A Web Novel by Bridgett Kay
Book I
Robin of the Round
“If you please, your majesty, there is a boon I would ask of the fairy court.”
Gareth turned to look at me- his eyes wide with surprise- and opened his mouth to speak. At that moment, I heard a loud chime, as though a great church bell were ringing out, and Gareth smiled wryly.
“Your request will have to wait, Julia. It’s time to return.”
Then there was a gust of wind that swept through the ballroom, scattering a blinding cloud of glitter. All at once the shining ballroom was blotted out by darkness, and then the wind died until it was nothing but a tiny puffing near my ear.
The puffing continued, grew louder, became a huffing, and then something soft nudged me. I opened my eyes, blinked away the dazzling light, and saw a pig rooting at the earth next to me.
“Hen Wen! Not those ones. They’re poisonous,” I heard a young girl’s voice cry.
I sat up, blinked a few more times, and saw that I was in my garden, once more. I was lying in the center of the toadstool ring where I had fallen- was it the night before? Yes, I thought, for the sun was still low on the eastern horizon.
“Hen We-” the girl began again, and then she stopped abruptly. Megan Awbrey, the vicar’s youngest daughter, was standing at the edge of the toadstool ring, her straw-colored hair windblown, and her blue eyes wide with shock.
“Miss Julia- oh, Miss Julia, you are beautiful. But your dress! Hen Wen, come here- her dress will be ruined.”
I looked down and saw, to my surprise, that I was wearing a shimmering, gossamer gown covered only by an iridescent wrap.
“Did you spend the night at a ball?” Megan asked as I stood. “I think your gown is alright. I don’t see any tears or stains. Oh! I can’t wait until I am old enough to attend a ball.”
I brushed the dry grass and leaves from my skirt, my mind spinning. I was still dreaming- I had to bedreaming. Yet the earth was solid under my feet, and the brisk wind cold enough to raise gooseflesh under my thin wrap. I could smell the frost and the soil- it was the real and unmistakable scent of my garden.
“Miss Julia? Are you alright?” Megan said, this time falteringly.
“Yes,” I said weakly. And then, in a stronger voice, “mind Hen Wen- she’s getting into the toadstools.”
“Hen Wen!” Megan cried, and tugged at the pig to no avail. Then she stepped away and took a biscuit from her pocket. “Come Hen Wen- it’s your favorite. Come, and I will give you my last biscuit.”
The pig stopped rooting around the fairy-ring and trotted off after Megan, who waved at me as she ran home.
I looked down at myself again. No matter how long I stared, my impossible dress remained, rustling in the wind.
I had dreamed of fairyland, but gowns don’t follow people from dreams to reality. I did not feel as though I were dreaming, but it could be a dream- one more vivid than any I’d ever experienced before, certainly, but it could still be a dream.
If it was a dream, then why did I feel so tired, as though I’d been up all night?
I tried opening my eyes again, and found they were already open.
I turned and walked toward the house, pulling my thin wrap closer around my body. Even if I was dreaming, I still could not wake up, so the only thing to do was to continue.
I walked in through the front door instead of the kitchen doors, to avoid any awkward questions from Elen, the cook. I crept through the bare stone vestibule, through the main hall, and up the stairs. I had just reached my bedroom door when the door to my father’s room opened, and he spotted me.
“Good morning, Julia,” he said. He spoke brightly, though he leaned on his cane slightly as he walked to meet me.
I forgot all about my strange dress as I watched my father approach. The newlywed glow that had been sustaining him seemed to have vanished. His dark eyes were shadowed, and his unfashionably long hair lay lank and greasy on his shoulders. His formerly rosy cheeks were pale, and his usually subtle limp was exaggerated as he pulled his thin frame forward.
“You have not been eating as you should, Tad,” I said firmly, dispensing with morning pleasantries.
He smiled sheepishly and seemed to make an effort to lean on his cane with a nonchalant air. “You know how the love-addled lose their appetite.”
“Ych! Please don’t speak of such things to me, or I will lose my appetite.” I took his arm, and he leaned into me as we walked. “Have you run out of liniment for your leg?”
“Well, no,” he began. “Actually, I wanted to know if you’d seen the medicine chart. I took a tincture or two last night to sleep, but I can’t recall if the liniment would interact badly.”
