Neely, at least, kept his word: he was nowhere near the castle. He was, in fact, about as far to the opposite side of the castle as it was possible to be without leaping over a cliff. Still in his tallfolk glam, dark hair and dark clothes, he had gone to the stone circle, where the centre was mysteriously clean of snow and the black ashes of the Samhain fires still scored the ground. He kicked at a blackened chunk of wood and shook his head. It was not like him to freeze his ass off for pure sentiment.

A boy came out of the woods, a pretty, young-looking boy with long, dark, wild hair and bare feet that crunched through the top layer of snow. He was ill-dressed for this weather, in a simple shift and pair of leggings that seemed thin, worn threadbare in places.

His teeth chattered as he approached the man, eyeing him cautiously. "Do you have any food, sir?"

Neely turned suddenly, caught off-guard. He relaxed somewhat when he saw the boy, but kept his distance. "Not on me." He touched his pocket at his waist. "What are you doing out here? If I gave you some coin, would you buy food with it?"

The boy rubbed his arms. "If you gave me some coin, I might get so hungry I would eat it before I could use it for victuals," he admitted, then grinned at the man, and his eyes flashed yellow. "How dost thou fare, my sweet Shay?"

Neely suppressed a groan. He slumped back against an upright stone that was ancient long before Cnoch-na-Niall was a circle of leather tents, and looked wearily at the boy. "I'm shit, if you must know. Shay's shit. Why are you here, Puck?"

The hobgoblin grinned its sharp grin of pointy teeth, and changed itself into its usual form. "Worried over this wearisome wedding?" it asked. "Your contumncious yet captivating Countess conniving to couple her comely cunt comprehensively with that contemptible creature's calloused cock?" It ran a hand along its own hairy prick, as if imagining the picture in vivid detail.

Neely's nostrils flared almost imperceptibly. "I think the alliterative integrity would have survived without the word 'comprehensively,' but aye, that's some of it. You have an obsession with my daughter's genitals. Isn't there a ewe around here you could bugger?"

"Would you have liked consummate instead?" The Puck tilted its head sympathetically. "My precious, perfect prince," it said to Neely. "The Puck is prepared to perhaps partially improve this predicament?"

"No," he said firmly. "Under no circumstances. Gods' sake, Puck, learn when you're well and truly bearded and find a new mark. Even I've given up hope on her at this point. Let her have her tallfolk; maybe it will become fashionable again."

The hobgoblin looked sad, its eyes getting large, its ears flopping downward, and it slumped a little. "But I halted my hiatus from highjinks for you."

It pouted, its lip curling forward.