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theforsakenprince · 5 years ago

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Frostbitten Chapter 2: Patton

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Word Count: 2021

Warnings: getting knocked out, blood but only a tiny bit, lemme know if I need to add anything!

Patton tried to be optimistic, especially when the storm clouds began to gather in the distance and thunder boomed overhead. He really did!

But even his smile became a little forced when he had to tell his class of SilkWing dragonets that their school fishing trip was cancelled due to the weather. The fact that they had made it all the way to the docks when it started raining and Patton had received instructions to cancel the trip made the situation no better.

He had a class of twelve dragonets, and he would have to disappoint all of them.

“Bad news, kiddos,” Patton raised his voice over the wind. “the fishing trip is cancelled.” Some of the chaperones rolled their eyes, while others tore at the grass in frustration.

He received a chorus of groans and complaints in reply. He smiled apologetically. He knew how much they had been looking forward to this trip. “I know, I know, but maybe we can reschedule-”

“Mr. Patton!” one of the students, Firefly, shouted. “The boat!”

He whipped his head around to look back at the docks and sure enough, one of the boats was floating freely in the water, the rope tethering it to the docks nowhere in sight. He sighed and turned back to the dragonets, who were staring wide-eyed at the boat, scrambling on top of each other and flapping their bug-like wings to get a better view. The chaperones all looked at Patton, as if expecting him to make a decision.

“Alright, everyone!” he had to shout over the roar of the wind and the pounding of the rain. “Follow your chaperone back to the hive! I’ll be right behind you! I hope,” he added, too quietly for anyone but him to hear. He hoped he wasn’t making a terrible decision. He hoped he would be back on land soon.

As the rest of the class walked away with heads and tails down, Patton turned back to the problem. He sighed and took to the air, slowly making his way to the boat, careful to dodge debris that threatened to knock him in the head or throw him into the ocean with difficulty. His fragile wings weren’t meant to be used in this type of weather.

He hovered around the vessel before he threw his entire weight into it, but it was much too big to push, especially with the weather working against him. His only choice was to try to row back to shore. If only I asked somebody to come with me… he shook his head as the thought crossed his mind. It was too late to fly all the way back to the hive and get help.

He considered leaving the boat, but quickly dismissed the thought. He knew the blame would be put on him, and he would have to pay for the missing property. Getting the boat back to shore was Patton’s only option.

He landed on the boat, stumbling and sliding before he dug his claws into the wood. He looked around frantically until he spotted the oars under one of the benches. He lunged toward it and wrapped his claws around it.

A moment too late, he realized he had never learned how to row a boat before. He gripped the oar and stepped to the edge. “No time like the present, Patton,” he said to himself as he dipped the oar in the water. He chuckled nervously. “I’m in danger.”

Patton ducked as a piece of wood flew over his head and disappeared on the other side of the boat. He gulped.

It was raining too hard to see the edge of the docks now. He pushed his panic down and focused on rowing.

The shore was in sight now. His muscles burned from the exertion, but he forced himself to row faster. The shore was so close-

A blinding pain hit him in the back of the head, and he hit the floor of the boat, unconscious.

Patton woke up to the most painful headache he’s ever experienced in his life. He groaned and sat up, wincing when he realized he had bruises all over his body. He had a vague memory of being pelted by rocks falling from the sky (Was that a dream? It felt weird enough to be a dream) and seabirds flying into him.

Sand was everywhere- in his scales, between his claws, in his eyes. A crab watched him cautiously before determining he wasn’t a threat and skittered away. He could feel seaweed wrapped around one of his back legs, and his mouth tasted of salt.

“W-where are my glasses?” he mumbled, coughing up seawater and sand. He patted the ground beside him and hissed in pain as something sharp pricked his palm. He opened his eyes and realized he’d pricked his palm on pieces of his broken glasses. Blood was now running down his arm, staining the sand below him red. His cat hoodie was soaked, but nothing was ripped, which was a relief.

He attempted to stand, only to collapse back onto the sand. He sighed. Why did everything have to hurt so much? The simple act of rubbing his eyes caused little pinpricks of pain to travel up his arm. He only succeeded in making his vision even blurrier.

Patton forced himself to open his eyes fully and examine his surroundings. Instead of the sheer cliffs of his home continent, Pantala, he was on a beach that slanted upwards to a grassy field. What remained of his boat was spread out not far from him. His heart sank at the sight of the wrecked vessel. The hull had been shattered and the sail was shredded to the tiniest pieces. The oars were nowhere to be seen.

The sound of talonsteps made him swing his head toward the noise. A dragon the color of the beach was making his way toward him. He lifted his head warily, but after a moment, he could tell she meant no harm.

“Are you okay?” she asked. A forked, black tongue slithered out of her mouth. Her eyes were as black as obsidian.

Patton shook his head weakly. He tried to stand again, but fell. The strange dragon caught him with a grunt and began to lead him up the rise. It was difficult because his feet kept slipping in the sand and he was considerably larger than the strange dragon.

He realized she was leading him to a small wooden hut which he presumed was where she lived. She helped him inside and onto a stiff cot. “Wait here,” she ordered, as if he was in any condition to move. “I’ll go find something to fix you up.” she paused on the way out. “My name is Jerboa, by the way.”

Jerboa left the room and returned later with bandages and salves. She started to apply the salves and bandages. Neither of them said anything.

When she was done, she stood up and said, “I’ll get you something to eat. I think I have some pelican in the back…”

Patton laughed nervously. “Do you have anything that’s… not an animal?”

Jerboa blinked at him. “You’re vegetarian?” without waiting for an answer, she turned away, mumbling, “That’s interesting…”

Patton tried to get comfortable while he waited. Jerboa seemed nice enough, but her fascination with him made him a bit uncomfortable.

And where was he, anyway? It was clear that he wasn’t anywhere near the hives. Did everyone back home think he was dead? It looked like a few days had passed since he left. Maybe his class already had a new teacher.

Jerboa came back with some plants he didn’t recognize. She set them down in front of him and gestured for him to dig in. She reached for something behind her as he started to eat.

“I assume these are your glasses?” She set his glasses, completely fixed and crack-free, in front of him.

He stared at them, his jaw on the floor. He picked them up slowly and put them on, shocked that they worked perfectly. “How? They were in pieces when I came!”

Jerboa smiled, the first display of emotion he’d seen from her. “I’ve got my secrets.”

He decided not to ask and continued to shovel food into his mouth.

She stared at him as he ate, which was unsettling. As he finished, she said, “I can tell you have questions.”

He nodded slowly.

She waved her talons. “First, I have a question for you. What tribe are you from?”

Patton fiddled with the cat hoodie wrapped around his neck. “I’m a SilkWing.”

Jerboa looked impressed. “So you really are from the Lost Continent,”

“The what?”

“The Lost Continent. It’s what we call the continent across the ocean. Your continent,”

He let his talons drop. Across the ocean. He had sailed across the entire ocean. He was an ocean away from his home.

He shook his head vigorously. “How did I cross the ocean?”

“On the boat you crash landed into my yard, I presume.”

Patton snickered. “I suppose.”

Jerboa wrapped her tail around her talons, and he noticed for the first time that she had a poisonous barb on the end of it. She caught him staring and tilted her head.

“You really don’t know what I am, do you?” she took his plate away and placed it on a small, stone counter. “I’m a SandWing. Most of us live in the desert, but I like it better here.” she gestured to the hut with a wing. “It’s also easier to avoid the war out here,”

Patton blinked. “The… war?”

“Right.” Jerboa shook her head. “Right now, the entire continent is in turmoil because the SandWing queen died eighteen years ago,” she sighed, as if this was a painful topic to talk about, “Queen Oasis had three daughters: Blister, Blaze, and Burn. When Oasis was killed, all three daughters wanted to be queen, but no one would step down. So they dragged all the tribes into the war,”

He curled his tail around himself, shivering. What had he gotten himself into? Sure, living in the hives wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, but a war wasn’t something he wanted to get in the middle of.

The SandWing looked sympathetic. “I know it’s tough, but you can’t stay here. The IceWing queen likes to stop by sometimes, and she definitely would take interest in you,”

“The IceWing queen?”

“Yeah. It gets annoying sometimes,”

Patton rubbed his eyes and decided not to ask. “If I can’t stay here… is there a way I can get home?” he asked hopefully.”

But Jerboa was already shaking her head. “You wouldn’t know where you would be going. You can’t just pick a direction and sail. That’s suicide. And there’s also the possibility that you could sail into enemy territory…”

“Alright, stop, you’re giving me a headache,”

Jerboa looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Though it’s risky, there is somewhere you could go for the time being,”

He immediately perked up. “Really?”

She nodded. “It’s called the Scorpion Den. It’s one of the few cities that haven’t been touched by the war. It’s ridden over by thieves and criminals, but a SandWing named Thorn has taken it over. It’s become a lot better now that she and the Outclaws are there,”

Patton felt disappointed, but he gave her his best smile. “Thank you, Jerboa. I’ll take your advice.”

After a few days of rest, (Jerboa insisted that he fully recover before setting out) he took some necessities and a map Jerboa had drawn him and set out for the Scorpion Den.

As the wooden hut became smaller and smaller, and eventually became too small to see, he was surprised to feel a pang of homesickness. Homesickness for the hives, for his small apartment, the tiny school he taught at. For the wooden hut he stayed in for a few days.

He turned his eyes to the horizon, pushed away the homesickness and replaced it with determination.

He would adjust to his new world. He would make sure of it.

Taglist: @bangchanthelegend

#frostbitten #frostbitten au #sanders sides #ts sides #ts patton #patton sanders #sanders sides au #ts sides au #dragon!patton #wings of fire #wof #dragon!sides #wings of fire au #wof au #tw blood #arctic's writing

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four-loose-screws · 5 years ago

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FE4 Suzuki Novelization Translation - Chapter 7 Part 5

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations - Ko-fi

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Chapter 7

Part 5

“Let’s cross the sea!” Oifey proposed.

“How, and where to?” Sigurd asked.

“The boats the pirates abandoned are still on the shore. We’ll take those, and cross the seas to the islands.”

“But the pirates are there, and they have their ships! We wouldn’t stand a chance if they attacked us.”

“That’s why we should cross at night. It should take one boat approximately three hours to cross the channel. Earlier, we counted six boats. One boat can fit eight people, can take two round trips a night, and will need four people to row it back, so we can transport at least seventy people a night. If those who reach the islands first capture the pirate base the next morning, chances are, we can increase our number of boats, and even cross during the day. And if we capture some of the pirates, we can force them to steer their ships for us, making travel by sea even easier and faster. If we do this, then everyone should be able to get everyone across before the Grannvalian Army arrives.”

“Oifey, I’m embarrassed. Until I’d heard what you just said, I’d completely lost hope. Let’s do it! Gather everyone together right away!”

The first to cross were Sigurd and all of the infantry.

They set out that night.

Each boat had a lamp hung from the front, as Oifey had ordered, so they wouldn’t get lost.

Sigurd jumped down from Farron and grabbed an oar.

No one was used to rowing a boat, so their trip took much longer than they’d anticipated. But because the waves were calm, they managed to travel safely, and could now see the shore.

There were three pirate ships anchored on the shore in front of the castle, so they landed a little farther away. Each boat chose four people who had the stamina needed to row back to Madino, and they started to sail back.

Sigurd decided that guard duty would last two hours and designated who would fill each post, then ordered everyone else to rest.

Sigurd had put himself on midnight duty. He relieved Arden and took his place, then went out to the shore.

Aside from the white waves crashing against the reef, bathed in the light of the half moon, and the faint light of the lamps hanging from the pirate ships, the sea was shrouded in darkness.

Two hours later, Chulainn came to take his place, but Sigurd went back to the shore without even trying to rest. There was still time before the second group of people were expected to arrive on the boats, but he couldn’t sleep.