“One sleep tincture is more than enough,” I chided gently.
“Oh- I only took one sleep tincture, but I also took one for the headache- the one in the blue bottle,” he said.
“That’s willow bark, and you shouldn’t have taken it with the sleep tincture. The liniment should be fine, though. Did you sleep?”
“I did- until about four this morning,” he admitted. “I will feel rested enough after I’ve had some tea; don’t let my appearance disturb you. Speaking of appearances- you, Julia, are looking very pert. Is that a new gown?”
“Yes, it is,” I said truthfully.
“You were on your way to show Catherine, weren’t you? I suppose she will want to approve the dress for your first ball, though I can’t imagine her saying no to this one.” He paused as we reached the top of the stairs, and then said more softly, “I am glad, Julia, that she’s arrived to guide you properly. I have neglected my duties as your guardian.”
“None of that- I’ve been happiest at home, away from the marriage market,” I said stoutly. “Besides, who else could run the gardens?”
“That duty should not have fallen solely to you,” he said, a sad smile creeping into his eyes. “But I have been selfish. I haven’t wanted to let you go.”
“You were not keeping me here- I was. I’ve been a woman for a good long while, and if I’d wanted to attend balls, you could not stop me.”
Father laughed heartily at this and, seeming to gather a little strength, took the banister and descended the stairs with an even gait.
“I have been quite blessed. I don’t know what I would have done with an obedient, manageable daughter. For my sake, though, please don’t give Catherine a hard time. She isn’t used to our ways, and she’s really trying her best.”
Father and I fell silent until we reached the sitting room, where Catherine was examining a stack of papers.
“My love,” Father said to Catherine as we entered, “I believe your work will not be in vain. Julia is ready for her first ball, already. I challenge you to find any fault with her looks or her gown.”
Catherine looked up, her pale eyebrows raised in surprise. Then she put the papers aside and stood, examining me with a critical eye as though taking my father’s challenge seriously.
“It is a fine gown,” she said, “but you simply must manage that hair. Is that…” she reached out and pulled a dried leaf from my hair, and then frowned at me as I blushed.
My father, however, laughed heartily. “I’m sure you can do something with her hair, when she’s out of the wind and soil for an evening. By the way, my dear, have you seen the medicine chart? It was pinned on the washbasin.”
Catherine turned to the stack of papers and pulled out the chart, handing it to my father. “I was looking through all of Julia’s books and papers. Her tutor will be here soon, and I must know how much work is to be done.”
Catherine turned back to me. “Julia, you hardly have enough time to find a clean frock and brush your hair, as I asked.”
I nodded, and then retreated to my room, eager to remove the evidence of… whatever had occurred last night.
#
The anomalous gown was stowed in the back of my wardrobe, I was wearing a clean skirt and apron, and my hair was brushed and plaited down my back. I had restored normality, and stood ready to face my stepmother and tutor with my equilibrium intact.
I took a deep breath, opened the sitting room door, and came face to face with the fairy from my dream.
She was not dressed in the elaborate robes of a fairy, and no wings protruded from her back, but her deep green eyes and unnaturally vibrant red hair were unmistakable. She smiled serenely even as I gasped aloud.
“R-Robin?”
“Julia, thank you for being presentable, if not punctual,” Catherine said, standing to meet me. “This is Miss Aderyn, your new tutor. Miss Aderyn, this is Miss Lloyd.”
Robin curtseyed. I stood gaping for a few moments, and then I caught Catherine’s frown of disapproval and remembered myself.
“How do you do,” I said, curtseying.
Catherine motioned for us to sit, and I entered the room, sitting hard on the sofa beside Robin.
I could hear Robin chuckle just under her breath as Catherine poured tea. I closed my eyes, my cheeks burning, and took a deep breath. A thought came to me- something I had considered the night before. Was I dazed because of actual shock, or dazed because I thought I ought to be shocked? Either way, I could not continue as I was, for Robin to mock me and Catherine to belittle me.
I took another deep breath, opened my eyes, and accepted a cup of tea.
“I have been reviewing all of your journals, Julia,” Catherine said, “and I am pleased to find you have exaggerated your own ignorance. You can read and write well. Your hand is quite adequate.”
“I never claimed ignorance,” I protested. “Where did you find my journals?”
