The Dullahan by Will Waller
When the dullahan speaks a name, that name is marked for death.
In a valley in the mountains was a farm. Stone walls lined the boggy ground, corralling the wandering sheep while a misty drizzle fell continuously.
The farmer's son worked in the drizzle, tilling the field, when a stranger arrived driving a black carriage drawn by two black horses. The stranger was headless—dullahan. There was nothing but thin wisps of black smoke where its head would have met its neck.
"Hello there," said the fairy, dismounting. "A fine farm," he observed. "Whose is it?"
"My father's," replied the farmer's son. He gave the name.
The dullahan nodded, repeating it.
The farmer's son continued his work.
The dullahan watched him for a time, then said, "Would you plant me a forest?" It considered the land, then pointed. "Over there? If you do, I shall grant one wish."
The farmer's son saw which area, knew his father had no plans for it, and said, "I will."
Planting took all day. The dullahan returned as the farmer's son set the last seed into place.
"My wish," began the farmer's son, but the dullahan held up a hand.
“You planted, yes," said the dullahan. "Once it is a forest, I shall owe one wish. Until then..." It paused, considering, "Would you come with me?"
"I'm needed here," said the farmer's son. "There's much work to do."
The dullahan inclined its torso in a short bow, showing shadow, then mounted its carriage and departed.
Not long after, the young man's father died.
Bewildered, the young man inherited the farm.
Now he was the farmer.
***
Years passed. The new farmer grew up and married. He held his wedding day in the copse of sapling trees he planted for the dullahan years ago.
The dullahan arrived after the ceremony, during celebration. The black carriage drew eyes and the dullahan's headless visage drew gasps, but the farmer rushed to greet him.
"Come, come," The farmer said. "Let me show you your forest."
He led the dullahan through the crowd to the saplings.
The dullahan stared, or seemed to. "They are good, healthy saplings, but this is not a forest yet," it said at last. "Will you introduce me to your bride?"
The farmer smiled. "These saplings are new to this region. If they have a name, we didn't know it, so I named them after my wife as part of the ceremony. These are hazel. I'll introduce you to the woman now."
The dullahan was silent for a moment, staring at the young trees, until finally, perhaps approvingly, it said, "Clever," and followed the farmer.
It did not repeat the name.
The dullahan met the farmer's wife.
"Stay. Stay," she told it. "This is a precious day to us. We would have all our friends here to celebrate."
No fairy could refuse such an invitation.
At the end of the wedding, as people were taking their leave, the dullahan approached the farmer and asked, "Would you come with me?”
The farmer laughed. “Not today, friend," was all he had time to say before he was led elsewhere by his wife.
***
Years later, the farmer was a father. He had three children and his wife was pregnant with another, but he was a soldier, far from home, surrounded by hazel trees like the ones he named for his wife.
Watchful for enemy soldiers, he spotted the dullahan through the trees even without the black carriage. The dullahan walked casually and greeted the soldier warmly, unconcerned by the battlefield.
"My forest has grown in your absence," said the dullahan. "I owe a wish. I can take you from this place. Let you see my forest once more. Don't you want to go home?"
"I do," replied the soldier. "That's why I must continue. We're not done here."
"Give me your wish," demanded the dullahan.
The soldier held up a hand, listening for something he might have missed, then extended a hand to the dullahan and said, “My only wish is that you and I may part now as friends."
“You will not come with me?” it asked.
“Not today,” said the man.
The dullahan took his hand.
“Come back and ask again someday," said the man.
***
The farmer's children were all married, his grandchildren, healthy and strong. The land had been bountiful and he had already split its fields and herds between them.
He'd kept his father's farm and few sheep, to keep him busy, but his wife had died years ago and he missed her.
The dullahan arrived while he was mending a fence by the forest.
They greeted one another warmly, like old friends.
“You never made a wish,” observed the dullahan.
“Hold this for me?” said the man, indicating a board.
The fairy held the wood. The man hammered in the nail.
“What is your wish?” the dullahan asked. "The forest you planted for me is grown. What's more, you've lived through many hard winters, yet you never felled a single tree."
"My children grew up in this forest," said the farmer. "They played amongst the trees and learned to climb on the branches. There was other wood."
"Would you come with me, this time?" the dullahan asked.
The farmer took a long look around the valley, at the trees he planted, then at his father's home. Finally, he nodded. He held out a hand toward the dullahan and gave his name.
They shook, then they left together.
***
Sunday, when the farmer's sons visited with their families, they found their father dead in the forest he'd named for their mother.
His tools were still on the ground.
The wind singing through the trees sounded like bells.
A black carriage led by black horses pulled up through the trees. The carriage had a headless driver—a dullahan.