As time slowly passed, he began to worry.

The sea was difficult to navigate at night. He wondered if they’d mistaken their course and wandered off in the wrong direction. He also couldn’t rule out that there’d been an accident.

When he had the thought that the sun might rise soon, he swore he saw a faint light.

He stood up, raised a signal lamp, and waved it left to right.

From the water’s surface, he saw a response signal that confirmed someone had seen his signal.

Soon after, five boats floated up to shore. They explained to him that one boat had gotten separated from the group along the way.

Despite that one setback, they’d managed to successfully transport sixty-four people.

The eastern sky was now starting to brighten. It was time for the pirates to begin to wake. Sigurd woke everyone up, and they all started marching towards the castle.

The pirates had never thought there’d be good reason to keep their castle properly guarded. If such a time ever came, they’d decided it better to escape onto their ships and sail away.

If someone stood on Arden’s shoulders, it was easy for them to climb over the castle wall. A few members went inside, and the rest waited in front of the door for the others to open it.

Chulainn snuck up to the pirate guarding the door, and was able to take him out quickly.

Once the door was open, everyone silently walked inside, then broke into three groups to infiltrate the three buildings of the castle. In each building, most of the pirates were still asleep. It appeared that the loss they’d suffered the day before had affected them deeply, and they’d spent the night drinking, so they were sleeping in. It was arguably harder to wake them up than it had been to fight them.

Before long, the pirates had surrendered, and Sigurd’s army were leading them out of the buildings one-by-one.

Sigurd’s army took them to the courtyard nearest to the castle wall, and ordered them to lie down face-first.

“If you try to get up, then we’ll shoot you!”

Knowing that Jamke and five other archers were standing atop the wall, the pirates all obediently stayed lying down.

Sigurd and Chulainn captured the remaining pirates wandering around the main building, leading them deeper inside.

Suddenly, the front door opened, and one pirate - Dobarl - burst inside.

When he saw Sigurd and Chulainn, he was startled, but it took him only a moment to regain his composure and throw his axe at Sigurd.

He didn’t have enough time to dodge, so Sigurd blocked the hand axe with his sword.

At the same time, Chulainn rushed up to Dobarl, and slashed his broadsword across the pirate’s chest.

In less than an hour, they’d seized Orgahill Castle.

Sigurd questioned a few of the pirates, and learned that their captain was a person named Brigid.

“And where is your captain now?”

“Well, after we left the castle, a few guys went to capture her, but not one of them came back! She’s amazing with a bow! She’ll kill you before you can even get close to her!”

‘I want this Brigid as part of my army!’ Sigurd thought, and ordered several cavaliers to search for her.

“Don’t try to fight her. Just talk. Make sure she understands that we’re not her enemy, and bring her back here.”

The pirates also told Sigurd that the three ships only had enough pirates on them to operate them, and confirmed that those pirates on the ships were still unaware of what had happened at the castle.

“Alright! Now let’s take the ships!”

Sigurd dressed his soldiers up as pirates, and divided them and the pirates they felt they could trust up into three groups to infiltrate the boats.

The groups neared the ships, and the pirates led the groups to gain the trust of the remaining pirates on the ships, then everyone climbed aboard. With their guards down, the remaining pirates didn’t resist at all. Sigurd’s army claimed the three ships without having to hurt anyone else.

Sigurd sent two of the ships to dock at Madino for the time being.

ー

Claud and Tailtiu spent the night at the Bragi Tower.

For dinner, they ate the last of their rations.

The next morning, they left the tower and traveled down the thin path on the cape that led to the middle of the island.

After an hour of walking, they saw a group of about five or six men walking towards them.

All of them were carrying axes.

“Father, are they pirates?”

“It appears so, yes.”

The men continued to come towards them.

Tailtiu cast a thunder spell at the leader.

The man fell over, charred black. The sight of him made the other men all hide behind a rock.

Tailtiu let out a huge sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was the first time I ever used magic on another human being.”

“You did very well for your first time. Just look at him.”

“I don’t want to.”

The men weren’t coming out from behind the boulder.

“What should we do, Father?”

“Hmm… If we continue this way, and they all attack us at once, we’d lose for sure.”

“Yeah, I can’t take out a whole group at once.”

“Then all we can do is wait.”

“What will happen if we wait?”

“I don’t know. But there’s no other way, so we must wait.”

The sun gradually rose in the sky, but their situation didn’t change.

“Father, I’m thirsty.”

“So am I.”

‘Does she not know that I don’t have any water or food either?’ Claud wondered. ‘If not, I need to tell her.’

“Oh, look at that!” Tailtiu pointed up at the eastern sky.

Claud looked up and saw a pegasus flying towards them.

The pegasus flew until she was above them, then circled three times before continuing north.

“What is she doing?”

“Well, I don’t know, but I have a feeling that things are looking up for us.”

And Claud was right.

The pegasus turned again, then dive-bombed where the pirates were hiding.

Her rider raised her sword. Electricity crackled from the tip.

The sudden rear attack made the pirates come out from behind the boulder and try to run, but Tailtiu cast a spell at them.

The thunder magic hit one of the pirates, who panicked and ran around in circles for a few seconds before collapsing.

“Eeeeeek!” Tailtiu shrieked.

“There’s no time to shout! Let’s hurry!”

The two women defeated all of the pirates, then the pegasus knight landed next to Tailtiu and Claud.

“You’re Father Claud and Princess Tailtiu, correct? It’s such a relief to see you two safe! I am Erinys, a pegasus knight of Silesse, but also currently a member of Sigurd’s army. I am here because he ordered me last night to go find you two and bring you to him.”

“You’ve saved us, Lady Erinys! Where is Prince Sigurd now?”

He told me that he was planning to go to one of the islands to attack the pirate castle last night. Since I left this morning, I don’t know anything about how the battle went yet…”

“Knowing Sigurd, I’m sure he won. We must hurry to the pirate castle!”

“Then allow me to lead you there.”

The two followed Erinys and hurried along.

They encountered many pirates along the way, but Erinys was able to take care of them all herself.

That night, they stopped at a village along the way, and made it to Orgahill Castle the next afternoon.

They found Sigurd on the coast, giving out orders to his newly recruited pirates.

“We finally caught up to you, Prince Sigurd!”

Sigurd’s entire body jumped for joy at the sound of Claud’s voice. “Father Claud! You’re safe! I was so worried about you when I heard that there were pirates wandering around the Bragi Tower!”

“We’re only safe because you sent Lady Erinys to come get us. Though Tailtiu’s magic abilities were quite helpful, too! But it’s really more important that we discuss what I learned during my prayers. I know the truth.”

“Really? Then…”

“Unsurprisingly, everything that transpired was part of a plot conjured by Duke Reptor. He used Duke Lombard to kill Prince Kurt, then used your father and Duke Ring as his scapegoats.”

“That’s exactly what I thought. So, where is my father now?”

“The gem did not tell me what happened to Duke Byron. But he may have already…”

“No, not my father… What are you going to do now?”

“I will return to the capital straight away and share the truth with the king. Please wait, and don’t do anything rash.”

“Unfortunately, it’s already too late for that. Lombard is leading the Grannvalian Army into Augustria as we speak.”

“What!?”

“It will only take them another day or two to reach Madino.”

“So it would be impossible for me to travel through Augustria back to Balhalla.”

“If Lombard finds out that you know the truth, then he may try to kill you, too.”

“So it really is happening...”

“Hm? What’s happening?”

“Nothing, I just had a feeling things would turn out this way… Okay. I have no choice but to join your army for now. I can use healing magic, and I should be able to learn offensive magic if you want me to.”

“You’re more than welcome to join if you want to, but I apologize for getting you involved in all this.”

“Everything that happens is the will of the gods. We have no choice but to follow their path.”

#fire emblem #fe #fe4 #genealogy of the holy war #nintendo #famicom #super famicom #snes #super nintendo #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #fe4 suzuki novelization translation

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gurguliare · 8 years ago

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I can't tell if ".________." means you'd *like* an ask for it, so no pressure, but if it DOES I'd give an eyetooth to see a DVD commentary for "a double dream." Or the second section of "all they had to lend," if you'd rather a more recent one. *baits breath*

I’LL DO the second section of “all they had to lend” just because “a double dream” is kind of long—if you want to pick an excerpt though? .___. does indeed mean i want asks for this, I’m just. ashamed.

Vingilot’s oars worked stiffly in air. Vingilot’s sails were not savaged by the winds that worked on Elwing; Vingilot seemed rather to feel that changeless wind which fills the moon’s trim crescent.

blah blah blah I like ALL of Tolkien’s ridiculous [x celestial body is actually a boat] suggestions. Did he ever actually mention Tilion with a sail? doesn’t matter. I’m unstoppable.

By a miscalculation she shot past the railing and had to alight, from above, on the bow.

…I love writing flying. I’m bad at it, but I love it: 3D maneuvers! Wind texture! I should do a fic where she takes Elrond on an aerial tour and Elrond is like, half-dead with terror but VERY EXCITED

“I don’t remember commissioning a figurehead,” said her husband. He planted a hand on her foot, but made no other move to steady her. “Who carved you?”

dirtbag Eärendil. I don’t think I planned this before I started writing he just. Came to me.

“I—I was a birch tree, in Doriath’s woods, and I have greatly fallen in station,” she said, trying not to laugh. Her wings beat time to the hiccups she suppressed.

“Elwing obsessively namechecking Doriath,” check. “Elwing managing to do it frivolously and casually”: a first for my fic??

Her husband frowned. His hand crept to her ankle. “You’ll have redress. This is the West. Yet whoever he was, he must have been a fair craftsman: and so, your legs… ah!” He fell away from the kick, coughing his laughter. Incensed, she hopped down to give chase.

A lot of the flirting here was weirdly utilitarian, in that I felt like I was ticking these boxes of… you know…

– “Eärendil and Elwing both subsurface uneasy about the success of their errand, it comes out most when they’re comfortable + happy + joking around”

– “Elwing assumes the discomfort is her fault! Eärendil is passive-aggressive”

They were busy while the ship, of her own genius, laid anchor like Arien in the sea; busy when fishermen came to fling sweet wreaths and shout, because without Eärendil to pilot it, the ship made port near a Teleri settlement, north of her tower. At last a pounding on the cabin door roused Eärendil, who woke her carefully, with a touch on the wrist—as though it mattered now if they made noise.

“because they were having horrendously noisy sex before” SEEMS to be what I was implying?? I can’t remember. I’m not sure I picture them as a loud sex couple. On the other hand, it’s funny.

In their hurry she ended up in his tunic, while he went shirtless to the door. She had time to lace her sandals. Eärendil adjusted the Nauglamír from where it had slipped over one eye, and slid back the latch.

I do remember being set on “Elwing makes Eärendil wear the Silmaril during sex.” Look, small pleasures. Is that weird if it’s alive?

The fishermen carried her out and carried Eärendil out on their shoulders. They tossed him after her into the stinking dinghy, then jumped down themselves, with very little discussion. It was night faster than night had ever come in Sirion. The Silmaril paved the water with silver and gold.

I like the blocking here, I wish I’d spent a little more time on it; I was pleased with the image of them rowing away from this half-submerged spaceship (technically!)

Then on the pier they must all drink to the departed fleet, and weep for those who would come home from the Halls and not the sea. Someone lent Eärendil their black cloak, saying, wisely, that he must be chilled. Elwing ate shrimp, and piled up shells in a glassy heap, and drank sparingly. The headache from the feast was not quite cured, and it came and went with bright evenness, like it took what it was owed—just half of time. Eärendil, noticing her silence, offered her the Nauglamír. After a minimum of protest she let him transfer it to her neck; its weight sharpened the pain to a cruel point, then plucked it out, leaving a fuzzier, enduring warmth.