“In your bedroom, of course,” Catherine said. “They weren’t organized at all, and much of what you write is somewhat esoteric, with regards to botany and geology. You seem to know the land and gardens, at least.”
I clutched my teacup harder, but I said nothing.
“You are completely unrefined, however. You have studied no languages besides English and Welsh,”she said the last word with obvious distaste. “By your own admission, you cannot dance or play an instrument. As it is, you have no time to learn languages. Miss Aderyn will be your dancing instructor, and she will try to get you to make something of this.”
Catherine stood and retrieved my mother’s harp- the one I’d kept in my bedroom since Mother had died- from behind her chair. I stood abruptly, reaching out to take the harp from her.
“My apologies,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s… it’s delicate.”
“It’s beautiful,” Robin said, standing to take a closer look. “The strings aren’t worn at all, and the tuning keys seem to be in good order. It will play.”
“Good. I will leave you both, for you cannot begin any sooner than now. Good morning.” And with those final words, Catherine swept from the room.
Robin and I stood for a moment, the heavy clock ticking away the silence, and then Robin laughed heartily.
“I’ve heard of wicked stepmothers before, but she is ridiculous. Why do you allow it?”
“I cannot choose who my father loves. I plan to secure my room better in future.”
“I’m not just referring to your privacy. I’m glad you could not hear how she spoke of you before you arrived, because it is not what I would call flattering.”
“I know she doesn’t like me, and I suspect that she only wants me to marry so she can be rid of me,” I said, placing my mother’s harp on the side table next to the sofa. “She is right in many respects, however. I’m getting older, and I have had no proper suitors. I am Tylwyth’s only heir. I am the last Llewelyn who knows the secrets of the gardens.”
“If your father has another son, you should be here to teach those secrets.”
“I begin to think he never will.”
Another sober silence fell over the room, and then I remembered.
“Why are you here, Robin? More importantly, how are you here?”
Robin laughed. “I came to tutor you, of course. I came by the main road.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m joking, which isn’t the same thing as lying. Truthfully, I came here through the stone circle on the other side of the bridge, just before it was destroyed to sink a coal pit. I thought I could conceal my identity better if I was initially the Baughan’s guest. I obviously did not come to tutor you. You can dance, and I’d wager you can play that harp, as well.”
“Then why did you come? Are you trying to persuade me to join the fairies?” It felt odd to speak so brazenly about the fae aloud. I half expected Robin to laugh and proclaim I was mad. Instead, she smiled sadly.
“I came to help you save Tylwyth, and when that proves impossible, I hope you will come with me to the otherworld.”
It took some time for my mind to process what I saw, but I immediately knew I had left my beloved garden.
I was still outdoors- no, it only seemed like I was outdoors. I was in a massive hall, which was flooded with strange, shifting colors of light. Overhead I saw clouds of blue, purple, and pink, reminiscent of a fine sunset, but they were not natural clouds. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see they were flat, and they shifted with unearthly speed on the vaulted ceiling above me.
To each side was a series of white columns with lights that flashed and receded in order, seeming to lead me further down the hallway. The floor under my boots was black, and it shone like glass. Strange lines of light would appear, shift, and recede as I moved my feet, reflecting the colors of the ceiling above.
“Welcome to the Otherworld,” spoke a rich, warm baritone. “Welcome to Gwlad y Tylwyth Teg.”
“Fairyland,” I whispered to myself.
The person who had spoken stepped into my field of view, and I now stood facing- I could not quite convince myself he was a fairy, real as he appeared. He was a tall, dark-skinned, regal-featured man, with heavy locks of grey hair, yet a smooth, youthful face. He wore clothes of deep purple and green, with ornate gold fittings at his breast. Around his neck, he wore a heavy, gold torque with a dragon’s head carved at each end, and at his back…
I could not ignore the fact that he had large, multicolored, gossamer wings protruding from his back. The wings fluttered gently as he smiled.
“It is sometimes called fairyland, yes. It is the land of summer- the land of eternal youth. You may call me Gareth; I am your sponsor.”
“My- my sponsor?” I heard myself say. I was not curious as to his meaning- not yet. I closed and opened my eyes several times, willing the scene to melt away like the dream it surely was.
“Is there something in your eyes, or are you experiencing the changeling effect?”
