denied, I realized. Every sight, sound, and taste within
the Fairy Ring woke me to my true nature - all the years
of my youth, raised up in the human world, hiding about
like a rat. I wasn’t sacrificing Honor, I was rescuing her.
I couldn’t let go of Honor as my friend - my very
best - and so, I charged on to bring my two worlds together, as one. I ran to find Blossom. I wasn’t jealous
of her, I rationalized, I loved her! When once our lives
were free - joined together as friends and equals I knew
we would be without the sorrow of being singled out
without isolation - but I was wrong. I’d be rushing into
a world to which I’d just been invited with ideals and a
plan too grandiose - a purpose too ancient for thegood
times of Faerie Ring dances to cure. Nevertheless, I
took off at a run, ignoring the twinge I’d just felt in my
gut. What I did not know yet, was that I was being
watched. As I hurried off, someone else hurried after me.
The Faerie Ring Dance
Chapter Nine * Old Soul’s Tree
IIII didn’t now where to find Blossom - it seemed
on days before she just appeared, after I’d been thinking
of her for quite some time usually in the Meadow Glen
or near my pond. This day, though, I didn’t have time
to wait until she appeared - it often took days for her
arrival. Instead, I ran straight for the Meadow Glen.
The late afternoon sun had sent shadows of surrounding
trees across the grass. Their shapes like tall tree people
loomed dark, ominous. I stood inside their cool, shaded
outlines and felt protected from the heat of the sun. I
lingered, although Blossom obviously wasn’t anywhere in
sight. I worried, too, that I might not find her before
nightfall. After catching my breath, in the shade, I moved on to search at the pond. I thought of seeing
her catching fireflies, and instantly I knew where to go
the hollow’s Six-shaped Tree and to the ring of grass,
more green, beneath the Yew tree. Just as I began to
worry if I’d find her in time, I had the inking I was
being watched. Then I heard a splash and a scream like
no other.
The “R-raaaarr!,“ scream of a cat. I ran toward
the sound. It was the McGillicutty housecat, Peter. He
had been following me since the house - all this way.
“Stalker!” I yelled. The cat hissed and spit.
“Here!” I yelled and tossed the vine. I lassoed his
big, old tail and pulled him, heaved him, yanked him
several inches to where his paws could touch the bottom
of the pond.
“I’ve saved your life,” I said, “Now you owe me
and you must help me in return.”
The cat threw himself upon the shore with a
“Mm-mm!” sound and bowed his big head low toward his paws. He licked himself, reclaiming his pride and
then he shook.
“Ah!” I yelled, “You could have told me you
were going to do that!” Pond water had now soaked me
too.
“What do you want?” the cat finally asked me.
“Peace. Friends? No violence and a ride - to the
hollow - quickly.”
“All of those things?” he asked.
“I could have asked a lot more. You were
drowning in there!”
“I suppose, um, I guess I could,” then he
launched into several excuses. “Never learned to swim.
Cats don’t like water, ya know? It’s very cold in there.”
“What were you doing so close to a pond, then?”
I asked him.
“I followed you. Stalked you, really. Then, I
saw a fish jump. I love fish. He was in the shallow end,
at first, but then, he moved and I just fell, I guess. You ever catch any of those fish?”
“All the time,” I lied.
“Then I’ll make you a new deal. You catch me
some of those fish, and bring them to me at the house,
and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, today.”
“But today’s almost over,” I haggled and bartered
my way to a free ride pass whenever an emergency arose.
With that agreement behind us, I fashioned a harness
and climbed onto his back. Fast as he could he took me
to the Fairy Ring beneath the Yew. At a speed which
was exhilarating at first, but then became a series of
annoying breaks and fast walks as he was a bit out of
shape - lazy since the McGillicutty’s had moved in, I’d
assumed, plus the widened girth due to all the sheep’s
milk.
“Ho boy!” he sputtered, holding himself and
catching his breath. “This the place?”
“Uh huh,” I said, suddenly growing bashful at
the thought of barging into the ring without an invite and without Blossom by my side. And, what was I to
do about Peter? Leave him? I couldn’t just walk into
the world of the Queen of the Fairies’ with an enormous
cat, whom I may have bribed into doing a
few good deeds so far, but hadn’t yet determined if he
could be trusted entirely. Like I’d mentioned, my dear
mum once told me that some housecats could be friends,
but others were downright killers. This one test of his
loyalty seemed less than an obvious reason to trusthim so
soon.
“I’ll just be a moment,” I told him.
“Where you going?” he asked.
“In there,” I pointed to the ring of grass that
grew more green beneath the Yew.
