THE FAIRY FELLER - STORY 4

Bewitched oil lamps floated in the sky, to help guide the fairy folk and others to the forest. The trumpeter delighted in these, since each lamp was fueled with a different coloured oil. Soft hues of green, blue, purple, pink, yellow, and orange livened up the night, but with a light touch.

“Pretty colours!” said the trumpeter in awe, moving closer to a blue lamp. “Don’t you agree, mister feller?”

“Yes, very pretty,” grumbled the feller. His arms were aching.

He decided to see what was down below them, seeing what this coloured light could provide for his eyes.

He realized that they were no longer in the village. They were now flying over the beautiful countryside; wooden fences and simple thatched-roof houses. Barns were spotted every so often, and little dots of cows were seen walking around slowly and swatting flies with their tails.

The feller simply adored this plain, quiet location: natural beauty was written all over it.

He sighed. “How I wish I could live here,” he said, still looking down.

“Really?” said the trumpeter, looking down now. “The countryside? I prefer the forest myself.”

“Well, mister trumpeter, not all of us want to live in the forest. Some of us want to live like humans; work all day, eat, and go to sleep.”

“That does not sound like a fun life, mister feller,” replied the trumpeter, adjusting his arms. “Is that what you want?”

“Oh, no,” said he, quickly looking up at the trumpeter. “I just want to live here for a few years, you know? Get away from the village folk.”

“I love the village!” cried the trumpeter. “Why don’t you like it?”

“Too noisy, and the fairy folk are irritating,” he replied. “You’re lucky you live in the forest, so you don’t have to see much of the village. When you do visit, it is like the grandest time of your life!”

“Maybe,” the trumpeter sang, cocking his head from side to side. “But I’m not always there for fun.”

“What are you there for then?”

“Well, the nymphs don’t like venturing out much, so they send me to get things for them. And you aren’t the only one doing tasks for Queen Titania, so there.”

“Oh. So you are a task-doer?”

“Yes, and I deliver messages,” he said, nodding. “Joy! We’re here!” The trumpeter flew down speedily, but not too fast, and set the feller on his feet.

The feller groaned with relief and stretched his arms. A large hedge dotted with coloured lights, the same as the lamps, stood before him.

The trumpeter stood next to him and held his arm.

“There we are,” whispered the trumpeter. “The entrance to the forest! Go, go first!”

“But, but,” said the feller, confused. “Where is it?”

“Right in front of you!” hissed the trumpeter. “Just walk in front of it!”

The feller, still confused, walked over anyway. Before he knew it, the middle of the hedge began spinning, and a large hole appeared.

“Oh!” said the feller, laughing. He climbed through, the trumpeter climbing after.

When the feller stood himself up, he was immediately struck with awe. He spun around wildly twice, just to make sure he was really there. Ahead of him he could see pearl white oak trees, scattered, yet arranged in a neat order, for easy moving around. Two large rectangular lily pools, on each side, formed a grassy path
leading to the trees.

“Somebody pinch me,” breathed the feller. “Ow!” he shouted, turning around.

“Ay, you said to pinch you,” said the trumpeter greasily. He held his hand up and repeated the pincer grasp.

The feller stuck his tongue out at him and made to walk down the path.

“Look! Look!” said the trumpeter. “The water babies have come out to sing for you!”

Indeed he was right. Out of the waters of the lily pools emerged several infantile-looking creatures. They all burst out into infant-like laughter. Then they began gurgling.

“Er,” said the feller, looking slightly revolted. “What are they doing?”

“Warming up! Now, shush, before I shove this in your mouth!”