“The- I beg your pardon?” I said, widening my eyes to see if I could open them, and finally awaken.
“When we bring mortals here, they often reject the evidence of their senses. It is a lot to absorb, I understand. You’ve never experienced anything like this before, and you have no knowledge of the mechanisms that have brought you here. I believe many of you call such things ‘magic.’”
I laughed a little- an hysterical giggle. “There is no such thing as magic.”
“Oh, good. If you don’t believe in magic, you should find it easy to adjust,” he said, relaxing his posture a bit. “What you have experienced must, to you, seem like an event of very low probability, but I assure you there is a deterministic chain of causality that makes logical sense, going back centuries- plenty of time to build this advanced civilization, with our halls and ballrooms, parks, homes, libraries…”
“I think I may be sick,” I interrupted.
“Let me assist you.” He procured a bottle from his pocket and sprayed my face with a glittering, golden liquid. I gasped involuntarily, breathing in the concoction, and instantly the nausea, the dizziness, and much of the confusion vanished.
My mind cleared involuntarily. In that moment, I wondered if I had been dazed because of genuine shock, or if I had been dazed because I thought I ought to be shocked.
“Let me try again,” he said. “Reality is much bigger than you knew, and encountering that fact is always painful. Until you get used to the new reality you’ve been presented with, just tell yourself it is a dream, and you should feel better. Dreams aren’t unusual, are they?”
“I’ve had stranger dreams than this,” I admitted. “Is this a dream?”
“Worry about that later, after you have had time to process everything. For now, just tell yourself it’s a dream- a very pleasant dream, if you embrace it. In your dream, I witnessed you do a good deed, and as a reward, you are invited to the fairy ball.”
“A good- you mean when I gave Mr. Pritchard his medicine for New Year’s?”
“You’ve done another good deed, already? No- this was a much better deed than a small New Year’s gift. And now- no time to chatter. We must go!”
He grabbed my hand and pulled me halfway down the hall, and then he hesitated.
“No- you mustn’t enter like that.” He took the bottle from his pocket again and sprayed me, and suddenly my dress changed- shifted. My woolen coat melted away, leaving only a gossamer wrap, and my shirtwaist and skirts melded into a gown of the lightest, iridescent fabric.
He sprayed his hand and ran it through my hair, and I could feel my hair smooth, untangle, and fall in soft waves past my waist.
“Beautiful,” he breathed. “Here is a mortal woman who will make half the fairies in the hall green with envy, and the other half scarlet with lust.”
“I don’t think-”
“Good, for there’s no time to think. Let’s go.”
He took my hand again, and we ran- almost flew- down the hall, following the columns’ flashing lights. We suddenly stopped at a doorway, where a young man with curly gold hair and bright magenta wings smiled and nodded. The young man then opened the door to a massive ballroom and called out, his voice echoing unnaturally loud.
“His Royal Highness King Gareth, and his changeling candidate, Miss Julia Lloyd.”
#
If I were to dream of a fairy ballroom, my mind would not conjure what I saw that fateful night.
The room was large, of course, and there my expectations ended. The room was bordered on all sides by banquet tables, and it was so expansive that I could not see those who dined on the far side of the room.
Gareth – King Gareth- gestured for me to follow, and then his wings fluttered and he took to the air. Before I could protest, a strange cloud of multicolored lights, each of them humming like insects, hoisted me by my feet and my hands, and enveloped me in a strange wind that bore me behind Gareth across the ballroom.
Below me, where I might have expected to see a dance floor, there was a crystalline lake, with ripples of dark blue water that shimmered with a thousand stars. Upon this lake scores of fairies danced- some of them hand-in-hand with wingless humans. Above me, a giant fresco danced with painted figures that shifted as though alive.
All around me, I could hear music- drums played faster than the most skilled musician at home could ever dream of playing, instruments that echoed and swelled as though played through caves over a great valley, and voices that may as well have been an angelic choir. I could not close my eyes to listen more closely. I could not miss any of the spectacle around me.
Soon I was deposited at the banquet table, on a cushion as soft as a rose petal. The table was set with the most delicate crystal plates covered in pastel confectioneries and exotic fruits, and goblets filled with plain water. Though I could see no wine, I’d read enough stories to be wary of eating any of the food.
“Tell me, young Julia, what- oh, please excuse me,” he said, and stood again from his own cushion to greet another guest.
