Fireside Fairytale

Fireside Fairytale

By Andre Ricardo

 

Larthen wiped his brow after hammering the last tent spike into the ground. He stood up to admire his temporary abode. Seeing it propped up justified having carried it on his back the entire day. It was slightly lopsided and likely wouldn’t survive a single gust of wind, but lucky for him the evening air was calm and still.

“Children!” Trendor called out. “Come! Gather around the fire. I have a story for you.”

Larthen obeyed his guide and found a spot in between his friends at the fire. He brushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes to give the wizard his full attention.

“This story took place in a forest, not unlike the one you are in right now,” Trendor started. “It happened here, in southern Donrav, a land ruled by the Frylen-Elvnen. The Spring-Elves.”

“Is it a true story?” Nuline, Larthen’s friend asked.

“It is as true as you and me, so that’s up to you,” Trendor said. “There was a young boy a bit older than you all who loved the forest for the many living things he could find in it. He sought the common creatures, like snails, and spiders, and snakes, as well as the more magical of monsters, like hornrats, hobgoblins, and other haeglyn.”

“What’s a haeglyn?” A young boy across from Larthen asked.

“That’s the Elvish word for monster,” Trendor explained. “Lyn is Elvish for living thing, and haeg means horrible and deadly. Put that together and you have haeglyn, monster.”

The boy nodded his head in understanding. Larthen chewed on a piece of bread, waiting for the wizard to do something spectacular.

“This young boy was often scolded by his father for bringing home the creatures of the forest. Each time he would bring a more outrageous creature and ask his father if it could be a new pet. First, he brought home a rabbit and asked to keep it, but father said, ‘No, let that rabbit go.’”

Trendor removed his pointed drab green hat, whirled around his hand, and pulled out a frightened-looking rabbit from inside. The children clapping and whooping for joy only added to its terror. Trendor plopped the rabbit on the ground and let it scamper into the dark woods.

“And so the boy let the rabbit go. Next, the boy brought home a snake and asked to keep it, but father said, ‘No, let that snake go.’”

Trendor reached down the brown sleeve of his robe and pulled a snake from it, which caused the children to erupt in screams of fear. He tossed the snake into the densest crowd of children, only for it to disappear in a poof of white smoke.

“And so the boy let the snake go.”

“Where did it go?” Nuline screeched.

“Don’t fear, the snake was never real, just a magical illusion, see?” Trendor said before repeating the trick by pulling another snake from his sleeve, this time letting it fade into smoke in his hands. “The rabbit wasn’t real either, but you believed it was. That’s just one of the many powers of magic.”

Larthen’s eyes beamed at the sorcerer.

“Our young hero brought many things before his father, who waved his hand and told him no, no, no. This made our young hero angry, but before he let himself say something he would regret, he came up with a plan. He had to find something so special, so rare, and so magnificent that his father couldn’t possibly tell him he couldn’t keep it. Surely, if he found a dragon his father would let him keep it. Not only would it make him the most popular boy on the continent, but his pet dragon could help with household duties, like lighting the fire in the stove,” Trendor said before raising a hand in the air.

A swirling sphere of fire coalesced between his curved fingers until Trendor flicked his arm downward and flung the burning air at the campfire, causing it to burn tenfold higher for a moment and send a dazzling array of sparks flying in all directions. Larthen tried to watch each spark as it fizzled into nothing. His face felt the cool night air after the wave of heat had passed over him.

“But a dragon would be awfully hard to catch, not something a young boy could do. Even the strongest of men struggle to bring down those giant, winged, feathered beasts. Maybe, he instead could bring home a hobgoblin. He’d seen them in the forest before, scavenging for things and scaring away birds from their dwellings, but always was too scared to approach them. Hobgoblins carried sharpened sticks they used as spears and little bows and arrows, and the young boy knew that orcs often used them for slaves.”

“How tall are they?” Nuline asked.

“Shorter than you. About the height of a tree stump,” Trendor answered.

“Are there nice ones?” Larthen asked.

“No, always stay away from a hobgoblin if you see one. Not only are they grumpy, easily angered little creatures that could hurt you, there might be some of their Golkind brethren, like orcs or goblins, nearby. The young boy knew this too, but still thought that if he could lure a hobgoblin away from its little hut, he might be able to civilize it. He could promise the hob food, water, and could share his toys in exchange for the hob helping out with the boy’s chores. Surely, father would see the utility in having a hobgoblin around to help out around the house, and they would treat him much better than the orcs ever would.”