Again I feel like I was kind of rushing to finish here because I really liked the first half, which I wrote in one sitting, and I wanted to show it off—I mean, uh, you know, artistic motives, something something something. But I like the quick setup strokes, I think I just didn’t do enough food description. I should write more about food, that’s the only thing I really enjoy reading about so it’s pointless for me to devote time to the other senses.

The Silmaril plastered the pier with fine snow. In the alcove of its light, smoke from the brazier hung as rags, and the coals glowed almost pink.

But I like this anyway.

“I have a brother,” said the man opposite Elwing, “who has a wife. She goes to fight. He promised me he would not leave the ship. Do I believe him?”

“No,” said Eärendil, sounding apologetic. He had an arm over Elwing’s shoulder. “Your brother will wait till the horn is sounded and leap over the side. He’ll run through the foam and say to his lady, ‘I fell overboard!’“

I think Eärendil only learned about passive-aggression recently, but what he lacks in experience he makes up for in eager vigor. etc.

“Do you get along with his wife?” Elwing asked.

Elwing on the other hand is an untaught natural. (and concerned with these issues of permeable identity borders and inescapable Noldor kinship, etc., etc., but mostly these asides just COME to her)

She was drowsy and leaden, plagued by untouchable hunger. The absence of pain clasped her throat, scratching her with gold links. She wasn’t drunk. But she had Eärendil by her, and the Silmaril on her breast. When the fishermen had had enough of their own clear liquor to make requests, she sang a canto of the Lay. Lúthien before Morgoth.

In retrospect I should have done more Lay summary/recap here, and telepathic blossoming song-images, since it’s what the genre is for. Though I wonder if those effects apply less to the singer, especially if she’s one of the peredhil.

In eagerness she misplaced a verse, and told how Fingolfin rode over Dor-nu-Fauglith. “In overmastering wrath and hate…” but no, no, it was her grandmother, Lúthien, who wore the demon’s skin and flew. She could salvage that. She went from Fingolfin’s challenge to Lúthien’s lie, binding together two broken couplets.

Elwing loves Lúthien’s story; temperament-wise I would say she’s more Beren’s granddaughter than Lúthien’s, which is of course one reason Lúthien’s story is so important to her; as duelists facing Morgoth go she has more in common with the Noldor’s most famous berserker. One difference: her cause was better and more just than Fingolfin’s (LOVE YOU FIN)???

At midnight the fishers went singing and rowing away to the cluster of huts on the headland. Elwing heard the enchantments of Lúthien fitted, first with caution, and then with increasing creativity, to a drinking song—though the words were archaic, to her ear. A tumbled version of Eärendil’s mother tongue.

She was listening with interest; and then she had jumped to her feet. Why did she have to go? She ran up the length of the pier to the beach, heard her footsteps, and ran faster. She would have taken flight if it had occurred to her, but the stars were out, and Eärendil ran behind her, so she had no wings. Her hair swung over her face. Ticklish, dyed muddy red by the jewel; suppose she lay hidden in a deep brake of reeds, while hunters made old music.

This transition doesn’t make a ton of sense, I think, but it’s meant to be the like, Telerin Quenya triggering a flashback to the sons of Fëanor and their followers in Doriath; I feel like I had a chain of reasoning about why people in Aman would generally speak Sindarin to Elwing and Eärendil rather than Quenya, but I can’t remember what it was. Maybe that by this point victims of the Second Kinslaying would already have been released from the Halls of Mandos, so Sindarin would have spread to settlements in Aman? idk.

She fumbled at the Nauglamír’s chain.

Eärendil came and stopped her, and helped her. Throughout she could not tell him why she had to have it off: she could not be found, could not be caught with the light. She was its protector. Eärendil kept one hand on the side of her neck while she spoke. He gathered the Nauglamír idly in the other, like a torn scrap of mail.

This part was very painful in my head and I don’t think I really got down what I meant, which is, Elwing thinks she has to lose anything she wants to save. She’s wrong, at least!

“We should go back to the tower,” she said, losing the thread of her long explanation. “Olwë gave me a stone—you should see it. We can speak with the host. Not—Finarfin, right now, perhaps—but someone must stand watch.”

He said, “Would you like to fight?”

She tried to understand. Her panic had almost subsided, though it rose and fell with the hissing from the waves. Eärendil seemed sorry not to have made himself comprehensible; he took the corner of his mantle and draped it over the Silmaril, and the Silmaril, obedient, drew half its light out of the air. What was left had a shape. It flamed in pieces on her face. It made a prism of her lashes, radiant and alive. Eärendil put his other arm around her shoulders. He pressed his cheek to her cheek, and rubbed between her shoulderblades, away from where her wings would sprout. His fist with the stone he laid over her heart, as a friend seeking entry.

“knock knock” “who’s there” “your extremely troubled heritage”

Finally he pulled away. He smiled at her in a way that meant he had solved his trouble, and yet doubted himself. But he looked at her longer and the smile disappeared, it became just the forgetful pleasure in a smile—pleasure graven deeply on flat calm. He said, “What I do, you do. So do you want to fight?”

It was as though they had a secret language, which she had neglected to learn. It was like nothing he had ever said to her. Not when he left, or returned from his voyages, and not when he asked her to stay aboard the ship, lest she be killed.

Then she remembered. It was used by the twins. When they were separated by sickness, or a parent’s unreasonable whim: what I do, you do.

She and Eärendil were not clear of the tide. A wave crashed down, spray raining onto their heads. She could not think how to tell him he was ridiculous. (”Yes. Of course we will fight.”) She saw for the first time that in the future their lives would be better; she would have peace, or have it longer, and he would be less patiently afraid. She covered his hand with hers and tugged aside the mantle.

The darkness, with the roar of the sea all around them. The Silmaril whitened her chest from inside a ring of red. Red for a warning—she liked that the Silmaril still flashed its warnings. Any word to steer by, in this unending storm.

…I still like this fic a lot. I like Elwing and Eärendil taking solace in their kids, with nothing else left to do for said kids—though at some point I do plan to write it the other way around. They don’t get the chance to raise the twins, but there’s also no wrenching the amazement and sense of privilege away from them? SIMILAR TO their relationship to changing the world

#chestnut-podfic #no one expects the fannish inquisition #silmarillion #earendil #elwing

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ashnadir · 6 years ago

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cassiegermaine‌:

Cassie couldn’t help but watch the commotion on the dock as they started to drift away. Between Gerbig McGee jumping excitedly and several other fae looking over with piqued interest, Cassie felt a chill run up her spine. She sucked in a breath, and finally focused on the wheel of the ship focusing on the fog that was creeping back into view. If the pirates weren’t messing with them, Soapberry would be on the other side. She watched as Iann wrestled with the sails and ropes for a few minutes, feeling a little guilty that there wasn’t much else assistance she could offer. But thankfully, the wind seemed to be on their side and finalizing their course.

She frowned, “You ate a ton at the beach.” Cassie hadn’t even been thinking about food or water, but as soon as Iann brought it up she felt parched and hungry too. “Good thing ghosts don’t eat.” She pointed out grimly, “Or-aren’t supposed to.” And then just the thought that there might be food or drink on the ship sent Cassie rushing back to the Captain’s Chambers. She hadn’t looked closely, and if Addie woke up she wouldn’t know that rule about eating.

There was nothing in the room, but since Cassie had all but burst in Addie was awakened from her short slumber, rubbing her eyes and whining. “Sorry sweetheart. But we’re going home.”

When Cassie returned with Addie on the deck, she squinted eagerly through the fog. She pointed, voiced raised in excitement, “Is that land? Is that the beach? God if I never have to get on another ship, I’ll be glad.”

“Where-re you - oh,” Iann watched as Cassie ran into the cabin to check on Addie. There was no scream or alarm when she went in there, which meant Addie was safe.

Still, Iann couldn’t help but wonder about the fir darrig McGee. He’d have to double-check the lore on those fae creatures. Fae tended to love mortal children of course; but if Addie was safe then everything seemed alright. McGee hadn’t even seemed to notice that Addie was present on the ship.

“You did’t talk to Gerbig McGee, did you?” Iann called out to Cassie, just to make sure. Even if she would scoff at him in response, at least he’d know.

Soon enough though, Cassie’s sharp werewolf eyes spotted something in the distance. “Shit....I think you’re right. I think that’s land.”

Iann let the ship steer itself - all it needed to do was go forward - as he set about looking over the sides of the ship. Until he spotted it - a little dingy boat, hanging off the side, with the oars sitting inside of it.

“Perfect. Pegs! Let’s abandon ship! I have no idea how to slow a freaking ship down, so we might as well get in that little guy and row to shore, hm? Leave the pirates to deal with their own Sea Sw--” Iann paused, having not said the name of the ship outloud until now.

He looked down into the water - but it was clear and dark and blue. Nothing but water. Grimly, he took a hold of the ropes. “Get in first, I’ll need you to help me lower the boat down.” Iann said, waiting until Cassie had gotten herself and Addie in the boat, before he hopped in too.

“You and me both, hermanita.”

sea swan || cassie & iann

#cassiegermaine #it's perfect!#we can either end here or with yours #I think!

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tumelo-mabuya-writer · 6 years ago

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Short Story: Crystal Island

James finally accepted his death. He believed he was safe when the storm clouds rolled in. He still held on to that hope when his father’s fishing boat was tossed back and forth by the waves. When he, his father and his younger sister, Amy, were forced to flee for the life raft, he still convinced himself they’d make it out of this alive so long as they were together. He and his father lost their oars to the hungry ocean when they tried rowing away and James still wouldn’t accept that they could possibly die. He and Amy were too young for that, right? But when the biggest of all waves overturned their life raft and James found himself in the middle of a dark raging ocean alone calling out for his family, what was left of his hope was swept away. It was getting harder to hold his breath as each salty wave washed over him, pushing him underwater and tossing him around angrily. Finally, James reached the point where he couldn’t hold his breath any longer and accepted his fate as the last wave crashed down on him. The ocean’s fists punched him repeatedly in the face and stomach. Water forced its way into his mouth and down his throat, filling his stomach. How long before his lungs filled next? Would it hurt? Would death take long? Were Amy and his father alive and worrying about him? Were they drowning as he was? Were they already dead? These were the thoughts that flooded James’ mind as the cold darkness encased him.

Daddy... Amy...

James didn’t expect to feel any pain in Heaven when he woke up, but his head was throbbing and his chest hurt. Unsure if he started coughing before waking or the moment he woke but he coughed profusely the moment he felt consciousness. James breathed in and tasted sand entering his mouth. He spat it out, turned over and opened his eyes. Harsh sunlight half-blinded him, forcing him to turn face first into the sand again, breathing it in. After another moment of coughing, spitting and shuddering, James pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Shivering, James looked around and saw he was on a beach. The sand stretched on endlessly on his left and right and the sea was calm behind him. He wasn’t sure where he was but he was certain it wasn’t Heaven. The beach was beautiful and the ocean crystal clear, but something felt ominous about the place. Perhaps it was the jungle. With dark but colourful bushes and tall trees, a thick jungle loomed in front of James a little ways off the beach. The occasional bird swooped in and out of the trees and the leaves rustled in the wind.

“This is definitely not Heaven,” James said.

His ankle confirmed his statement when he stood. He stepped forward and pain shot up his left ankle so sharply he nearly vomited. The world spun – or maybe it was James – and he crashed into the sand after barely taking a step. He breathed in more sand and coughed it out before everything went dark again.

When James woke up again he was warm and dry. He opened his eyes and saw a wooden ceiling above him. He was in a cot much softer and more comfortable than the beach’s sand, covered in a thick blanket. James sat up and looked around him. The room he was in was small and mostly bare except for the cot, a chair and a small wardrobe on the opposite wall. Had the storm and the beach been a dream? Perhaps his father’s fishing boat had docked somewhere and they’d spent the night in an inn. They’d done so on previous trips. Amy was probably asleep in the next room.