“How rude- to leave his own candidate alone,” I heard someone else speak. I turned around to see a beautiful young fairy. Her golden curls were crowned with a wreath of pink roses, and her skin covered in tiny, glittering jewels where freckles otherwise might have been. She curtseyed to me, and giggled a bit as I stumbled up from my cushion to reciprocate.
“Oh good, you’re not some stuffy noble from the upper world. They are always so difficult to talk to,” she said. “My name is Papillon.”
“I am Julia. It is… enchanting to meet you.” I said, unable to find another greeting that would suit.
Papillon laughed again. “You are a flirt, aren’t you? Since your sponsor has left you alone, I hope you won’t scruple to come dance with me.” she extended her arm.
“I-” I looked back at Gareth, uncertain, but Gareth was now surrounded by a small circle of fairies, deep in conversation.
“I would love to,” I said, turning back to Papillon with another curtsey. “However, I’m afraid I’ve never learned to dance.”
“Dancing isn’t something you learn,” she said, her periwinkle eyes somewhat wide with shock. “It’s something you feel, or you don’t do at all. Does this music make you feel?”
“Oh yes- more than any other music I’ve ever heard.”
“And- do I make you feel?” she asked with a coy smile.
“I-”
“Never mind answering- your blush has betrayed you.” Papillon took my hand and guided me to the lake, which I found not to be a lake at all, but a glass floor that danced with illusory waves. The false lake seemed to splash as we stepped onto it, but not a droplet of water spotted my slippers or gown.
Periwinkle took my hands gently, and then closed her eyes and began to sway, following not the music’s complex beat, but the gentle rise and swell of the accompanying voices. I took a deep breath and followed, keeping my eyes on her movements. Then she opened her eyes and led me deeper into the dance, turning me this way and that, until the ballroom around me was nothing more than a blur of light accompanied by music. Her jewels twinkled with colored light that shifted in time with the music, and I grew mesmerized by the scene- entranced by the movement. My heart danced along with my body.
Then the spinning stopped as she stilled, frowned, and sighed. Another fairy had come up behind her, tapped her shoulder, and said, “you shouldn’t keep Gareth’s prize to yourself.”
“Robin!” Papillon said with an exaggerated sigh. “Please, for once, don’t infect this ball with your chaos.”
The other fairy stepped between Papillon and me, brushing the former aside as though she were a mere insect. The new fairy seemed oddly out of place in this grand ballroom. Even though she was a stunning creature, with startlingly scarlet hair, delicate skin, and deep green eyes that matched the color of her fluttering wings, she was dressed in plain black robes.
The new fairy bowed deeply to me, and then glanced back at Papillon.
“The chaos isn’t mine. Besides, it’s too late. The ball is infected.”
Papillon frowned. “Gareth won’t be pleased.”
“It’s Gareth’s fault. Look for yourself.”
Papillon turned toward Gareth, where the small circle of fairies around had grown into a budding crowd.
“I’m sorry, Julia. I must take care of this. Thank you for the dance,” Papillon said with another curtsy, and she smiled though her wings drooped wearily. Then she shook herself and flew over to the crowd of fairies.”
“You’re being very patient, Julia.” The red-haired fairy turned back to me. “I’m Robin, by the way. Are you tired? Papillon sometimes forgets that humans get fatigued.”
Until Robin had asked, I had not noticed, but my heart raced, my breath was short, and sweat was pooling on the nape of my neck.
“Here,” Robin said, leading me back to the banquet table. “You’ve heard all the stories, haven’t you? Don’t worry about drinking the water- only the sacred wine can turn you into one of us. You can have as much water as you like, and still pass back to the mortal realm.”
“Are you certain?” I said falteringly. “I- I mean…”
“I should be offended that you think I’m that ignorant,” Robin sniffed, “but I know that’s not what you’re asking. You’re really asking if I’m trustworthy. I am not trustworthy, and even if I were, there would be nothing I could say that would convince you of it.”
She turned to the table and then back to be, holding a delicate crystal goblet that shone under the dancing lights. There were small chunks of ice in the water, and condensation beaded the circumference of the glass.
I swallowed, and found my throat was dry.
“So- you mean to confuse and tempt me all at once?” I said.