“Ha!” the cat laughed, “whatever for?”
“You’ll see,” I said, “I need some directions. The
cat watched as I stepped into the ring, swishing his tail,
curious - like a cat always is - and inquisitive as a cat
who had met a wee folk with the ability to charm a cat and speak to him as well.
One step inside and the view before my eyes
completely changed. There were many faeries bustling
about an entire world of enchantment opened up in front
of me, once again. I had to find someone who knew
Blossom, I thought, but for a moment, I was so caught
up in what I saw that I simply stood gawking in wonder
at the sights and sounds of the fairy world aroundme.
“Wow!” I whispered as probably every visitor
had, throughout time, just this many steps from the
mortal world outside the ring. For a moment, I
completely lost my way. A faerie dressed in fuschia
blossoms saw me watching, my mouth open in awe.
Petals dropped from the sky like snow fall, creating a
kind of beauty and hush in the air. Bells and the faint
sound of a song drifted through the air. Strange and
wonderful fronds spiraled up toward the sky, dotted
with dew drops that shimmered like lampposts along the
avenues. Lush trees, ferns, and wild flowers grew inside the area which was much larger than the ring appeared
from outside, in the realm of the humans.
There were homes and shops and, of course, the
area for dancing and the Castle of the Queen. From the
trees, hung fanciful cages for fireflies which
lit the way at night.
“Kneel, kneel!” the fuschia petal adorned
faerie
girl whispered, pressing her palms down through theair.
“Like this,” she said, “and don’t look up.” I
followed her lead and listened as the faint music grew
louder and then tiny hooves and the innumerable feet of
fairies in a parade came into view of my down-cast eyes.
O, the shoes that went by me were fanciful, indeed,
which made me smile. I wanted to look up. I wanted,
at least, to turn to the faerie next to me.
“Don’t look up!” she whispered, again; so, I
didn’t. There were knee-high booties of feathers from
the underbellies of doves, pumps made from snapdragons,
and shoes like the elves wore made from birch leaves and spun gold. Tiny ponies made noises and snorts from
their nostrils and bells tinkled and jangled - as I could
not look up I only imagined
each time their heads tossed as their finely brushed tails
drug the ground.
“What is this?” I whispered.
“The procession,” the faerie girl said.
“Of the Queen?” I asked.
She shushed me at first, but then very softly, as
she must have felt bad, whispered, “The King.”
Coattails that must have been spun from
silkworms touched the ground. It was killing me not to
look up, but I didn’t. At last, as gold wheels of a
carriage rolled by, I saw the thin fingers of a pale, dainty
hand reach out from above to just under my nose. I
looked up. Every faerie around me was standing as I
knelt.
“Here,” she said. I took her hand. She helped
me up. I inquisitively turned to look toward the sounds of bells and music fading in the distance. I saw the tail
end of the procession were two fairy children atop a
sled pulled by four tiny, white wolves and the expansive
wings of a butterfly girl in a feather dress tossing petals
from a basket, first to the left side and then to the right.
“That was something,” I said.
“He’s the King,” she replied, “so I suppose it
could not be anything less, now could it?” she asked.
“I suppose not,” I said and that sounded logical.
“Do you know where I can find Blossom?” I asked. She
laughed.
“That’s a rather common name for a faerie around
these woods.” I explained she had brought me to the last
full moon’s dance, so she knew right away whom I was
talking about.
“Ellewyon tribe,” she said.
“The Old Soul’s Tree is her home. Huge family!”
she said, “so, huge tree.” I nodded. Again, a logical
statement. I liked it here, and I almost burst with emotion telling her so; but, I had to find Blossom - to
help me with Honor - before nightfall. I excused myself,
gushing praise, once more of her fanciful home, to which
she only smiled a close lipped kind of smirk and waved
with her fingers, and then she was gone. I jumped out
of the magical ring as Blossom had taught me.
“Ellewyon,” I said out loud, looking around for
the cat.
Then I shouted, “To the tree called Old Soul’s
Tree!” and I jumped onto his back, grabbing the harness
I’d made to hold onto in hopes that I wouldn’t fall off.
Blossom’s father of Ellewyon tribe wore a
delphinium coat with moss knickers, slippers of birch
bark, and an ivy leaf cap. His vest was a single red
woodpecker’s wing feather, split up the middle and
fastened together at the back of his neck. In his pocket,
a tiniest watch made of gold tinkled rather than ticked,
and he smoked what smelled like dried berries and sage
in a pipe of whittled willow wood. “Come in,” he said so quickly after I’d knocked
upon a blue door at the base of the Old Soul’s tree, that
I jumped slightly but regained my composure at the sight
of his calm, dark brown eyes and slight smile.