James threw off his blanket and saw he was still in his clothes. They were dry and clean, unusually clean, as if they’d been washed recently. The usual smell of fish and sea salt on his clothes had been replaced with a lemon scent. It was very off putting. James climbed out of bed and looked for his shoes but couldn’t find them anywhere. James pulled open the small wardrobe and it was stuffed with old clothes that looked like they came from different eras and countries: Roman robes, English tunics, Japanese kimonos, Greek chitons, trousers, t-shirts, jackets, cloaks, a leather duster and a fur coat. So many clothes all crammed so tightly together but there wasn’t a single shoe.

“Barefoot it is,” James said.

He opened the door and stepped out the bedroom into the wooden floored passageway. There was a heavenly smell in the air – bacon and eggs. Yum! A door was open directly across from his and the room inside looked exactly identical to the one he’d slept in. There was one difference between his room and this one: the bed was made and there was a yellow raincoat folded on it. James rushed into the room and picked up the raincoat. It was Amy’s! He almost sobbed in relief. She wasn’t dead. She was probably having breakfast with his dad.

James followed the smell of food down the hallway. He entered a dining room with comfy looking couches, a roaring fireplace and a round table piled with food. A door led away to a kitchen and a long entry hall opposite it led to a gilded wooded door. James felt his stomach unknot in relief when he spotted Amy sitting at the round table buttering a slice of toast. Her ginger hair was tied back in a ponytail, she was in the same flowery dress and red jacket she’d been wearing on the boat and her feet were also bare.

“Where’s Dad?” James said.

Amy looked up from her toast, gasped and smiled when she saw her big brother. “Jamie!”

She rushed to James and tackled him with a bear hug, something she never does. Normally James would have pushed her off of him but after that terrible storm dream he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tighter hug.

“I was so worried!” Amy said.

James laughed. “Why would you be worried? I’ve passed out on fishing trips with Dad before. Where’s Dad anyway? Where’re we docked? You won’t believe the crazy dream I had last night. I dreamt we were in a storm and-.”

James stopped talking when Amy trembled in his arms.

“Amy, what’s-?” James began.

“I thought you were dead when Ms Crawley carried you in yesterday,” Amy’s voice carried so much emotion it sent a chill through James. “I thought... I thou- it doesn’t matter. Ms Crawley fixed you like she said she would just like she did with me. She found me on the beach just like she found you.”

“On the beach? But that means-,” James couldn’t finish his sentence.

The storm. The beach. His twisted ankle. It had really happened. But how was he standing? He could barely move last time. That surely couldn’t have been yesterday, could it?

“Where’s Dad?” James said in a soft voice.

Amy sobbed into his chest and he knew. Their father hadn’t washed up on the island with them.

“H-he h-h-held on to me...” Amy stammered as she sobbed. “Even when we l-l-lost you h-he h-h-held me... then th-the w-w-waves pulled us a-a-a-a-a-apart and... he... he... was pulled under... under-.”

The brother and sister dropped onto their knees together and cried holding each other. James’s sobs were soft but Amy’s were hard and loud. It didn’t feel real. How could it be real? How could his father be gone? James’s heart was aching and he was feeling more pain than he thought he was capable of feeling, but knew he would cry harder later. Right now Amy was his priority. She needed him more than ever and he’d have to step up for her. With their father drowned at sea and their boat sunk it would be up to him to look after Amy and keep her safe. Maybe find some way to get them home to their mother if possible. Big brother was going to have to get a bit bigger for both of them.

I swear I won’t let anything happen to you, James thought.

First, he’d to find out where they were.

James lifted his sister’s face to his, wiped her tears with his thumbs and kissed her forehead. “Amy, where’re we?”

Amy sniffed. “We’re on a place called Crystal Island.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” James said.

“Ms Crawley says the world’s forgotten about it,” Amy said. “She calls this the Lost Corner of the World.”

“Who’s Ms Crawley?” James asked.

Amy separated herself from James and sat at the table again, wiping away her tears. “She owns this house. She found me and brought me here and took care of me. I was really sick and she gave me medicine. When I told her about you and Dad she searched the island and found you. Your ankle was broken when she carried you in yesterday and she took care of it. She swore to me she would take care of us and wipe our troubles away.”

James sat next to his sister, pulled out a plate and started piling it with food after wiping away his own tears. He was fighting a lump in his throat that refused to go down.

“Amy, nothing you’re saying makes sense,” James said. “Broken ankles don’t heal overnight. That’s impossible.”

“James, I saw it!” Amy said. “Your foot was bent and turned the wrong way. It was gross! Ms Crawley rubbed a blue cream on you and your foot glowed and turned the right way. And I’ve seen her do other wonderful things! She’s so much better than anything in the storybooks,” Amy leaned in and whispered. “James, Ms Crawley is a fairy.”

James almost choked on his toast and bacon. He barely managed to swallow it safely before speaking. “Amy, there’s no such thing as fairies.”

“Yes there is!” Amy insisted. “Ms Crawley is one! She’s purple and her wings are so beautiful! She says she’s the last of her kind.”

James wanted to argue but he was still a little shaky, very hungry, tired from crying and the earnestness in his sister’s eyes took all energy out of him. “Fine, whatever, let’s just eat, OK? Then you can introduce me to this ‘fairy’ later.”

Amy clearly didn’t like his use of air quotes but she just sighed in exasperation and started eating. James didn’t believe for a moment that this Crawley lady was a fairy but he had to admit she was an incredible cook. The bacon was perfect and she’d prepared every type of egg: fried, boiled, scrambled, even omelettes. There were also muffins, toast, French toast, fruits, sausages, different flavours of juice, tea, and coffee. James ate so much he was surprised his stomach didn’t burst when he was done. Amy said something about Ms Crowley’s magic and healing remedies increasing the body’s appetite but James ignored her. His stomach was full and he felt invigorated. Strangely, the effects of his grief had worn off on him a bit, though not completely. Even Amy’s demeanour seemed a lot lighter after eating. Was it something in the food? James would have to ponder that later. At the moment it was time to act.

“Where’re my shoes?” James said.

“They’re outside,” Amy said. “Mine are too. Ms Crawley has this whole thing about no shoes being worn indoors. She doesn’t even wear any at all.”

“Where’s this lady right now?” James said.

“She’s in the jungle,” Amy said. “She said something about preparing a special stew for us.”

James remembered the jungle from when he woke up from the beach. “What town are we in? How far are we from the jungle?”

Amy said, “There aren’t any towns. Ms Crawley said there used to be a whole village but it’s empty now. We’re on her farm in the middle of the jungle. It’s just us and her.”

James ran his hands through his hair and scratched his head. “No, that can’t be right. There have to be other people here. Where’re the phones and radios? What about boats?”

Amy looked at him. “We’re in the Lost Corner of the World, James. Ms Crawley says we’re lucky the storm even took us this far. She says we’re even luckier to get here alive. I think we’re stuck here.”

James stood and rubbed eyes. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t be. This all felt like a dream, or maybe a nightmare. Had he and Amy not been through enough? First that storm overturned their fishing boat, and then they lost their father and now this? Were they being punished for something? What about their mother back home? Did she even know about the shipwreck or did she think James and Amy were still on the fishing boat with their father? If word has already reached her of the storm, did she think they were lost at sea? Did she think they were dead? Who would she have by her side while she grieved? James couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing her again. It would be like losing two parents. There had to be a way off this island.

“We aren’t the only people here,” James decided. “It’s impossible. There was a wardrobe in my room full of weird clothes. Some even looked modern, sort of. They belong to somebody. We’re going to find out-.”

“Amelia!” a melodious voice called from the entry hall. “I’m hoooooome!”

A buzzing noise hummed through the house.

“In here Ms Crawley!” Amy called. “James is here, too. He finally woke up!”

“That’s splendid, my dear Amelia, simply splendid!” the voice responded, getting closer.

James thought his eyes were going to pop out his eyes when the woman emerged from the entry hall. Her skin was purple just as Amy said and she was wearing a knee-length dress that was dark orange at the hem but grew brighter on the way up to its leafy looking straps. It was decorated with trees and ravens that were moving across the fabric freely, fluttering from branch to branch. A deer galloped around the dress being chased by a wolf. The animals were so detailed James was sure he could’ve touched them and felt fur and feathers. Large, red, blue and silver dragonfly wings fluttered rapidly behind her keeping her suspended off the ground and blowing a slight breeze into the room. The wings flapped so fast it almost looked like two three-coloured rainbows were radiating off of her back. She had a basket full of herbs in her left hand and a wooden staff decorated with rubies in the other hand. James had been expecting an old lady, maybe a grandmother, but this woman’s face hardly had any wrinkles. Her hair was a dark shade of red with a few silver streaks in it, tied up in a bun. She was so beautiful James almost forgot to breathe. When Ms Crawley landed softly on the wooden floor on her bare feet, fresh green grass spread out from where she stood, growing through the room until the entire floor was covered with it. It felt so cool and soft under James’s feet he wanted to lay in it and stare at this beautiful woman with distracting eyes that seemed to change colour every ten seconds.

Even with her feet on the ground Ms Crawley seemed to glide across the floor to James. She brushed her hand on his cheek affectionately, sending a chill down his body.

“My, my, who could this handsome young man be?” Ms Crawley said. “Surely he cannot be young James. He looks too strong and healthy to be the injured boy I carried in last night.”

James felt his face growing hotter the longer this woman spoke to him. His eyes kept darting back and forth between her wings and her ridiculously beautiful face. It was really hard not to stare.

“Um... I,” James’s throat felt very dry and he wished this woman’s mesmerizing eyes would just pick a colour and stick to it. “You have wings.”

“You don’t say,” Amy said sarcastically.

“Oh, these old things?” Ms Crawley said flapping her wings lightly. “I’m surprised anyone still notices them. Have a seat, dear, let me inspect that ankle.”

James was in a daze and nearly fell when he sat back in his chair and let Ms Crawley kneel and inspect his ankle. He barely noticed the food and plates on the table behind him levitating and floating away into the kitchen when she took his foot in her hand and rotated it. She was a fairy. James was looking at an actual fairy.

“This is insane,” James said. “You can’t be real. Magic isn’t- magic-.”

Ms Crawley laughed beautifully and looked up at James flashing him a perfect smile. “Would you like to touch my wings, my dear one? To help you accept the reality?’

James looked at her wings again and saw how they connected to the purple flesh of her back. There was no way those were fake. “No, this is just... a lot to process.”

“How could one so young lose his imagination so early?” Ms Crawley said.

“I’m not that young,” James squeaked and coughed. “I’m fourteen.”

Ms Crawley laughed again, that beautiful laugh James could’ve listened to forever. “Oh you sweet, handsome boy, compared to me you’re very young. I’m almost three thousand years old.”

James blinked a few times. “Did I hear you corr-, three thousand!? You can’t be that old! Look at you!”

“Jamie! Manners!” Amy scolded. “I think what my careless brother’s trying to say is you look very young for your age, Ms Crawley. You’re so pretty.”

Ms Crawley laughed her melodious laugh yet again. “Well thank you, Amelia dear. Perhaps I shall share my beauty secrets with you while you’re here.”

“That would be wonderful!” Amy beamed.

“Speaking of being here,” James hastily pulled his foot out of Ms Crawley’s hands. “How do we leave?”

Ms Crawley looked at James with such sadness he immediately felt guilty ever thinking of returning home. How could he just leave this kind, beautiful woman after all she’d done for him and his little sister?

“You wish to leave me, dear James?” Ms Crawley sounded so sorrowful it broke James’s heart. “Have I driven you away?”