“There’s nothing to tempt you with. It’s just water,” Robin said plainly. She held the glass out to me, her green eyes earnest.
I took the glass, and then stepped forward and put it back on the table. Robin raised an elegant brow, and an oddly knowing smirk graced her lips.
Before I could comment, there was a sudden rush of air as the crowd around Gareth scattered, and fairies darted across the ballroom, beating their wings furiously as they went. Gareth himself approached me slowly and landed with a bow.
“Julia, please excuse my neglect. Robin, I am glad you were able to come.”
Robin, discarding any formalities, folded her arms. “Were you able to stabilize it?”
“For now. Before you blame me, please remember that we were expecting this to occur, anyway,” Gareth said.
“Excuse me, but what-” I began, and then stopped, startled, as Robin reached out and took my hand, kissing it gently.
“Julia, I cannot say how glad I am you’ve made it here,” she said. Then she lifted into the air and sped away.
Gareth linked his arm in mine, raised his hand in the air, and the music in the ballroom stilled. The images overhead shifted, and I was astonished to see a huge likeness of Gareth’s face, like a flipped mirror, echoing his movements and expression.
“Sponsors, bring your mortal candidates forward,” he said, and his voice echoed through the ballroom as loud and clear as the music had been.
Six fairies and six morals- suspended in the same clouds of light that had borne me across the ballroom- approached, and landed in front of us as the rest of the fairies formed a crowd behind them.
“Congratulations, humans, and warmest welcome to the Otherworld. As your sponsors have no doubt already explained, we have chosen you from among your human brethren to become a fairy. As per tradition- and as the fairy portal allows- you have been granted a year and a day to decide whether you would like to join us, to get your affairs in order, and to drink of the sacred wine that will allow you to grow wings and live in the Otherworld forever.”
Gareth gestured toward the crowd, and Papillon stepped forward, holding a tray which bore 5 goblets and a carafe.
For a moment, a heavy hush fell over the ballroom, and then a mortal woman shuffled forward. Her back was hunched, and the hair piled on her head was iron grey, adorned with a deep cinnabar comb. She lifted her elegant silken robe as she shuffled forward, and then she stopped, bowing deeply to Gareth.
“Your majesty, I have long ago made my arrangements. I am ready.”
Papillon poured the ruby-colored wine into one of the goblets, and the crowd broke into thunderous applause as the old woman drank.
“Wonderful,” Gareth said warmly. He dropped my arm and took the old woman’s hand. “I am overjoyed for you to join us, Hoshiko. Luna, could you please escort Hoshiko to the resting room, for her transformation?
“And now,” Gareth said, turning back to the assembled humans as Hoshiko shuffled away, “Is there anyone else who is ready to partake of the fairy wine?”
There was another silence, and then, before I could think better of it, I heard myself speak.
“If you please, your majesty, there is a boon I would ask of the fairy court.”
Mother went to heaven, and then 9 years passed.
I became a woman. I put the fairy stories my mother had told me in a precious corner of my mind with my other memories of her, and I took her place tending the well, the greenhouses, and the gardens. Under my care, the garden grew, and I remained the same.
Whether the passage of time or my tranquility within this time was the greater sin, I do not know, but sin they appeared to be, under the eye of my new stepmother.
A woman newly married to an old widower always comes into the house with fresh eyes, and after closely examining the cottage and grounds for flaws she could correct, my stepmother turned her eyes on me.
“Let me see if I understand your situation correctly,” Catherine said, bringing a delicate hand up to massage her temple. “You are soon to be 27-”
“In six months,” I said.
“You have had no suitors, and have attended no balls?”
“None that I can recall. No wait- I’ve had one suitor. When I was ten Bran Goff called me pretty, and I threw a dirt clod at him. I’m afraid that was the end of his suit.”
“Have you any accomplishments?” she continued, as though I had not spoken.
“I built a new greenhouse last autumn, and I added the terracing near the east garden wall.”
“I mean,” she said after a heavy sigh, “can you sing, play an instrument, dance, do needlework…”
“I can do mending, when needed.” I almost mentioned my rosewood harp, but hesitated. My mother had died before she could give me many lessons, and ever since I had only played with the instrument, making interesting sounds, and picking out tunes by ear. I tuned it by the tuning fork that was packed in my father’s medical kit, and I was not at all confident that I did so properly.
