It's a common phrase that one can catch more with flies with honey than vinegar, but when dealing with Lubber Fiends,
the reverse is typically true. The sourness of Ash sap is irresistible to a Lob-Lie-By-The-Fire and one of the only things
that can convince the destructive little creature away from the hearth.
In folklore, a Lubber Fiend is said to occupy the kettle-holding iron trammel hook above an open fire, where it hangs by
its tail to enjoy the warmth and watch for opportunities to antagonise humans going about their day-to-day chores. It is
a little strange that one of their favourite sups is milk, an opposite taste from the brine-like savour of Ash-juice and yet,
many superstitious folk still attempt to placate a Lob's pernicious behaviour by leaving a saucer of cow's milk near the
fire-grate.
It's an ugly-looking thing, clumps of fur covering a mottled skin and a face only a mother- could love. Three dexterous
fingers and toes for gripping onto its prey and a prehensile tail to ensure a firm embrace. But it was how the loathsome
Lob could've been enticed to leave its traditional setting near the workshop's fire that intrigued the current captor of the
Hobgoblin.
As Oliver Horton stared at the wriggling creature sucking avidly on the spongy glob, Peggy Powler saw features from
the dishevelled inventor that supported a theory she'd been nursing ever since she and Jasper Forster had coaxed the
Lubber Fiend from the metal man's helmet.
The fire in the hearth was down to its embers when the last Witch of Underhill and the ten-year-old had opened the door
to the solitary ramshackle workshop in the woods. Who had lit it and who had maintained the flames during the night?
It was obvious from Peggy's initial viewing of the room, it seemed that two young men and and older one were trapped
inside a iron-fashioned cage that Horton would later say was constructed by the copper-plated maniac.
The workshop was in disarray and idly surveying the lodgings, one might be forgiven in believing it had all the hallmarks
of a creature going berserk without care for what it destroyed. But the adroit sorceress noticed the little things that would
tickle the brain of someone who'd spent their life being wary of the non-Fae, things like the bottles of un-spilled chemicals
on a long table near the fireplace and the supposedly discarded groceries laid on top of a sack near the cage.
After releasing the captives from their pen, Peggy and Jasper had watched as the three males drank eagerly from the
Witch's offered canteen and devoured the contents of the paper-wrapped parcels Oliver had bought from Ravenstang.
Their individual tales were of a simple kidnapping from behind and waking up in the metal coop with a terrifying giant
staring at them, this metal monster had blurted incoherent phrases that their fellow-prisoner with the long beard had
explained were instructions regarding some future employment.
Peggy listened to the testimonies of a young Gypsy called Boy-Boy Munce and the eldest son of Stanley Tundy as she
scanned the workshop's interior. Catching the owner of the out-of-the-way abode watching her scrutiny, the little Witch
portrayed a focused auditor of what the two lads had to say and noticed Horton didn't bother to relate his own account
of abduction.
As the morning blossomed, a nervous Gideon Tundy explained his need to get home and not long after, young Munce
said his goodbyes and left to continue his wanderings. By this time, Oliver Horton was back to tidying-up the little shack
he called home and the Lubber Fiend continued to gorge itself on the spongy canker it had been tempted with.
Although this took place outside and in the same sack Horton had used to conduct his shopping with.
.................................................................
It would be almost noon before the Elders and other residents of Mornington were updated with what had occurred and
when Jasper Forster's parents were reunited with their night-owl-of-a-son. Some of the men pushed to visit the area of
the forest where the debilitated headless metal man stood and others enquired about where the Hobgoblin was currently
being kept, but after assurance from the bare-footed Witch that all was in-hand, the villagers turned their attention to the
person who many spooky tales had been attached to.
Initially, a bedraggled and weary Oliver Horton was viewed with caution, but finally the natives of Mornington shook his
hand and jocularly warned him that some things shouldn't be dabbled with. The scruffy man agreed as many changed
their opinion of the stranger who kept away from their village and he was slowly accepted as one of their own.
The day moved along and with a mild general relief seeping into the usually-quiet hamlet, their attention returned to
preparing for the appearance of the Sky Mirror and its celebration.
.................................................................