“No! Ms Crawley we would never want to leave you!” Amy said hurriedly.

James blinked and tried to focus on anything else besides this woman’s beautiful and sorrowful face. He turned his gaze to her shoulder. “I’m sorry Ms Crawley. That came out wrong. We’ve nothing against you; it’s... I’ve just learned we lost out father-.”

“I’m deeply sorry for your loss, brave one.”

“And we still have a mother waiting for us back home,” James finished. “We’re all she has left and we have to get to her any way possible.”

Ms Crawley seemed to falter briefly before speaking again. “Such a dutiful son.”

“Mom...” Amelia said dreamily. “Oh James, how did I forget about Mom? I’m terrible.”

James took Amy’s hand as she started to cry again. “You’re not terrible. Not completely terrible, anyway. You’ve just been through a lot, we both have. And now we’re in a freaking fairy’s house for crying out loud. That’s a lot to take in such a short time.”

“Brave James is right, sweet Amelia,” Ms Crawley said. “You children have been through an extraordinary ordeal. You must not be harsh with yourself. Now wipe your tears, dear. I’ll make you some ice cream while you have a hot bath.”

Amelia nodded and wiped her tears.

“Ms Crawley,” James said cautiously. “The wardrobe in my room was full of clothes. Some of them even looked modern. Were there... other people here?”

Ms Crawley sighed. “You’re receptive James. Alas, dear child, there were others here. This island is my home. I was here when my people, the Fae, lived and thrived. Even in those days, the occasional human would wash up on Crystal Island’s shores. Sometimes lost and damaged ships would dock here in search of supplies. Why, even a war plane crashed here once. My people are gone, but yours still find their way here.”

“And they all stayed here?” James said.

Ms Crawley said, “No, dear, I personally saw them all off the island, even the shipwrecked people. They all spent time with me here for a while but eventually I helped them find peace off of this island.”

“Then why are there so many clothes still here?” James asked. “The wardrobe in the bedroom was full.”

“Some of them had luggage when they arrived, dear, and left a few clothes behind when they departed,” Ms Crawley said.

“Can you help us too? Please, Ms Crawley?” James said.

“I had always planned to,” Ms Crawley sighed. “That’s why I was picking herbs and roots from the jungle. For your surprise feast before your departure, but I was not expecting you be ready to leave so soon. I get so lonely here by myself.”

James was so touched Ms Crawley would go through so much trouble for him. He’d never met anyone this thoughtful and selfless. She sounded so sad and James wanted to do nothing but console her. He wanted to keep her company for months, maybe even take her home so he could always be with her.

Before James could suggest anything, Ms Crawley said. “I promise you, I will see you off this island like all those before you. I promise you will never worry about your mother not seeing you or grieve your father’s death again. I’m a fairy and we always keep our promises.”

There was such sincerity in her voice and in her expression that James had no trouble believing her. Ms Crawley would take their troubles away. She really was a fairy.

An hour later the humans and their fairy escort stepped outside. Amy was right about the shoes being outside. Shoes had been lined up all around Ms Crawley’s house: boots, sandals, sneakers, slippers, heels, loafers and many other shoes perfectly clean. James and Amy managed to find their gumboots, also perfectly clean, and slipped them on. Ms Crawley preferred to go barefoot, fluttering a few inches off the ground. She had her basket in her hand, loaded with a few more things she’d collected from the house saying their special feast would be prepared before they depart. She was so thoughtful.

Ms Crawley’s farmhouse looked very different from what James had expected. It looked like a miniature castle with little towers topped with flags, bridges joining the tower and a stone dragon perched on the roof. It was all so foreboding in a way. The farm was quite big with many different animals in their enclosures. As they walked through, James spotted many different herds: cattle, sheep, pigs, goats and horses. There were chickens and rabbits everywhere and a pond full of ducks, geese and swans. The jungle loomed before them, exotic birds flying to and from the tree tops. The sounds of monkeys calling could be heard.

They passed many different and colourful plants as they walked through the jungle. Amy oohed and aahed at the many different animals she spotted: zebras, springbucks, capuchins, parakeets, koalas, and other creatures he didn’t recognize. Ms Crawley sang as she fluttered ahead of them. Her voice was so mesmerizing; her fluttering wings so hypnotic, James felt he would have followed them anywhere. He barely paid attention to where he was stepping. Part of his mind told him to snap out of it and focus on Amy, but another part of it wondered how a woman so old could look so good.

Ms Crawley’s singing stopped abruptly when they entered a wide clearing full of ruined buildings. There were huts, houses and miniature palaces like Ms Crawley’s. The place had clearly been abandoned for a long time. Moss covered the walls, weeds and trees grew through what was left of the buildings and there were pieces of debris everywhere. The air seemed colder here despite the sun shining above them. Even the colour here seemed duller, almost black and white, as if the very life had been sucked out of the place. For the first time since stepping outside, Ms Crawley landed and walked ahead of them. But her steps seemed heavy as she looked around at each broken building she passed. Even her purple skin looked duller. Her hair seemed to untie from its bun and fall down to her shoulders on its own. More silver streaks appeared in it, fading to a dull grey. It was enough to get James to focus on something else.

“Ms Crawley, what is this place?” James asked, surprised by how low his voice was.

“This is the Fae Village, where my people lived,” Ms Crawley’s sadness made her pain sound so fresh, as if the village had been thriving yesterday. “You should’ve seen its vibrancy and beauty when my people were alive. You could breathe the magic in the air as it seeped into the soil. You could feel it in the ground under your feet.”

Amy asked. “What happened to all the other fairies?”

Ms Crawley’s shoulders sagged. “Elves came to Crystal Island. They slaughtered all my people, destroyed the village and left. I was the only survivor.”

Her pain felt so raw even James wanted to cry for her. “Elves are real too? Why did do this?”

“Because elves are cruel and evil,” Ms Crawley’s voice took on a very angry edge to it. It was actually quite frightening. “Never trust an elf, children. Never leave them alone with your family or you will find yourself alone like I have.”

James felt so bad for Ms Crawley. Yes, he’d just lost a father but he still had a mother waiting for him back home. He had extended family. But she had nobody. She’d spent so much time all by herself and yet every time any company washed up on her island she still helped them leave. What a hero. She was so selfless.

They walked down long stone steps winding down a hill, crossed a stone bridge arched over a wide stream and passed a few more houses closer to the jungle.

At last they came to a cave at the end of the village. Two lanterns on bamboo poles were on either side of its entrance. Ms Crawley waved her staff and the lanterns ignited with purple flame. Torches going down the wall inside the cave ignited as well a pair at a time illuminating a path deeper inside.

“This way, children,” Ms Crawley said.

“You want us to go into that spooky cave?” Amy said.

“Ms Crawley, I thought you were getting us off the island,” James said. “Wouldn’t that involve going to the beach?”

Ms Crawley turned to them and James was shocked by the new wrinkles on her face. She seemed to have aged ten years just walking through her home. “This is a short cut, dears. There is powerful magic in this cave and an underground river that leads directly to the beach. From in here I will be able to keep my promise to you and see you off the island without harm. There is no other way.”

Something at the back of James’s head nagged at him to turn around and take his chances at the beach but when he looked into Ms Crawley’s eyes he couldn’t turn away from her. he would follow her anywhere. Another grey streak appeared in the fairy’s hair.

“Ms Crawley, are you feeling OK?” Amy asked with concern. “You’re looking... different.”

“So sweet for asking,” Ms Crawley said. “It’s the grief of visiting my home. Nothing weighs like grief.”

James felt another pang of guilt for this fairy. She did so much for them and yet he had the nerve to doubt her. Ms Crawley entered the cave and James and Amy followed behind her without hesitation. The walls and floor were strangely smooth for a cave, painted with images of fairies flying around what the Fae Village must have looked like before it was ruined. The fairies were a variety of different colours: blue, red, green, pink, and purple. They had different wings from butterfly wings to dragonfly wings to feathered wings. The paintings, like the images on Ms Crawley’s dress, were moving except they were painted even more realistically. Many of the fairy paintings stared at James and Amy as they walked by, stretching their arms out to the children longingly. Somewhere at the back of his head, James knew it should have been unsettling, but then he looked at Ms Crawley ahead of him and he couldn’t stop himself from following her anywhere. The pathway sloped downward as they went deeper and deeper underground. More torches on the wall lit up ahead of them but the end of their path still wasn’t visible. The painted fairies followed them across the cave walls having long abandoned their village painted near the entrance far behind. They continued to stare intently at James and Amy as they followed. They almost seemed hungry to James, but then he looked to Ms Crawley again and forgot all about the paintings stalking them.

Finally, the pathway widened into a wide cavern. Thousands of crystals were embedded into the walls, glowing with a white like that illuminated the cavern so hardly a shadow was cast. A hearth with an old cauldron over it was near the centre of the cavern and directly in the centre was a wide circle of crystals embedded into the smooth stone floor. A long table surrounded by wooden stools was near the cauldron and on top of the table was a knife and chopping board, a mortar and pestle, several bowls and bottles and a large wooden spoon. There was a river at the end of the cavern flowing down a dark tunnel. Several small rafts were tied to a dock on the river’s shore.

“And here we are,” Ms Crawley sounded excited. All past indications of grief had faded away. Her skin and hair had regained their previous glow and the extra wrinkles had vanished though the extra grey hairs just turned silver instead of fading away. Ms Crawley waved at the crystals on the walls. “This is why this place is called Crystal Island. There are thousands of rare crystals underground with special magical properties. The crystals give this island life and are responsible for all the beauty you saw in the jungle. They’re also part of the reason why fairies live as long as we do.”

Ms Crawley fluttered to the centre of the cavern, her feet once again abandoning the ground. She placed her basket on the table, opened it and snapped her fingers. The hearth ignited with fire and various herbs, plants and bottles of liquid floated out of the basket. James and Amy approached the cauldron as the jars of liquid emptied themselves inside and the wooden spoon flew off the table and began mixing them. The herbs and flowers from Ms Crawley’s basket lined themselves up on the chopping board and the knife flew up and began dicing them up into little pieces before they somersaulted into the cauldron. One particularly thick herb flew into the mortar and the pestle began grinding it all on its own. Ms Crawley sang a melodious tune as the cauldron’s concoction prepared itself.

“There are rafts down here,” James said.

“Of course, dear,” Ms Crawley sang. “How else would you expect to get home? And each raft is magic. It will take you wherever I tell it to take you. Now sit, my dears.”

James felt so much hope, felt so close to home, he rushed to his seat, Amy fast behind him. Ms Crawley body was literally glowing purple and deep red as she worked. The stirring concoction began to take on a reddish-purple colour. It filled the cavern with a sweet smell that made James a dizzy in a pleasant way. His head felt so wonderfully light he could float.

“Ms Crawley’s special stew coming right up!” the fairy sang.

Ms Crawley picked up a ladle, scooped up some stew, poured it into two bowls and served them to James and Amy.

“Eat up, my darlings,” Ms Crawley said. “It’s an ancient fairy recipe.”

Under most circumstances, James would never have eaten any strange bowls of glowing, thick, red and purple stew. Normally nothing about that would sound appetizing but for some reason the boy’s mouth watered at the sight of the stew beneath him. The smell overloaded his senses and filled him with so much giddiness he struggled not to giggle. It was as if the big breakfast that morning never happened. James was so ravenous he was sure he could have consumed the full contents of that cauldron. As it turned out, Ms Crawley wasn’t surprised. James and Amy emptied their bowls of their contents very quickly and each time they did, Ms Crawley refilled them. The stew was delicious. Each helping tasted like a different meal: ribs, brownies, popcorn, pizza and more. By the time the cauldron was empty James and Amy were reclining on their chairs and patting their bellies. Neither of them had ever eaten so much in one day the way they had today. James felt so content with life. He couldn’t even remember what he’d been grieving about earlier and he didn’t really care. Life was good with Ms Crawley around.