“So then, you are almost completely uneducated,” Catherine said, her dark, piercing gaze steady as she spoke these harsh words.
“I have had free reign of my father’s library since I was young,” I said weakly in my own defense.
“Make a list of the books you have read, so I may give them to your tutor,” she said with another deep sigh.
“A tutor? But aren’t I too old-”
“Yes, Julia, you are entirely too old for a tutor, and that is a problem. In six months, you will officially be an old maid. I can only hope to give you just enough surface polish to save you from that fate. We don’t have much time.”
“So- you wish for me to marry?” I said, somewhat taken aback.
“Don’t you wish to marry?” she said with an expression I felt must mirror mine.
“I’ve never thought about it, to be honest. Tylwyth is dependent on the gardens, and though father is an excellent steward of the house and the finances, I am the only one who knows how to manage the gardens.”
“A professional gardener, no doubt, could probably double the income the gardens generate.”
I bit my lip, unsure how to respond to such a bald statement from a newcomer. Tylwyth was a family garden. It was unthinkable that someone other than a Lloyd should work the gardens.
“We have some herbs and flowers that only grow here,” I said slowly. “A professional gardener, however well-trained, would not know how to manage them.”
“Well then, a professional gardener will simply have to learn. I will be blunt. Your family is diminishing. You are the only living heir to this house. Given his advanced age, it is possible your father will never sire another child. If you do not marry, then the knowledge of these gardens will die with you.”
It was my turn to put a hand to my temple. When father had remarried, I had resigned myself to teaching my half-siblings how to tend the gardens. Catherine had a good point, however; my father’s health had been fading, little by little, since my mother passed. I’d hoped that his new marriage would bring some fresh surge of life to him, but that was not guaranteed.
Unfortunately, if Catherine was correct, and there was no new heir to Tylwyth, then I was in a double-bind, for without another heir I must tend the gardens, but to continue the family line, I must leave to marry.
“You’ve given me much to think about,” I said.
“You don’t have much time. Your tutor will arrive tomorrow. When she comes, pin up that mess you call hair, and wear a clean frock.”
#
I stepped out of the stuffy parlor and into the sharp January air.
There was a breeze- slight, but brisk- and I let the air clear my mind as my boots crunched on the gravel walk beneath me. I moved swiftly down the walk, around the spiral shrubbery and past the terraced beds where perennials slumbered beneath the winter mulch.
I took a shortcut over the low wall that separated the raised beds from the flat lawn, where wildflowers would break through the brown grasses come spring. Then, by the new greenhouse I paused, and turned to gaze at the grandfather oak in the distance.
The grandfather oak had stood at the garden entrance for generations, a silent guard of the old ways which seemed to be fading from the country around us. It was the tallest tree for miles around, and its roots went deep.
A sudden wind rose all around me, then, and the grandfather oak shuddered against the grey sky.
I shivered.
The greenhouse would be warmer, I knew. Though the earth slumbered now, spring would approach swiftly, and I wanted to have the first batch of seedlings ready for when the last frost receded, and the alm-trees showed their first buds. What gardener, I wondered, would know what the alm-tree buds meant? What gardener would know when to plant the sprite herbs, which would be sold to every elder in the county for rheumatic fever? What gardener would know how to prepare the sachets for new mothers, or the willow poultices for fever? Who else could coax the hothouse flowers to bloom before St Dwynwen’s day?
I knew what I must do. It was near sacrilege, but it was the only way to ensure the garden would not be lost. And yet, I hesitated. For the knowledge to fall into possibly unworthy hands…
There was nothing else to do. I must write down the Lloyd family secrets.
I leaned against the greenhouse door, unable to make myself go inside and get on with my duties. For the first time in almost a decade, I wished to run- to hide- to throw myself into the high grasses around the bottoms where I would not be found, and I could escape the trap I was in. But then- hiding would do no good. I could not tend Tylwyth forever.
Instead, I went into the greenhouse and lost myself in my work.
#
I worked until the light outside became diffuse, and I heard the familiar call of the old churchbell. Without thinking, I automatically put away the seed trays I’d been preparing, swept away the stray bits of dirt, picked up the charm basket, and opened the greenhouse door.
