a head nod. “This is a matter to be solved by the Champion of this world, which just so happens to be you and not him.”

 

“Can I just have my nose changed back?” Dru the Druid asked Filthy Henry.

 

“No, now sit there and be quiet while I save the world.”

 

“Save the world?” Frosty asked. “You seem pretty sure of yourself considering we still haven’t even gotten to the parley part of this little sit down.”

 

“Oh, that bit we can skip,” Filthy Henry said. “You’re here to bring about a second Ice Age that wipes out all life on Earth, right before Christmas. Which, even by evil fairy creature standards is harsh. I am here to stop that from happening. A parley just puts this out for another hundred years or so until the next time you drop by. I don’t know if I will be around then to stop you, so that means stopping you here and now.”

 

Frosty held out its right hand, wiggle the icicles it called fingers, and started to create a little swirling snowstorm in the palm of its hand.

 

“You want to go toe-to-toe with me, half-breed?”

 

Filthy Henry held up his right hand and snapped his fingers, instantly conjuring a fireball in his hand. He idly tossed it up and down, like a tennis ball that had been set on fire by some bored teenagers.

 

“I think I can handle myself,” the fairy detective said. “But I do want to remind you of a few things. For example, tomorrow morning is the winter solstice. The sun will shine and beam into that monument over there. It’s a magical time. As magical as some of the mortal traditions around this time of year. Such as the one involving a guest bringing a Yule log to a person’s land. So magical.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Frosty asked.

 

“See that fancy tent back there? My yurt?”

 

Frosty leaned to the left, looked at the fairy detective’s yurt, and nodded.

 

“I’ve been living in that for the last week. It is magically enchanted with two very fascinating spells. One of them is a heat spell, which is why this lovely seasonal snowy weather wasn’t that big a deal for me. The other is a little bit more…interesting. Not to mention very complex, I’m not even sure why the spell exists in the first place. But it’s been running for a week as well.”

 

“What’s the other spell, exactly?” Dru asked, clearly getting drawn into the story Filthy Henry was telling.

 

“It is a reverse memory spell that stretches back thirty years. Not time travel in the true sense of the word, rather a spell that makes it seem like that yurt over there has been in that same spot for thirty years. Altering the memories of anyone you ask and even documents and photos about the area.”

 

Frosty continued creating his mini snowstorm but looked at the fairy detective very confused.

 

“I don’t follow,” it said. “The last time I had to do battle. There was magic in the air, swords being spun around, somebody brought an enchanted shield. It was an entire spectacle for the ages. Are we not doing that?”

 

“We could do,” Filthy Henry said. “But see, I’m a reader me. Love reading. The pen is mightier than the sword, assuming the pen is made from a nuclear warhead or something I’d agree. But when it comes down to brains versus brawns, I tend to find that brains win every time. Unless you’re dealing with zombies, then you basically need to be sure you’ve kept your cardio up. Unless we’re talking about fast zombies, which if I am being brutally honest has spoiled the genre a little for me. I mean…”

 

“Does he always do this?” Frosty asked Dru.

 

“Yep,” the druid replied. “I’m never entirely sure if there is a point to the whole rambling or if he is just stalling for time until he comes up with a plan. Sometimes I reckon it is purely because he likes the sound of his own voice.”

 

“Oh, I do,” Filthy Henry said, smiling at them both and swirling his fireball around before him. “I really do. But this time I’m just letting time run out a little bit. I need it for the big reveal at sunrise.”

 

“Sunrise?” Frosty asked, briefly glancing at the horizon.

 

Its eyes opened wide at the sight. There, just barely visible, was a thin line of red light. Pushing back the darkness like strawberry syrup being poured over double chocolate ice cream. Frosty looked back at the fairy detective, clearly unsettled by recent developments.

 

“We have to battle. Now! It is imperative. I can’t go back. I can’t wait another year in that place. But the battle must take place before sunrise…you knew that already. Didn’t you!”

 

“I did,” Filthy Henry said with a curt nod of his head. “But, as I said, I love to read. So, let me explain how this is all going to go down. Rudolph the Red-nose druid here has brought a Yule log to my land, which as we’ve established is legally binding because I’ve had a little spell making it look like I’ve been squatting here for thirty years and not just a week. Dru, what does that mean?”

 

Dru frowned, then shook his head.

 

“Ever the student of local law,” the fairy detective said. “It means that, technically, I am the landlord over of this place. I have invited a guest here on the morning of December twenty-first and as is the tradition the last guest to arrive has brought the Yule log.”

 

“It’s a cake,” Frosty said, pointing at the delicious delicacy in the druid’s hands. “Also, he was the only guest you invited so that makes him the last on nothing more than a technicality.”

 

“Correct,” Filthy Henry said. “But you’ll find I do really well on technicalities. Anyway, as is tradition we will set fire to mark the end of the shortest day of the year and bring in the dawn of the next.”

 

“Set fire to it?” Dru asked, clearly shocked. “I spent the best part of the day baking this thing.”

 

“For a worthy cause,” the fairy detective said. “Besides, I told you it could have just been a decorated log. You never listen, that’s on you.”

 

“I was slightly distracted by the fact my nose looked like a hive of bees had stung it with LED enhanced venom.”

 

Frosty was looking very uncomfortable now. It stood up quickly, knocking over its chair of ice, and brought the little snowstorm up over its head. Raising its other hand, the creature began to channel more magical energies into the spell and stared down at Filthy Henry.