“Ms Crawley, you didn’t have any stew,” Amy suddenly said.

James sat up straight, which wasn’t easy considering how woozy he felt. “Oh we were so selfish! You made us two nice meals today and you haven’t had anything! We’re so sorry!”

Then James and Amy wept. James was just filled with so much grief for betraying poor Ms Crawley like this. He’d have to repay her. He’d go back to her farm immediately and cook her something. He was no good in the kitchen but for her he would be. Amy stood shakily to her feet as if the same thoughts were on her mind.

“Children, my dear children, it’s quite alright,” Ms Crawley said. “I don’t eat the way you do. We fairies have our own of source of nourishment and I’d planned on feasting before seeing you off. But I require your help.”

Amy said. “Anything!”

All of James’s grief was swept away with powerful relief at the knowledge that he hadn’t betrayed generous Ms Crawley. The incredible joy made him tingle. The joy was so strong he started giggling and Amy joined him. Soon they were laughing, laughing so hard they fell off their stools. The fall had hurt but James was too happy to care.

Ms Crawley wiped a tear from her face. “Oh, it makes me so happy to see you two so eager to help me. I have not feasted in fifty years.”

“Wow and you still look fantastic!” James blurted with a slur. “Not malnourished or anything. I’ll help you eat everyday if I can.”

Ms Crawley patted James’s cheek affectionately. “Sweet boy, I only need to feed once every few years and with the two of you here today I’ll be nourished for a long time.”

James was so happy he was surprised he wasn’t floating to the ceiling. “What do we have to do?”

Ms Crawley grabbed a stool and fluttered next to the crystal circle in the centre of the chamber. It was wide enough to fit a truck and each crystal changed colours every ten seconds.

Ms Crawley set the stool down in front of the crystal circle and sat. “Enter the circle, my dears.”

They needed no convincing. James and Amy stumbled along to the stone table giggling uncontrollably. They were going to help Ms Crawley. James was so delighted, so excited, he would’ve run into the stone circle were he not so dizzy.

When James and Amy stepped over the crystals into the circle, every crystal embedded in the floor turned a deep shade of purple. Suddenly the dizziness, giddiness and giggling wore off and James felt as if he’d been shaken awake violently from a nap. Things he’d forgotten came back to him. His father was dead at sea, he’d silently vowed to care for Amy and they had a mother waiting for them at home. Ms Crawley had promised to take them there and brought them to this cave with small rafts docked at the underground river. But once Ms Crawley started cooking all somehow all that slipped and she’d been his focus until now. What had been in that stew? Why had it made him so crazy?

Amy shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “James, I don’t feel so good.” And she dropped to her knees.

“Amy!” James said and gripped his sister’s shoulders.

Amy heaved as if she was vomiting but nothing came out. James’s head pounded like a beating drum. His stomach churned uncomfortably and he felt nauseated but he managed to control the urge and steady his breathing. Amy, on the other hand, was gripping her stomach and wailing in discomfort, her mouth still open as she vomited out nothing.

“Amy! Amy!” James turned desperately to Ms Crawley. “What’s happening to her?”

Ms Crawley looked oddly younger. Her face was less wrinkled and some of the silver streaks in her hair were fading away.

She sounded very sympathetic when she spoke. “I’m afraid this process is rather uncomfortable, especially for sweet Amelia since she’s so young. The surprise stew unlatches your youth, which brings out so many raw emotions from you. The crystals draw out that unlatched youth and feeds it fairies in this feeding chamber. This is how I feed.”

“You- y-you-,” James stammered and dropped hard on his knees next to Amy.

His body was shaking as he pulled his sister close to him.

“Oh, James, you sound so upset. It hurts,” Ms Crawley said. “Do you regret your promise? Do you not care that I hunger? You promised to help me feed and the only thing I can feed on his human youth. Your very life force, what you have lived and all the potential years you have, is attached to your raw youth and will nourish me for many years before I need to feed again. I’m ever so grateful that the storm spell I conjured to sink your fishing boat brought you and Amy here and not your father. So many adults have killed any youth they have left in them, they’re almost impossible to feed off of. Young people are so much better because they’re youth personified. You still have the spark of hope, wonder and imagination. This is what the Fae thrive on and children have it in abundance!”

Another wrinkle vanished from Ms Crawley’s face. James felt so cold even holding Amy against him. Frosty mist puffed from his mouth when he exhaled. Despite what he was feeling, one thing Ms Crawley said stood out to him.

“St-storm... that... you?” James managed.

“Why, of course, dear,” Ms Crawley said casually. “Nobody enters the Lost Corner of the World by accident. A fairy always causes the events that make it happen. A storm here, a hurricane there. It takes me a few decades to build up enough power since I’m on my own now but-.”

“You... killed... my father!” James panted.

“The storm did that,” Ms Crawley said in a sad, reasonable tone. “I can create the storm and control the direction it moves in but I’m afraid I don’t decide who nature keeps and who nature saves. My sister would have been better at that. Her talent-.”

“You said... but you... broke... your... promise...” James was finding it harder to breathe. “Said... get... us... home... Tricked... us...”

Ms Crawley looked deeply offended. “Oh, James, how could you wound me this way? To accuse me of trickery! To accuse me of breaking my vow! You have never cut me deeper, my dear. Have I not earned your trust after nursing you, feeding you and even sharing the pain of my past with you? I never promised to get you home, dear. I promised to see you off this island like all those before you, and I intend on keeping my word. Once your life force has been drained, you shall be at peace. I shall gather the ashes your bodies will be reduced to, place them in separate jars and send them off the island along the river. The enchantment on the rafts will take your remains to the bottom of the ocean. You will no longer be on Crystal Island. You’ll never worry about your mother not seeing you or grieve your father’s death again. You can neither worry nor mourn once you’ve been consumed. I’m a fairy and we always keep our promises.”

Her words sounded threatening but her tone and expression were filled with such genuine sincerity as if she truly believed she was helping them. She was clearly insane and there’d be no reasoning with her. James wanted to drag Amy out of the stone circle but he felt so weak and could barely keep himself upright. Amy’s eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell rapidly, her mouth still wide open. A few grey streaks had found their way into her ginger hair and James spotted a liver spot on his own hand.

I’m so stupid! James thought. I followed this crazy lady blindly after swearing not to let anything happen to Amy! I’m a terrible brother! Amy, I’m sorry...

A cry of pain filled the cavern and Ms Crawley fell off her stool onto the floor hard.

“You shot me!” She cried. “I can’t believe you struck a woman! And while I was eating! That’s so rude!”

Sprouting from Ms Crawley’s arm was an arrow, the point where it had pierced her flesh was steaming and her blood dripped from the wound onto the stone floor also steaming.

The wet sound of footsteps approached James.

Plop! Plop! Plop!

Soon a tall, thin man in a green poncho with a hood over his head was standing over James. He was soaked wet from head to toe with a longbow in his hand and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back. He briefly looked over James and Amy then turned to Ms Crawley drawing an arrow with a metal tip.

“You!” Ms Crawly hissed pulling out the arrow in her arm. The arrowhead was steaming with her blood but little sparks of light curled their way up her body and around the wound slowly closing it. “This is harassment, attacking a defenseless old lady.”

As an answer, the man nocked and fired his arrow at Ms Crawley’s head. At the last second the fairy dissolved into glowing mist. The mist hissed as the arrow passed through it and bounced off the stone floor breaking. Ms Crawley’s voice sobbed through the mist and wafted away quickly out of the chamber. The man turned around, grabbed James by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of the crystal circle. James felt his strength come back as the man dragged Amy out as well. The grey streaks in her hair and the liver pot on James’s hand remained.

“We need ter ge’ ou’ of here,” The man said in a strange accent. “One iron arrow ain’ never enough ter do the fairy in. We bes’ be gone before she returns.”

James took in a few precious gulps of air, happy to be able to breathe again. “Who are you?”

“Fudland Fuddlefutch,” the man said. “The last Elf Protector.”

“Um... huh?” apparently the surprises would keep piling.

Fudland Fuddlefutch helped Amy to her feet with chocolate brown hands. “Easy there, lass.”

Amy had bags under her weary eyes, her skin was very pale and the ginger parts of her hair had become dull and stringy. The strands were sticking to her sweaty face and neck. James wondered how bad he looked. Judging by the way Amy looked at him, it wasn’t good. Amy ran into James’s arms and squeezed him tight.

“There’ll be time fer that later,” Fudland said. “Let’s be gettin’ ter the river.”

“Why?” Amy’s voice sounded shaky when she spoke.

“Tis the bes’ way ou’ of here, lass,” Fudland said.

“What about the way we came in?” James said. “It’s clear!”

“Oh, yer think tha’ do yer?” Fudland said. “Crawley’s a fairy, lad. Her magic won’ le’ us ou’ tha’ way. The only way in and ou’ is the river. Now come.”

Fudland approached the river, his brown, bare feet plopping across the floor. Amy was about to follow him but James grabbed her hand and pulled her close.

“How do we know we can trust you?” James tried to sound brave but his voice cracked at the end of his sentence. “Are you really an elf? Ms Crawley said we should never trust elves, especially around our families.”

Fudland turned around halfway to the river and faced James and Amy. “Are yer really going ter trus’ the word of a fairy tha’ tried ter eat yer soul?”

“Well... no, but...” James scratched the back of his head. “The last person to help us did this to my sister!” James lifted some of Amy’s grey strands.

Fudland sighed, reached into his poncho and pulled out a large, sheathed knife. He slid it across the floor to James’s feet. “Take this. If I try ter kill yer, stab me. Now come along or wai’ fer Crawley ter return. Yer choice.”

Fudland turned back around and approached the river again. James picked up the knife, unsheathed it briefly to examine its wicked blade, re-sheathed it then tucked it into his belt. He joined Fudland at the river docks, never letting go of Amy’s hand.

“I don’ imagine yer have the strength ter swim,” Fudland said. “Yer two are small enough ter share a raf’. Hop aboard.”

James protested. “But they’ll take us to the bottom of the ocean!”

Fudland began untying one of the rafts. “The river will surface above ground fer a long way across the island before it reaches the ocean, lad. And the raf’s won’ go underwater ‘til they’re off the island. Yer safe fer now on ‘em.”

Without much choice, James and Amy climbed onto the raft and Fudland let go of their rope. The raft immediately floated forward toward the dark tunnel. James held Amy close to him determined to take better care of her this time. There was a splash behind them and seconds later Fudland was sitting next to them on a raft of his own with his longbow slung over his shoulder. The rafts floated into the tunnel engulfing them in darkness.

There was not a sound in the dark tunnel except for the sound of rushing water and James and Amy’s laboured breathing.

“I expect yer have questions,” Fudland said in the dark.

“So many!” James said. “And I don’t know where to start.”

“Perhaps telling yer me story will answer some of yer questions,” Fudland said. “I don’ know what Crawley told yer, but I’m sure t’was shrouded in twisted truths. Eons ago, this island was inhabited with fairies. Normal food wasn’ enough for ‘em anymore so they started conjuring terrible storms, crashing ships, gathering up the shipwrecked and feeding on their youth ter live forever. They targeted children like yerselves the mos’ and their power grew the more they fed themselves. They even sunk the city of Atlantis, forcing the surviving citizens to sail to Crystal Island for safety. Then the fairies fed of ‘em. We elves, friends of all man, decided we’d had enough. So we go’ on our ship and sailed ter this here island to stop the fairies before another home was destroyed like Atlantis. We armed ourselves with iron, harmful ter fairies, and stormed their village once here. The fairies were powerful bu’ we outnumbered ‘em. Hundreds of elves attacked and only 20 survived, meself included. We was preparing our dead fer burial when the last surviving Fae, disguised as a tree, attacked us. We were so tired and unprepared and she slaughtered us all weeping abou’ how we were rude ter attack without provocation, screaming that the Fae never wronged Elvenland. I only escaped because me brother shielded me with his body when she threw a curse at me, bu’ I didn’t get away unharmed. Some of tha’ curse got in me eyes and I was blinded.”