Now sitting under the rain-heavy clouds with the creator of the kidnapping automaton, the little Witch decided to use
honey to draw the real Oliver Horton out of his hiding place and discover what that truly gone on out there in the woods.
the reverse is typically true. The sourness of Ash sap is irresistible to a Lob-Lie-By-The-Fire and one of the only things
that can convince the destructive little creature away from the hearth.
In folklore, a Lubber Fiend is said to occupy the kettle-holding iron trammel hook above an open fire, where it hangs by
its tail to enjoy the warmth and watch for opportunities to antagonise humans going about their day-to-day chores. It is
a little strange that one of their favourite sups is milk, an opposite taste from the brine-like savour of Ash-juice and yet,
many superstitious folk still attempt to placate a Lob's pernicious behaviour by leaving a saucer of cow's milk near the
fire-grate.
It's an ugly-looking thing, clumps of fur covering a mottled skin and a face only a mother- could love. Three dexterous
fingers and toes for gripping onto its prey and a prehensile tail to ensure a firm embrace. But it was how the loathsome
Lob could've been enticed to leave its traditional setting near the workshop's fire that intrigued the current captor of the
Hobgoblin.
As Oliver Horton stared at the wriggling creature sucking avidly on the spongy glob, Peggy Powler saw features from
the dishevelled inventor that supported a theory she'd been nursing ever since she and Jasper Forster had coaxed the
Lubber Fiend from the metal man's helmet.
The fire in the hearth was down to its embers when the last Witch of Underhill and the ten-year-old had opened the door
to the solitary ramshackle workshop in the woods. Who had lit it and who had maintained the flames during the night?
It was obvious from Peggy's initial viewing of the room, it seemed that two young men and and older one were trapped
inside a iron-fashioned cage that Horton would later say was constructed by the copper-plated maniac.
The workshop was in disarray and idly surveying the lodgings, one might be forgiven in believing it had all the hallmarks
of a creature going berserk without care for what it destroyed. But the adroit sorceress noticed the little things that would
tickle the brain of someone who'd spent their life being wary of the non-Fae, things like the bottles of un-spilled chemicals
on a long table near the fireplace and the supposedly discarded groceries laid on top of a sack near the cage.
After releasing the captives from their pen, Peggy and Jasper had watched as the three males drank eagerly from the
Witch's offered canteen and devoured the contents of the paper-wrapped parcels Oliver had bought from Ravenstang.
Their individual tales were of a simple kidnapping from behind and waking up in the metal coop with a terrifying giant
staring at them, this metal monster had blurted incoherent phrases that their fellow-prisoner with the long beard had
explained were instructions regarding some future employment.
Peggy listened to the testimonies of a young Gypsy called Boy-Boy Munce and the eldest son of Stanley Tundy as she
scanned the workshop's interior. Catching the owner of the out-of-the-way abode watching her scrutiny, the little Witch
portrayed a focused auditor of what the two lads had to say and noticed Horton didn't bother to relate his own account
of abduction.
As the morning blossomed, a nervous Gideon Tundy explained his need to get home and not long after, young Munce
said his goodbyes and left to continue his wanderings. By this time, Oliver Horton was back to tidying-up the little shack
he called home and the Lubber Fiend continued to gorge itself on the spongy canker it had been tempted with.
Although this took place outside and in the same sack Horton had used to conduct his shopping with.
.................................................................
It would be almost noon before the Elders and other residents of Mornington were updated with what had occurred and
when Jasper Forster's parents were reunited with their night-owl-of-a-son. Some of the men pushed to visit the area of
the forest where the debilitated headless metal man stood and others enquired about where the Hobgoblin was currently
being kept, but after assurance from the bare-footed Witch that all was in-hand, the villagers turned their attention to the
person who many spooky tales had been attached to.
Initially, a bedraggled and weary Oliver Horton was viewed with caution, but finally the natives of Mornington shook his
hand and jocularly warned him that some things shouldn't be dabbled with. The scruffy man agreed as many changed
their opinion of the stranger who kept away from their village and he was slowly accepted as one of their own.
The day moved along and with a mild general relief seeping into the usually-quiet hamlet, their attention returned to
preparing for the appearance of the Sky Mirror and its celebration.
.................................................................
Now sitting under the rain-heavy clouds with the creator of the kidnapping automaton, the little Witch decided to use
honey to draw the real Oliver Horton out of his hiding place and discover what that truly gone on out there in the woods.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.