He puffed once upon his pipe, and then said
again, “Come in! Come in! Only a friend of the faeries
can see our door - it’s a wee bit magic in that way, it is.
So, sit, sit, sit;here, have a seat. What brings you to our
door?”
Inside the Old Soul’s tree was an intricate series
of stairs and ladders which led up to different colored
doorways and homes. An entire village of windows that
must have peeked out of rooms were stacked one upon
the other and then branched out into avenue along the
wide, hollow limbs of the tree, on up until I almost
couldn’t see the sight of them anymore - disappearing
into the shadows and distance of the tree.
Faeries peeked out of nearby windows as I sat
down in the welcoming hollow openness, a short climb up from the door, as if it were a piazza or London-like
square, where all stairways and subsequent connecting
avenues branched off from these same stairways in the
tree, and I guessed some had peeked to see whom had
arrived. I suddenly wished I were more impressive of a
guest as I meekly inquired of the fanciful dressed man
about Blossom’s whereabouts; and, if I could speak to
her, asking her help and a moment of her time. He
mentioned, by my accent and my stature I was not from
this woods. He asked me about my home and my family.
“I’m an Irish pixie gnome,” I said, “grew up more
years in England, though,” in the home of the ladies who
now lived in the hollow which I did not tell were
of my visit that brought me to ask this favor of Blossom.
It was here, that I remembered the twinge, I had felt,
and yet I still did not change my plans nor my mind.
As I walked around that magnificent tree and its
intricate world, tightly run by this warm hearted - and I felt it - Old Soul - like the fuschia faerie had said, ‘huge
family, huge tree’ - I realized although the better idea
would have been to immerse myself into this world and
that of the Faerie Ring without my attachment to
humans, I was bringing Honor along because I considered
her my family. When I didn’t like what Blithe had to
offer us any longer, I wanted to bring a bit of themagic
the faerie world had to offer to help Honor find her
freedom - like I’d, hopefully, found mine. However
better left behind that thought would have been, it was
there, and I went with it according to plan. The inkling
that this could be my family, rather than a human family
had begun to set in, though, too.
I walked with the father of Ellewyon up the
stairs and through the avenues looking for Blossom,
marveling at the sights and sounds, and being introduced
to several others of the Old Soul’s tree. Past a house full
of bakers, an irresistible smell filled the air, so we sat and
shared a bite of the freshly baked goods. Faeries in white coats mixed, rolled, and baked delicious
confections and imaginative cakes. Another house held a
room full of instrument players. House after house had
things going on which involved feeding the family,
&n
bsp; carrying a song, filling the houses and rooms with such
happy goodness and brightly inspired faeries that by the
time we got up to the house where Blossom knelt,
fastening a rose petal to a dress form - covered by an
exquisitely, feathery faerie dress - I wanted to take her
into my arms and just hug her; but, her father stepped
between us, and I controlled myself - although I was
feeling entirely happy, and at home. In a home, not
alone, and for the first time without humans - with the
faeries!
Blossom and her many, many sisters fashioned
dresses together in a house filled with all sorts of petals
and flowers, odds and ends, this’s and that’s, and
whatevers held in boxes along tall shelves. Only called
sisters they were, as Ellewyon faeries are formed and not born, Blossom had told me, when a ray of morning
sunlight is caught inside a drop of dew on a butterflies
wing as it brushes past a flower growing wild or tended
in a well-loved garden causing a bit of its magical dust
for flight to touch down.
Blossom was so shocked to see me, the pin she
was holding stuck in her thumb.
“O!” she cried, and then she stood up sucking on
the pin prick.
“Hewwo!” she said with her thumb still in her
mouth.
“Hello, Blossom!” the patron of Ellewyon
boomed, loudly, “a visitor to our humble home.” He
stepped aside and there I saw her silhouetted by the light
of many twinkling orbs lit by glow worms in clear, round
containers, a slight smile peeking out past her thumb, and
right then I wished with all my heart for Blossom and me
to be alone together so we could talk.
“Narn?” she asked smiling, removing her thumb from her mouth, “What are you doing here? How did
you get here? How did you know where I lived?”
“Now, Blossom,” her father intruded to soothe an
awkward pause, “any bird in the meadow could have
told him.”
“I suppose so,” she said, “but father, I don’t think
Narn talks to birds.”
“O?” he asked, looking at me. I shook my head,
no. “Well, you must teach him, some day.”
“Father,” Blossom protested.
“No?” he asked. She shook her head as I had.
“These young faeries,” he said. “Dinner then,”
he said, “Come, come, come! Everyone - all of you