“You’re blind?” Amy said, horrified.

“You don’t shoot those arrows like you’re blind,” James said.

“When a man loses his sigh’ his other senses are heightened ter compensate,” Fudland said. “Elf senses are already heightened so mine heightened even more when I los’ me eyes. I healed and learned ter see the world through me other senses. I can feel the vibrations in the ground, can hear ants marching underground, can smell everything around me and I’m sensitive ter the change in temperature, air pressure and light and shadow. Helps me see the world around me in ways me eyes never could. Made me a better sho’ with me bow and I can see through all the wench’s disguises now. Improved me sense of direction. Even magic has vibrations so I can feel which the parts of the jungle Crawley cursed ter keep me out.”

“Incredible!” James said. “Could your senses also help you get home on your ship?”

“Aye! Just by feeling the direction of the sunlight and the vibrations from the crashing waves I’d know me way home,” Fudland said.

“So why stay here?” Amy said.

“Crawley,” Fudland said. “The Elf Protectors took an oath not ter return home until man was safe from the fairies. A fairy still lives, bringing children here every few decades. It’s me duty ter rescue t’em, kill the fairy and ge’ ‘em home. I’ve been doing this fer nine hundred years and never succeeded. Bu’ today, fer the firs’ time I’ve finally managed ter rescue somebody before the fairy could consume ‘em. I’ve tried many times bu’ the magic shields around Crawley’s farm and her path to tha’ cursed cave. Bu’ ten years ago I found a in: the river. The river is magic free so the raf’s can sale out with new ashes. So when I learned yer washed up on the island I knew t’was only a matter of time before she tried ter ea’ yer youth. I waited and once she started bringing you ter tha’ cave I swam up the river into tha’ cavern and waited fer the bes’ momen’ ter save yer. The moment the wench would be her mos’ vulnerable: when she’s feeding.”

“You saved us,” Amy said. “Thank you.”

“You stayed here this long and gave up your life for this,” James said. “Wow.”

The tunnel got lighter as they approached its end.

“I’m bound ter me oath,” Fudland said. “Protectors all knew the risks coming here. Finding yer kids made nine hundred years of failure finally worth i’.”

At last they exited the tunnel and the light was harsh to their eyes after being in so much darkness but the warmth of the sun was very welcome. Fudland’s hood must’ve come off at some point in the tunnel because his face was visible. His hair was a thick, twisted, messy afro of black hair and his face looked like it had once been handsome but it was covered with dozens of scars, the worst being the burn scar across his eyes, cheek tops and where he once had eyebrows. He’d have been frightening to look at but he flashed a smile at James and Amy that was so kind, so warm, it made the memory of Ms Crawley’s smile seem creepy in comparison.

Fudland hopped off his raft and swam to shore; James and Amy followed him.

“We’re no’ far from the beach,” Fudland said. “Me ship is hidden in a cave. No doub’ the fairy will be searching the jungle looking fer yer so I’ll have ter keep her distracted so yer can ge’ ter the boat. I’ll tell yer how ter find it.”

“You can’t leave us!” Amy said. “What if she finds us?”

“If we stay together she’ll track us easier with her magic,” Fudland said. “I need ter bait her. Trust me.”

Fifteen minutes later James and Amy emerged from the jungle onto the beach alone. This part of the beach was different from the one James remembered. There were a few shrubs and trees dotted around the area sprouting up from little islands of grass on the sand.

“There it is!” Amy pointed to some rocks jutting out of the ocean not too far off from the beach. “That’s got to be where Fudland’s boat is!”

“Come on! Who knows how long it’ll take him to lure out Ms Crawley,” James said. “We can swim to it while he distracts her.”

They ran across the beach and dived into the cold ocean water, swimming forward against the waves before their bodies could adjust to the temperature. They didn’t make it very far before Amy yelped in surprise.

“James!”

James turned and saw Amy lifted into the air above the water. Before he could respond he was lifted up as well and tumbling through the air like laundry. He crashed into the sand next to Amy and a shadow passed over them as they pushed themselves up to their knees. Ms Crawley swooped down and landed on the beach in front of them. Her arrow wound was gone, she was gripping her ruby encrusted wooden staff in her hand and she had with a look of deep disappointment on her face, tears flowing.

“Children, you would leave me?” she said. “I cared for you. I shared my pain-.”

“You killed our father!” James spat. “You tried to eat us!”

“That was the storm!” Ms Crawley said earnestly. “Have a heart! I lost my whole family to the elves. And why would I eat you? That’s cannibalism, how ghastly. I just wanted to consume your life force. That’s all. You promised to help me feed.”

Ms Crawley waved her staff and a wave of sand rose and washed over them like an ocean wave, knocking them and submerging them from their feet to their shoulders. James and Amy struggled to break free but the sand hardened around them.

“Fortunately for all of us, the potion is still at work in you and I have already consumed parts of your life force so it will be easier for me to continue even outside the feeding chamber. It’s better this way.”

“Not for us,” James said.

Ms Crawley frowned. “I don’t see why not, dear. The view is great, you’re getting fresh air and you got to have a refreshing swim. It’s a nice way to go. Thank you, my dears. I love you.”

Ms Crawley stooped over them and raised her staff as they struggled. The rubies began to glow and James felt himself begin to weaken.

And arrow sprouted from Ms Crawley’s shoulder and she let out a blood curdling scream dropping her staff as steam rose from her fresh wound. James felt the sand soften around him and he pulled the knife out from his belt and lunged forward driving it into Ms Crawley’s lap

Ms Crawley cried out in agony and looked at James with absolute betrayal. “WHY?”

“That’s for my father!” James said.

“Unfair!” a burst of light from Ms Crawley’s body sent James and Amy flying into the surf.

When they emerged they saw Ms Crawley rising into the air sobbing and launching fireballs from her staff at Fudland who dodged them swiftly across the sand moving toward a log lying in the sand with a rope tied around its branch reaching into the ground. Fudland drew and fired an arrow at the log and it severed the rope. Ms Crawley wailed like a banshee and a mound of sand rose from the beach like a giant fist.

“Take cover!” Fudland shouted as the sand fist came down on him.

Loud clicks and snaps sounded from the trees and bushes around the beach. Dozens of arrows shot up from the bushes and branches in every direction and Ms Crawley was hovering in the centre of it, horrified. James turned Amy’s face away and submerged them both into the water, shielding her with his body as arrows rained down around them. Ms Crawley’s scream sent a chill through both of them. When they emerged again the beach was steaming and covered with arrows.

“Stay here,” James instructed Amy and walked to a writhing mound of blood, clothing, arrows and sand.

Ms Crawley wasn’t looking very pretty anymore with dozens of arrows in her. As James stood over her he was glad his potion had wiped away any food from his stomach or he would’ve vomited at the sight of her.

Miss Crawley strained and turned her eyes toward him, her tears mixing with her steaming blood. “James... How could you trick me?”

Her body went limp and dissolved into purple and red dust. Wind blew it away leaving nothing but staff which was also beginning to crumble and a ruined dress where the image of the wolf had finally succeeded in catching its prey as the ravens flew away.

There was a pained grunt to James’s far right and Fudland emerged from the sand gasping and spitting.

“Glad you’re alright,” James said. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Aye,” Fudland said. “Se’ those traps years ago. Never thought I’d ge’ a chance ter use ‘em. I never told yer ‘cos I was unsure of yer acting skills. Needed yer reactions ter be authentic or Crawley would know something’s afoot. If she saw me with yer she’d be more cautious. Letting her think I was searching in the jungle was the best way ter get her ter lower her guard. Come. We have sailing ter do.”

Fudland’s ship was big and quite clean for a vessel belonging to a blind man. But after watching the way he handled the ropes and sails as they sailed across the sea, James had no doubt cleaning it was simple for the elf. Amy sat with James on the top deck resting with her head in his lap. Her hair had regained its bright colour and the liver spot had vanished from James’s hand. Fudland said they were going to stop at Elvenland first to report to his people on his mission and the outcome. From there, the elves would help James and Amy get home to their mother. It had already been three days since they’d left Crystal Island and Fudland had been teaching James how to fire a bow and Amy how to dance like an elf. He was also impressed with James’s own sailing and fishing skills. It had certainly been quite an eventful and traumatic adventure. Fudland said they would see many wonderful and magical things while they sailed through the Lost Corner of the World and they’d certainly seen their fair share like merpeople, griffins and an island of horsemen. There would certainly be many stories to tell once they got home, but none of that mattered to James. What mattered now above all magic was being with his mother again and taking in her scent as he hugged her.

James stroked his sister’s hair. “I love you Amy.”

“Love you too,” Amy said.

“Land approaching!” Fudland said. “One hour to Elvenland!”

They were closer to home. The greatest adventure was yet to come.

#fairies #fairy tales #siblings #short stories #elves #my writing #writing

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readbookywooks · 8 years ago