“How does he lure the hobgoblin?” Larthen asked.

“He doesn’t. He decides it’s too dangerous, as you all should too. Besides, having a smelly hobgoblin around wouldn’t be worth it. He decides to go out into the woods again to find more creatures. Maybe that perfect special pet would be just under some stone he hadn’t checked yet or hiding in a hole in a tree.”

“Like a big centipede?” Oscar, another of Larthen’s friends, asked.

“Better than a centipede. You can find a centipede under plenty of stones and in lots of holes.”

“What about a dryad?” Nuline spat out with a raised hand.

“You can’t keep a dryad as a pet, Nuline. A dryad is one of Spring’s children, and also an extension of herself. Each one has a little piece of Spring’s soul and her energy that gives them life.”

“A satyr!” Another boy guessed.

“A satyr is as big as a man, no chance. Just listen to the story, you’ll all find out. Where was I? Oh, right. Finding the special pet. So our young hero ventures back out into the woods, just as he always would, but this time he is on a mission to find this special pet. He looks in all the places he normally would, in holes, under logs and stones, in tree trunks, under ferns, and in the piles of leaves, but all he finds are bugs and mud, and not even a special sort of bug.”

“Not even a centipede?” Oscar asked with a tone of disappointment.

“Not even a centipede, just a bunch of boring bugs.”

Oscar crossed his arms and let loose a sigh.

“The boy likely felt rather similar to you, having wasted an entire day mucking about in the forest only to find nothing that could change his father’s mind. Worst of all, clouds had rolled in and it looked as though it was about to rain,” Trendor said before picking up his staff and waving it in a circular motion, summoning a miniature cloud that hung over the campsite.

Larthen watched with wonder as the stream of fog coalesced into a tiny storm cloud that began dribbling little droplets of rain on the camp. He managed to catch a droplet on his tongue and then watched the fire angrily twitch against the camp’s personal rainstorm and his friends squeal with delight. After about a minute of rain, the cloud passed on into the trees around him and disappeared.

“So the boy started to retrace his steps on the way back home, trying his best to stay under the thickest of trees to not get too wet. That was when he saw he wasn’t alone in the forest. A tiny glimmer of yellow light flittered between the trees. He didn’t quite know what it was, but he had to find out, and to do that, he would need to get closer. The closer he got, the more he would see what the source of the light was. It was a fairy!”

Trendor made a flourishing movement with his hand and doused the forest canopy with glittering yellow and white magic sparks that fell in spiraling trails, dissipating before they hit the ground.

“The boy had finally found what he was looking for. All the legends say that fairies bring good luck, and the boy had just found one. If he could catch her, he could bring her home, show her to his father, and give them both good luck forever. It was a near-perfect plan, its only flaw was how the boy would capture the fairy. He ran after her, swatting the air with his hands to grab her, but the fairy easily dodged him. ‘Leave me be, young boy,’ the fairy shouted. ‘But I want to keep you as a pet,’ the boy replied. ‘I will treat you fairly and give you plenty to eat.’ ‘I don’t want that, I want to be free and with the other fairies. Leave me be,’ the fairy said with an angry face. She flew deeper into the forest on crystalline wings that glistened in the rain, but the boy wouldn’t take that for an answer. He needed to bring the fairy to his father.”

Trendor let off another few bursts of magical sparks into the air that zipped around the campsite in random directions. Larthen struggled to track them all.

“And so the boy chased, chased, chased after, and the fairy flew, flew, flew away. It might have been an hour of pursuit until the boy felt his foot yanked up by a rope. Now he was hanging upside down by his foot from a rope. The fairy’s light was nowhere to be seen, but a new presence had taken her place. An evil witch cackled with glee and approached the boy from the dark, shadowy trees. She wrung her bony fingers and bared her yellow teeth with each grizzled giggle. Her eyes were red as blood and her clothes as dark as the night sky. She moved like a ghost, floating across the forest floor without making a sound or disturbing the leaves.”

Nuline hid her head in her cloak.

“‘I’ve caught you in my trap,’ the witch said with devious delight. ‘What a fool you are to come so deep into my forest.’ The witch hovered over to the young boy and cut the rope just short enough that she could still yank him about his foot. ‘What are you going to do to me?’ The boy asked between tears. ‘I’m going to practice my dark magic on you until you turn into my undead thrall!’”

Trendor twirled his staff and let loose purple tendrils of smoke that swirled around the campsite and sank into the ground. He raised his free hand into the air like a mad necromancer and commanded a dozen skeletal hands to rise from where the smoke tendrils had landed. The hands curled their fingers and reached for the children, who screeched with terror. Just before any of the hands could reach them, they melted back into purple mist.

