So what happens if two people who have promised their firstborn to separate witches have a child together? Do they both just pop up in the nursery and have a custody battle?

I need a book about a little girl whose parents had promised their firstborn to different witches and the only way that both ends of the deal were fulfilled was for them to have joint custody of the child.

Lullaby to the Changeling Child

The day may come some day, my love
That finds you far from home
Recall your mother’s words, my love
To protect you as you roam

Eat nothing offered you, my love
In lands of summer fair
Though hunger gnaws your bones, my love
Their food will trap you there

Beautiful are they, my love
The fair and fickle folk
Hungry too are they, my love
And would eat you in a gulp

No lies may cross their lips, my love
Though truth is e’er their bane
But trust nothing that they say, my love
Trickery runs in their veins

So where you go, keep safe, my love
For dangers lie ahead
But now, this night, you’re here, my love
Safe in your own little bed

Faerie Food

Stories speak of faerie food and delights that are undeniably delectable, but bring strong consequences to humans. Faerie food is said to taste like Wheaten-bread, mixed with wine and honey.

Some (supposed) examples of faerie food include:

  • Flower petals.
  • Dogwood fruit.
  • (Fae) cheese.
  • Small cakes and other pastries. 

If one is in the realm of the faeries and is offered food and drink - it would be wise to kindly decline. Tales tell of numerous outcomes that can occur: 

  • Trapped - The person who eats or drinks something will be either trapped in the faerie world forever, or temporarily. If one is trapped temporarily, when they come back to the human world, time may have fast forwarded quickly (it could be a few hours, days, or centuries).
  • Appetite corruption - Faerie food is more appealing than human food, and thus whenever the person tries human food again, it will taste like dust or otherwise unsavoury. It is also said that the human will be forever hungry and never satisfied after meals.
  • Control - Eating the food could allow an entity (reputed to be a ruler of some sort), to take control of the human. This could be dangerous if the entity is tyrannical or malevolent. 
  • Shapeshifting - Eating the food could result in a permanent change of form (animals, humanoids, etc) or an uncontrollable state of continuous shapeshifting over time.

When faeries eat their food, they do not do so physically. Rather, they consume the toradh (spiritual essence of the food). However, it is said that when they eat physical food, it may include:

  • Barley meal.
  • Poisonous mushrooms.
  • Goat milk.
  • Silver weed roots.
  • Heather stalks.
  • Toadstools.

These sketches went a long with that big comic idea I had that I ended up scrapping. I decided I might as well show you guys for you own enjoyment. Maybe I’ll sketch a few more of the ideas i had.

Basically it went that Bog was summoned to the Boggart court, held once a year during all hallows eve when the veil is lifted. Every “Bog King” must attend. However, our Bog has refused to go for years because of some bad blood with the Cheif Goblin, Owd Hob. AKA Bog’s father. Marianne wants to meet him but Owd Hob hates fairies. So she must go in secret as Bog’s fake Goblin fiance. Shenanigans ensue. 

This girl shivers and crawls under the covers with all her clothes on and falls into an overdue library book, a faerie story with rats and marrow and burning curses. The sentences build a fence around her, a Times Roman 10-point barricade, to keep the thorny voices in her head from getting too close.
—  Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls

The Glaistig is a type of ghost in Scottish mythology, as well as a type of fuath (malevolent water spirit). Her Gaelic name translates to “water imp”.


She may appear either as a beautiful woman or a monstrous mien. She is often depicted as a half-woman half-goat (similar to a Satyr). The lower goat half of her hybrid form is usually disguised by a long, flowing green robe or dress, and the woman often appears grey with long golden hair.

She is said to frequent lochs and rivers in the Highlands of Scotland.

There are variations surrounding whether or not Glaistig is benevolent or malevolent.

Some stories have her luring men to her lair with her enchanting song or dance, where she would then drink their blood. Other such tales have her casting stones in the path of travellers or throwing them off course.

However, in other sources she is said to be a type of tutelary deity and protector of cattle and herders, and in at least one legend in Scotland, the town of Ach-na-Creige had such a spirit protecting the cattle herds. The townsfolk, in gratitude, poured milk from the cows into a hollowed-out stone for her to drink. According to the same legend, her protection was revoked after one local youth poured boiling milk into the stone, burning her. She has also been described in some folklore as watching over children while their mothers milked the cows and fathers watched over the herds.

The Green Lady

Another rendition of the Glaistig legend is that she was once a mortal noblewoman, to whom a “faerie” nature had been given or who was cursed with the goat’s legs and immortality, and since has been known as “The Green Lady”. She might either be benign, watching over houses and looking after the weak mind, cause poltergeist activity, or appear as a vengeful ghost

In some tales, she was the daughter of a lord who was murdered in a green dress, and then stuffed unceremoniously up the chimney by a servant. It is said that her footsteps can still be heard as she walks the castle in sadness.

However there is another variation on the Green Lady legend. It tells of a mortal woman who lived on an island near the Firth of Clyde and who was smitten by the faeries and was granted her unspoken wish to become one of them. Afterwards, she dedicated herself to watching over the cattle of the island until a farmer offended her greatly through rude treatment and she left, making her way to the mainland by leaping to nearby islets before snagging her hoof in the rigging of a passing ship. She, according to this tale, fell into the ocean and presumably drowned, or at any rate was never seen again.

I once had a best friend who believed in fairies.
‘It’s faerie,’ she corrected me as we wandered through the forest at dusk. 'They’re watching us.’ When my fingers brushed the rough skin of the trees, I felt something powerful, running through the veins of every branch.
'Aren’t you a little old to believe in faeries?’ I asked, because we were sophomores and no one believed in that kind of stuff anymore. Mom took me to Church, but I was sure we were too old to believe in God too.
 'I’ll never be too old to believe in magic.' 
She sounded so convinced, I moved my hand away from the beating heart of the wary tree, it was just my imagination anyway.
I once had a best friend who believed in killing herself.
'There’s nothing else to it,’ she shrugged. We were lying on the couch on a Friday afternoon, it was too hot to go outside. 'It’ll fix everything.’ We were juniors now, and she had gotten too old to believe in faeries.
'I have somewhere to take you,’ I whispered to her, offering her my hand. Her blue eyes sparkled gold and she intertwined her fingers with my own.
I took her to that forest, the one where I had mocked her, where I told her that faeries didn’t exist, not anymore. I had told her that maybe they used to exist, but we had killed them all. That’s what we do. We kill things.
But she couldn’t kill herself. I saw it now.
'Put your hand on the tree,’ I told her, watching her every move. With her frail arm, she moved towards the wary branches.
She became one with nature, with the faeries. With a single touch, I could see her wings, her crown, her true form.
'What about the faeries? What about the magic?’
—  You are never too old for fairy tales
Faerie is a perilous land, and in it are pitfalls for the unwary and dungeons for the overbold; The realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beasts and birds are found there; shoreless seas and stars uncounted; beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present peril; both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords.
—  J.R.R. Tolkien