Text

TRAVELS WITHOUT THE SUN

"WHO's there?" shouted the three travellers. "I am the Warden of the Marches of Underland, and with me stand a hundred Earthmen in arms," came the reply. "Tell me quickly who you are and what is your errand in the Deep Realm?" "We fell down by accident," said Puddleglum, truthfully enough. "Many fall down, and few return to the sunlit lands," said the voice. "Make ready now to come with me to the Queen of the Deep Realm." "What does she want with us?" asked Scrubb cautiously. "I do not know," said the voice. "Her will is not to be questioned but obeyed." While he said these words there was a noise like a soft explosion and immediately a cold light, grey with a little blue in it, flooded the cavern. All hope that the speaker had been idly boasting when he spoke of his hundred armed followers died at once. Jill found herself blinking and staring at a dense crowd. They were of all sizes, from little gnomes barely a foot high to stately figures taller than men. All carried three-pronged spears in their hands, and all were dreadfully pale, and all stood as still as statues. Apart from that, they were very different; some had tails and others not, some wore great beards and others had very round, smooth faces, big as pumpkins. There were long, pointed noses, and long, soft noses like small trunks, and great blobby noses. Several had single horns in the middle of their foreheads. But in one respect they were all alike: every face in the whole hundred was as sad as a face could be. They were so sad that, after the first glance, Jill almost forgot to be afraid of them. She felt she would like to cheer them up. "Well!" said Puddleglum, rubbing his hands. "This is just what I needed. If these chaps don't teach me to take a serious view of life, I don't know what will. Look at that fellow with the walrus moustache - or that one with the - " "Get up," said the leader of the Earthmen. There was nothing else to be done. The three travellers scrambled to their feet and joined hands. One wanted the touch of a friend's hand at a moment like that. And the Earthmen came all round them, padding on large, soft feet, on which some had ten toes, some twelve, and others none. "March," said the Warden: and march they did. The cold light came from a large ball on the top of a long pole, and the tallest of the gnomes carried this at the head of the procession. By its cheerless rays they could see that they were in a natural cavern; the walls and roof were knobbed, twisted, and gashed into a thousand fantastic shapes, and the stony floor sloped downward as they proceeded. It was worse for Jill than for the others, because she hated dark, underground places. And when, as they went on, the cave got lower and narrower, and when, at last, the light-bearer stood aside, and the gnomes, one by one, stooped down (all except the very smallest ones) and stepped into a little dark crack and disappeared, she felt she could bear it no longer. "I can't go in there, I can't! I can't! I won't," she panted. The Earthmen said nothing but they all lowered their spears and pointed them at her. "Steady, Pole," said Puddleglum. "Those big fellows wouldn't be crawling in there if it didn't get wider later on. And there's one thing about this underground work, we shan't get any rain." "Oh, you don't understand. I can't," wailed Jill. "Think how 1 felt on that cliff, Pole," said Scrubb. "You go first, Puddleglum, and I'll come after her." "That's right," said the Marsh-wiggle, getting down on his hands and knees. "You keep a grip of my heels, Pole, and Scrubb will hold on to yours. Then we'll all be comfortable." "Comfortable!" said Jill. But she got down and they crawled in on their elbows. It was a nasty place. You had to go flat on your face for what seemed like half an hour, though it may really have been only five minutes. It was hot. Jill felt she was being smothered. But at last a dim light showed ahead, the tunnel grew wider and higher, and they came out, hot, dirty, and shaken, into a cave so large that it scarcely seemed like a cave at all. It was full of a dim, drowsy radiance, so that here they had no need of the Earthmen's strange lantern. The floor was soft with some kind of moss and out of this grew many strange shapes, branched and tall like trees, but flabby like mushrooms. They stood too far apart to make a forest; it was more like a park. The light (a greenish grey) seemed to come both from them and from the moss, and it was not strong enough to reach the roof of the cave, which must have been a long way overhead. Across the mild, soft, sleepy place they were now made to march. It was very sad, but with a quiet sort of sadness like soft music. Here they passed dozens of strange animals lying on the turf, either dead or asleep, Jill could not tell which. These were mostly of a dragonish or bat-like sort; Puddleglum did not know what any of them were. "Do they grow here?" Scrubb asked the Warden. He seemed very surprised at being spoken to, but replied, "No. They are all beasts that have found their way down by chasms and caves, out of Overland into the Deep Realm. Many come down, and few return to the sunlit lands. It is said that they will all wake at the end of the world." His mouth shut like a box when he had said this, and in the great silence of that cave the children felt that they would not dare to speak again. The bare feet of the gnomes, padding on the deep moss, made no sound. There was no wind, there were no birds, there was no sound of water. There was no sound of breathing from the strange beasts. When they had walked for several miles, they came to a wall of rock, and in it a low archway leading into another cavern. It was not, however, so bad as the last entrance and Jill could go through it without bending her head. It brought them into a smaller cave, long and narrow, about the shape and size of a cathedral. And here, filling almost the whole length of it, lay an enormous man fast asleep. He was far bigger than any of the giants, and his face was not like a giant's, but noble and beautiful. His breast rose and fell gently under the snowy beard which covered him to the waist. A pure, silver light (no one saw where it came from) rested upon him. "Who's that?" asked Puddleglum. And it was so long since anyone had spoken, that Jill wondered how he had the nerve. "That is old Father Time, who once was a King in Overland," said the Warden. "And now he has sunk down into the Deep Realm and lies dreaming of all the things that are done in the upper world. Many sink down, and few return to the sunlit lands. They say he will wake at the end of the world." And out of that cave they passed into another, and then into another and another, and so on till Jill lost count, but always they were going downhill and each cave was lower than the last, till the very thought of the weight and depth of earth above you was suffocating. At last they came to a place where the Warden commanded his cheerless lantern to be lit again. Then they passed into a cave so wide and dark that they could see nothing of it except that right in front of them a strip of pale sand ran down into still water. And there, beside a little jetty, lay a ship without mast or sail but with many oars. They were made to go on board her and led forward to the bows where there was a clear space in front of the rowers' benches and a seat running round inside the bulwarks. "One thing I'd like to know," said Puddleglum, "is whether anyone from our world - from up-a-top, I mean has ever done this trip before?" "Many have taken ship at the pale beaches," replied the Warden, "and-" "Yes, I know," interrupted Puddleglum. "And few return to the sunlit lands. You needn't say it again. You are a chap of one idea, aren't you?" The children huddled close together on each side of Puddleglum. They had thought him a wet blanket while they were still above ground, but down here he seemed the only comforting thing they had. Then the pale lantern was hung up amidships, the Earthmen sat to the oars, and the ship began to move. The lantern cast its light only a very short way. Looking ahead, they could see nothing but smooth, dark water, fading into absolute blackness. "Oh, whatever will become of us?" said Jill despairingly. "Now don't you let your spirits down, Pole," said the Marsh-wiggle. "There's one thing you've got to remember. We're back on the right lines. We were to go under the Ruined City, and we are under it. We're following the instructions again." Presently they were given food - flat, flabby cakes of some sort which had hardly any taste. And after that, they gradually fell asleep. But when they woke, everything was just the same; the gnomes still rowing, the ship still gliding on, still dead blackness ahead. How often they woke and slept and ate and slept again, none of them could ever remember. And the worst thing about it was that you began to feel as if you had always lived on that ship, in that darkness, and to wonder whether sun and blue skies and wind and birds had not been only a dream. They had almost given up hoping or being afraid about anything when at last they saw lights ahead: dreary lights, like that of their own lantern. Then, quite suddenly, one of these lights came close and they saw that they were passing another ship. After that they met several ships. Then, staring till their eyes hurt, they saw that some of the lights ahead were shining on what looked like wharfs, walls, towers, and moving crowds. But still there was hardly any noise. "By Jove," said Scrubb. "A city!" and soon they all saw that he was right. But it was a queer city. The lights were so few and far apart that they would hardly have done for scattered cottages in our world. But the little bits of the place which you could see by the lights were like glimpses of a great seaport. You could make out in one place a whole crowd of ships loading or unloading; in another, bales of stuff and warehouses; in a third, walls and pillars that suggested great palaces or temples; and always, wherever the light fell, endless crowds - hundreds of Earthmen, jostling one another as they padded softly about their business in narrow streets, broad squares, or up great flights of steps. Their continued movement made a sort of soft, murmuring noise as the ship drew nearer and nearer; but there was not a song or a shout or a bell or the rattle of a wheel anywhere. The City was as quiet, and nearly as dark, as the inside of an ant-hill. At last their ship was brought alongside a quay and made fast. The three travellers were taken ashore and marched up into the City. Crowds of Earthmen, no two alike, rubbed shoulders with them in the crowded streets, and the sad light fell on many sad and grotesque faces. But no one showed any interest in the strangers. Every gnome seemed to be as busy as it was sad, though Jill never found what they were so busy about. But the endless moving, shoving, hurrying, and the soft pad-pad-pad went on. At last they came to what appeared to be a great castle, though few of the windows in it were lighted. Here they were taken in and made to cross a courtyard, and to climb many staircases. This brought them in the end to a great murkily lit room. But in one corner of it - oh joy! - there was an archway filled with a quite different sort of light; the honest, yellowish, warm light of such a lamp as humans use. What showed by this light inside the archway was the foot of a staircase which wound upward between walls of stone. The light seemed to come from the top. Two Earthmen stood one on each side of the arch like sentries, or footmen. The Warden went up to these two, and said, as if it were a password: "Many sink down to the Underworld." "And few return to the sunlit lands," they answered, as if it were the countersign. Then all three put their heads together and talked. At last one of the two gnomes-in-waiting said, "I tell you the Queen's grace is gone from hence on her great affair. We had best keep these top dwellers in strait prison till her homecoming. Few return to the sunlit lands." At that moment the conversation was interrupted by what seemed to Jill the most delightful noise in the world. It came from above, from the top of the staircase; and it was a clear, ringing, perfectly human voice, the voice of a young man. "What coil are you keeping down there, Mullugutherum?" it shouted. "Overworlders, ha! Bring them up to me, and that presently." "Please it your Highness to remember," began Mullugutherum, but the voice cut him short. "It pleases my Highness principally to be obeyed, old mutterer. Bring them up," it called. Mullugutherum shook his head, motioned to the travellers to follow and began going up the staircase. At every step the light increased. There were rich tapestries hanging on the walls. The lamplight shone golden through thin curtains at the staircase-head. The Earthmen parted the curtains and stood aside. The three passed in. They were in a beautiful room, richly tapestried, with a bright fire on a clean hearth, and red wine and cut glass sparkling on the table. A young man with fair hair rose to greet them. He was handsome and looked both bold and kind, though there was something about his face that didn't seem quite right. He was dressed in black and altogether looked a little bit like Hamlet. "Welcome, Overworlders," he cried. "But stay a moment! I cry you mercy! I have seen you two fair children, and this, your strange governor, before. Was it not you three that met me by the bridge on the borders of Ettinsmoor when I rode there by my Lady's side?" "Oh... you were the black knight who never spoke?" exclaimed Jill. "And was that lady the Queen of Underland?" asked Puddleglum, in no very friendly voice. And Scrubb, who was thinking the same, burst out, "Because if it was, I think she was jolly mean to send us off to a castle of giants who intended to eat us. What harm had we ever done her, I should like to know?" "How?" said the Black Knight with a frown. "If you were not so young a warrior, Boy, you and I must have fought to the death on this quarrel. I can hear no words against my Lady's honour. But of this you may be assured, that whatever she said to you, she said of a good intent. You do not know her. She is a nosegay of all virtues, as truth, mercy, constancy, gentleness, courage, and the rest. I say what I know. Her kindness to me alone, who can in no way reward her, would make an admirable history. But you shall know and love her hereafter. Meanwhile, what is your errand in the Deep Lands?" And before Puddleglum could stop her, Jill blurted out, "Please we are trying to find Prince Rilian of Narnia." And then she realized what a frightful risk she had taken; these people might be enemies. But the Knight showed no interest. "Rilian? Narnia?" he said carelessly. "Narnia? What land is that? I have never heard the name. It must be a thousand leagues from those parts of the Overworld that I know. But it was a strange fantasy that brought you seeking this - how do you call him? - Billian? Trillian? in my Lady's realm. Indeed, to my certain knowledge, there is no such man here." He laughed very loudly at this, and Jill thought to herself, "I wonder is that what's wrong with his face? Is he a bit silly?" "We had been told to look for a message on the stones of the City Ruinous," said Scrubb. "And we saw the words UNDER ME." The Knight laughed even more heartily than before. "You were the more deceived," he said. "Those words meant nothing to your purpose. Had you but asked my Lady, she could have given you better counsel. For those words are all that is left of a longer script, which in ancient times, as she well remembers, expressed this verse: Though under Earth and throneless now I be, Yet, while I lived, all Earth was under me. From which it is plain that some great king of the ancient giants, who lies buried there, caused this boast to be cut in the stone over his sepulchre; though the breaking up of some stones, and the carrying away of others for new buildings, and the filling up of the cuts with rubble, has left only two words that can still be read. Is it not the merriest jest in the world that you should have thought they were written to you?" This was like cold water down the back to Scrubb and Jill; for it seemed to them very likely that the words had nothing to do with their quest at all, and that they had been taken in by a mere accident. "Don't you mind him," said Puddleglum. "There are no accidents. Our guide is Aslan; and he was there when the giant King caused the letters to be cut, and he knew already all things that would come of them; including this." "This guide of yours must be a long liver, friend," said the Knight with another of his laughs. Jill began to find them a little irritating. "And it seems to me, Sir," answered Puddleglum, "that this Lady of yours must be a long liver too, if she remembers the verse as it was when they first cut it." "Very shrewd, Frog-face," said the Knight, clapping Puddleglum on the shoulder and laughing again. "And you have hit the truth. She is of divine race, and knows neither age nor death. I am the more thankful to her for all her infinite bounty to such a poor mortal wretch as I. For you must know, Sirs, I am a man under most strange afflictions, and none but the Queen's grace would have had patience with me. Patience, said I? But it goes far beyond that. She has promised me a great kingdom in Overland, and, when I am king, her own most gracious hand in marriage. But the tale is too long for you to hear fasting and standing. Hi there, some of you! Bring wine and Updwellers' food for my guests. Please you, be seated, gentlemen. Little maiden, sit in this chair. You shall hear it all."

#SilverChair

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