“The witch led the boy back to her dwelling, an old stone watchtower built long ago by forgotten hands. Half reclaimed by nature, half twisted by the witch’s darkness, the tower stood seemingly against its will. The witch sneered at the boy and yanked the rope sharply, tripping him on his own feet.”

Trendor swung his staff and released a gust of wind powerful enough to put out the fire and knock the children onto their backs. Trendor relit the fire with magic and resumed his tale while the children clambered back up to see him.

“Then, she dragged him up the tower stairs, knocking his head against each step until they reached the highest room of the tower. She tied him to a rusty bar and told him with a devilish grin ‘I’ll be back for you, little boy.’”

“That’s horrible!” Nuline cried out. “Does the witch eat him?”

“Does she turn him into a slug?” Another girl asked.

“Does the witch make him into a skeleton?” Larthen asked next.

“Is that how you want the story to end?” Trendor asked with a raised eyebrow. “Should the boy learn his lesson about running too deep in the forest and chasing after things he shouldn’t by the witch doing one of those nasty things to him?”

“No!” The children yelled in unison.

“Good! Because that isn’t how the story ends. Remember the fairy that led him to the witch in the first place?”

“Yes!” They said together again.

“Well, she was feeling just awful for having accidentally caused the boy to get captured by this nasty witch, so she flitters over to the top of the tower. ‘Shhh,’ the fairy whispered. ‘Don’t say a word. I’m going to get you out of here.’ And then the fairy let out a puff of magic and poof!”

Trendor blew into his hand and sprayed another waft of sparkling yellow dust across the camp.

“The rusty iron bar blew away into orange dust and the rope strands twirled about until the entire thing came undone. The boy was free if just to walk about the crumbling stone floor of the tower. The fairy flew outside and used the ancient fae magic to pull off loose bricks and tree branches from the tower to make floating stairs down to the forest floor. “What’s that racket up there? Quiet down, boy!” The witch ordered from below, her voice growing louder as she climbed the stairs. “I’ve got a potion to test on you.” The young boy carefully climbed out of the window and stepped surely on each floating brick. He almost missed his step, but the fairy instantly shifted the brick to catch him. Once at the bottom, the boy ran after the fairy who led him away from the witch’s tower. She shrieked curses from the top and cast spells at him.”

Trendor let loose a few attack spells on the trees behind the camp site. Each trunk lit up for a split second as the concussive magic sent splinters of bark spraying outward from each explosive blast.

“The boy and the fairy flew far away until the boy’s village came into view at the edge of the forest. ‘I’ve led you back as far as I can,’ the fairy said. ‘Thank you,’ the boy said as tears slid down his cheeks. ‘I’m sorry for chasing you, I’ll never go back into that forest again.’ The fairy flew down in front of the boy’s face and looked at him with eyes that glittered like precious gems. ‘You can still go in the forest, young boy. The wild place of the world has many mysteries and fascinating things to find, but danger is always lurking wherever you may be. A little caution and knowing when to turn back for home will keep you safe.’ And so the boy let the fairy go.”

The wizard cast another bright flash of magic deep into the forest, illuminating the trees against the darkness of nighttime that had set in.

“The boy threw open the door to his home and embraced his father with a tight hug. ‘Careful!’ The boy’s father said, not reaching his arms to hug his son back. ‘You might hurt your surprise.’ ‘Surprise?’ The boy said with a face of confusion. His father grinned widely, unable to contain the secret any longer, and took his arms out from behind his back. In his hands was a tiny, scared kitten who greeted the boy with a little mew. ‘I know you’ve been looking for a pet for the house for a long time now, so I decided it was time for you to have a real one. What do you want to name her?’ His father asked. ‘Whoopee, a kitten! I want to call her Fairy.’ The boy cheered. And he and his little kitten Fairy played and had great fun for the rest of their days. The end.”

The children applauded the wizard for his story. Trendor stood up and took a deep bow. Larthen clapped fervently. The memories of magic danced through his young mind.

“I want to be a wizard just like you, Trendor!” Larthen said.

“Is that so? Well, to become a powerful wizard you need to get lots of good sleep, not too much though. A wizard can’t be lazy. How about you head off to your tent?”

Larthen nodded and obeyed, crawling under his crooked tent and falling asleep to dreams of fairies and sorcery.

 

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Photo: Bugra Ozcan