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Sealwoman	By : SkyStillCries Category: Fairy Tales, Fables, Folklore, Legends, and Myth > Folklore Views: 7353 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the book(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sealwoman
- 1
Author's Note: I have always loved the story of the selkie. And well, I just couldn't bring myself to have any heavy descriptions of sex - heck, I didn't want to even use the word in the story.

The fisherman couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There, under the light of the full moon, were shapes moving the surf. Slender beings, like willow trees, but he could see the silver glittering on their arms and cascading down naked stomachs. Ten. Ten young women with cascading hair, slender bodies, and the feel of the unearthly about them.

It was easy to creep closer. He’d lived along the coastline his entire life and the surf pounding along the nearby rocks muffled any sound he might have made. Above, the stars looked down upon the scene with cold disinterest. The fisherman’s foot touched something and he crouched down, ducking behind one of the slick boulders. Salt reeked in his nostrils, and something else as well, like a fish freshly caught and laying on the sand. He put his fingers to the ground and felt cold, wet, skin. Rubbed his fingers across it. It slid like oil. Sealskin. Ten sealskins.

Chance had brought him here; chance had woken him from his sleep and sent him wandering about the seashore so late at night with the moon full. And now, here before his eyes, were the most beautiful creatures he had seen. This was fate. Carefully, he gathered up one of the skins and crept away, back into the rocks, and hid himself. Then he waited.

The selkies wandered amongst the waves for a while, stopping and picking up shells, examining them and showing them amongst themselves, and every now and then a laugh would drift across the tide. When the moon had dipped in the sky and the fisherman was growing cold, the woman returned to where their skins were hidden. One by one, they threw them about their shoulders, and ran into the surf. They seemed to melt; fall forwards, and then a dark shape would erupt into the water and vanish back into the ocean. All but one did this. She was smaller than the rest and her body was not as formed – her breasts were small and her limbs did not have the curved fullness of a woman. She was young. She was wonderful.

The fisherman stood. He didn’t say a word and nor did she. Neither needed to. There he stood, holding the sealskin, and his intent was in his eyes. She bowed her head and followed him, home to his lonely cottage, where she sat by the fire, drying the saltwater out of her hair, and he went away to hide the sealskin somewhere safe, where his bride would never find it.

Two days later they married. Inland, where the ocean was out of sight, and all the villagers murmured at the beauty of the fisherman’s bride and wondered where she had come from. The eldest wives, the ones that had been married for many many years, were the ones that saw the tears in her eyes. No one else noticed.

He lay with her that night. He was careful, thinking she would fight, and hate him for what he had done. But somehow, her seal heart was not enough to suppress this human form she had been trapped in, and she murmured and wrapped herself around him, gasping as he moved inside her. How to explain it? How the days without her sealskin, without the touch of the ocean against her bare skin, had given her desires that were not there before. How the fisherman’s gaze on her body had awoken longing. And how the feel of his rough hands on her thighs made her forget the tears she had shed at their wedding.

Years passed. They lay together often, and although he often did, she never called it love. It was how she forgot. How that ache within her was sated. For each time he took her to his bed the sound of the waves in her mind subsided and she felt only him. It was never love though.

She bore him three children. Raised them as a mother should and as they grew, he came to her less and less. It wasn’t because he didn’t want her, she could see his eyes lingering on her form every second, it was because she was starting to remember that which was lost. Their nights together had desperation in them, him desperate to tame this wild creature he had captured, her desperate to banish the calling in her heart. Now, instead of his skin, she thought she felt the cool gliding of water and smelled salt in his sweat. He could not make her forget any longer.

The fisherman was starting to notice her distraction. While their children were aging and he was again, she was not. Her body remained as beautiful and young as it had been when he had claimed her, and this was not the blessing it had once seemed. Like Eve’s fruit, it came with a curse. They were not the same. She could never be what he wanted her to be.

One night, he lay alone in his bed, wondering if he should call her to him. The selkie sat for long hours in the kitchen now, in the chair just by the window, and often did not come to bed until he was asleep. He wondered if he bade her come, if she would, and if he touched her if she would respond. If her lips would part and meet his, if she would press that skin against his and let him inside. He looked at his hands – they were wrinkled from work while hers were smooth. There was a sound from the door and the fisherman stood out of bed, knowing that she had gone out into the moonlight.

Again, like that night all those years ago, he followed, and she walked out along the beach, under the full moon, to the waves. The surf caressed her ankles and it was then he heard her song. The rolling water caught it up, tossed it about, and then echoed it back to her. He could not understand the words. A lament, for what was lost, for what she longed for, and for what she had become. She was his wife, but in her heart, she was still married to the sea. It was his turn to have tears on his cheeks.

When she returned to the house, she found him asleep in bed, and the sealskin on the table. There was no hesitation. She grabbed it, ran, and plunged into the water, throwing it over her shoulders. Her body melded together, fins appeared, and the seal shot out into the water, calling for her sisters. The ocean wrapped around her, embracing its lost love, and the ache subsided.

Months passed. For a while, the selkie was content, as she had been content with the human’s hand on her body. But longing came. Desire arose. And she found herself swimming towards shore more and more often, watching from the bobbing waves the spot where she had first seen the fisherman. She would see him still sometimes, out in his boat, and she wondered why she could not leave. The memories of them, entwined in the darkness, brought her back there.

He would walk along the beach on moonlight nights. It was folly, just hope that he’d see something again, some woman in the moonlight with a sealskin about her shoulders. The ocean would seem to speak to him sometimes, as it spoke to her, but he could never understand the words.

There. Singing. Startled, he could only stand for a moment, until he saw the lithe form walking across the sand, the song trailing over the night sky. This time, the language was his own, and it was a lament. A longing for what was lost. She was calling to him.

They lay together, there on the beach, under the cold stars, and this time it was not an attempt to forget. The ocean washed around them and he held her, caressed every spot he knew was sensitive, and she wrapped her long limbs around him. She cried when he slid himself into her and he did not move away. It was not from pain, or fear, but from finding herself torn between these two worlds. The love of a human hand and the call of the ocean. He could ease but one of those.

She left him when they were done. A lingering touch and then she walked back into the ocean, picking up her sealskin and throwing it about her shoulders. He watched her. She would come to him, when the moon was full, but she must go free with the first streak of light. And only the stars, who watched the entire story unfold, know if the fisherman felt any regret for tearing her between two desires, but they are cold and will never finish the tale.
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