 

“I will not be bested by the likes of you, half-breed,” it shouted. “I have survived for millennia and my time of return is at hand. You will be the first to die, knowing you have failed.”

 

Slowly, without evening breaking eye contact, the fairy detective raised up his left hand and pointed at the rising sun with his index finger. He slowly started to twirl it around in the air, a little trail of blue magical energy forming a circle in the wake of the movement.

 

“Ciorcal gloine,” Filthy Henry said.

 

In the blink of an enchanted eye a little disc of glass appeared, floating in the air. Right then sunlight fully broke over the horizon, sending a beam of light racing across the land. It hit the glass, magnifying and intensifying after passing through it, then striking the cake in the druid’s hands.

 

The festive dessert went up quicker than an illegal bonfire on Halloween night. A rush of flames that caused a small mushroom cloud to appear as Dru shrieked in surprise, throwing the flaming Yule log onto the ice table. It bounced onto the table, sliding along the frozen surface, before stopping and twirling around on the spot.

 

Frosty, still working on its spell, looked down at the Yule log utterly unimpressed.

 

“I was expecting more,” the creature said.

 

“Oh, I’m not finished yet,” Filthy Henry said, launching his fireball in the direction of Newgrange.

 

They all watched as the flaming sphere raced across the air, heading towards the small little window in the side of the ancient monument. It smashed into the gap, burning away any snow, dirt and plant life that clogged the opening, right as the ray of morning sun from Filthy Henry’s magical magnifying glass hit the exact same spot.

 

From within the monument came a chorus of amazed ‘ooh’s and impressed ‘ahh’s. The lucky few people who had managed to secure a golden ticket so they could see the sunrise light up the sun chamber. For the first time in several years, helped in no small part by Filthy Henry, the sun had arrived and dazzled the crowd.

 

“Now I’m finished,” the fairy detective said, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms.

 

Frosty’s spell instantly vanished, the creature stumbling forward as if it had been struck in the chest.

 

“What have you done?” it asked, its voice hoarse.

 

“A number of things,” Filthy Henry said. “First of, I correctly ended the Winter Solstice celebrations by setting fire to the Yule log, brought by the final guest to my land, and thus signalling the end of night and welcoming in longer days for the rest of the year. Stylishly done with a little ray of sunshine, just in case anyone missed that. Then I cleared away any dirt and junk in the window so that Newgrange got lit up. By that same ray of light, opening a little portal of my own. I mean talk about a trick shot.”

 

“But…how is this…” Frosty said, holding up its left hand.

 

It had started to break apart, little fragments drifting away like flakes of snow.

 

“Oh, you. Yeah. See the bit the last guy didn’t know is that defeating you in combat is actually what you want. It means that you die and can slink away back into your Realm for recuperation and plotting. I, on the other hand, did the research. Completing the celebrations means that I can banish you.”

 

“Banish…me?” Frosty asked. “That just means you defeated me in a non-combative way. I will…return.”

 

Dru the Druid leaned over in his chair so that he was closer to the fairy detective.

 

“It does sound like you’ve sort of just done the same thing as the last guy.”

 

Filthy Henry flashed them both his most annoying smile.

 

“Oh, that’s the bit about being the one who can do the banishing. I can choose the where.”

 

Frosty watched as its entire left hand disappeared in a flurry of snowflakes, then looked in what Filthy Henry guessed was a frozen expression of fear.

 

“What?”

 

The fairy detective clicked his fingers three times, then pointed towards Newgrange.

 

“As the sun washes over the land, its energies will carry your wretched essence through that very tiny window over there into the sun chamber of Newgrange. Were you will reside forever until you can figure out a way of defeating him.”

 

“Him?” Dru and Frosty both asked at the same time.

 

“Him,” the fairy detective repeated, nodding towards Newgrange.

 

Everyone turned again to look at the ancient monument and saw the golden figure standing outside the sun chamber window. They were made from pure energy, but the glowing silhouette seemed to have a sword, shield, and kilt. It raised the sword, pointing it at Frosty, then made a slicing motion in the air.

 

“Toodles,” Filthy Henry said, waving farewell.

 

A beam of bright light shot out from the tip of the sword and wrapped itself around Frosty like a lasso. Three loops pulled tight around the creature, before it was yanked towards Newgrange. Dru and Filthy Henry watched as Frosty flew through the air, shrinking with each passing second, before it and the glowing warrior completely disappeared from sight.

 

The druid slowly began to nod his head.

 

“I’m…impressed,” he said. “Like defeating that thing without fighting was good but figuring out how to stop it coming back.”

 

“I know, right,” Filthy Henry said. “There is no way to for something made of ice to defeat something made from sun, so that’s going to be them until the end of time I reckon. The glowing figure with the sword, that was the spirit of the warrior who had defeated him last time. Come back to finish the job off properly. Did you bring the other thing?”

 

Dru the Druid reached into his robes and brought out a small bottle of expensive looking whiskey and two glass tumblers. He put them onto the table, opened the bottle and poured out two Irish Father sized measures.

 

“Going to get rid of the nose?” he asked Filthy Henry.

 

“It will stop in another thirty minutes,” the fairy detective said, reaching over and lifting it up one of the glasses. He raised it in the air. “Merry Christmas, Dru.”