I followed the bell’s call through the evening mist until I reached the stone well. Beside the well was a bell pull, connected to a large, cast-iron bell which had been repurposed when the old cathedral was torn down during the reformation. Now it stood above the stone well, waiting for those who sought something more than the water’s healing properties.
Mr. Pritchard stood under the bell, a sheepish grin spread across his weathered face.
“Good evenin’, Miss Lloyd,” he said, “and happy New Year!”
“Happy new year to you, Mr. Pritchard,” I said. “Are you here for your wife’s medicine?”
“Aye, and a bottle of the well water, if you please.” He tugged at the well’s pulley for a bit, his gnarled hand straining helplessly, and then shook his head.
“Do you need some liniment for your hands?”
“Well, I didn’t think so when I come, but now I think…” he trailed off, looking at the sky above. “I feel a storm in my bones, but I see none in the sky. The fair folk must be stirrin’ again, after all these years.”
“The fair folk?” I tried not to smile, but I could feel my eyebrow quirk just a little. I turned away to hide my expression and cranked the well’s pulley.
“Your mother must have told you. She knew the fair folk, as did your grandmother before her.” Mr. Pritchard held out his jug, and I was obliged to turn back to him so I could fill it.
“My mother did tell me stories,” I said, staring hard at the bucket as I tilted it carefully toward the jug’s mouth. “I never knew my grandmother, of course.”
“Of course not- she was off to a better place before you were born, bless her.
Well now- that’s a penny for the water, and two more for the medicine?”
“Not a penny today, Mr. Prichard,” I said. “It’s the New Year, after all.”
“Bless you, child,” he said, beaming as he took the medicine bottles. He placed them in his satchel, slung the jug over his shoulder, and turned to go. He hesitated, and then tossed a penny into the well.
“Just in case the fair folk aren’t quite so forgiving,” he said with a wink, and then he was gone.
I stood for a moment, staring at the well as Mr. Pritchard’s footsteps sounded into the distance. The wind had died down, and I was numb to the cold. The light faded, and everything was still.
When it was nearly too dark to see, I was about to go back to the house when I heard a loud croak. I turned back to the fountain and saw a glimmer of luminescent green expand and contract.
Croak sang the green-gilled frog. A moment later, the frog’s tongue lashed out, and caught a glowing moth.
“You will freeze,” I said to the frog. “You should be hibernating.”
The frog ignored me and crunched his dinner.
The wind rose again, chilling me through my thick wool coat. I turned to leave once more when I caught a glimmer of green from the corner of my eyes, just under the willows.
“I can’t be,” I whispered.
I felt as though I walked in my sleep, but still I walked, compelled to follow the green light. Under the willows, as bright and clear as the balmy, summer night so long ago, lay the green-light toadstool ring.
My eyes filled with tears as the memories flooded my mind, unbidden. If only the fairy tales had been real, I thought. If only I could have stayed with my mother forever, in fairyland, and listened to the fairy’s music with her.
“It’s only phosphorescent lichen,” I said out loud. “It must grow on the toadstools. There’s nothing magical about it.”
But my mind was already lost in a reverie, perhaps primed by Mr. Pritchard’s words. What if my mother and Mr. Pritchard were right? What if there was a place where I could escape the difficult choice I was faced with?”
“You can’t run away from Tylwyth to avoid leaving Tylwyth.” I said aloud.
And yet I stepped forward until I was at the edge of the toadstool ring. I could almost hear my mother’s harp on the breeze.
“Perhaps the fair folk would understand,” I said. “Perhaps they would help.”
At that moment the wind rose, so fierce that it blew my hair over my head and into my eyes. Blinded, I stepped forward again.
Then I felt someone push me, and I fell forward into the center of the ring, sprawled out in the frosty grass.
Feeling foolish, I climbed back to my feet. The air around me shifted as the breeze died down, and I suddenly felt a delicious warmth. The air no longer smelled of frost and earth, but was gently perfumed, like a field of spring flowers. I pushed my hair out of my eyes, and then gasped.
Just like that, my life changed forever.
“Never lick a green-gilled frog, lie down in a green-light toadstool ring, or kill a five-eyed moth.”
I am certain my mother has given me much more practical advice, but none is burned in my memory as sharp and as vibrant as this.
Mother and I were, as we ever were, in the gardens that surrounded our home, Tylwyth cottage. The gardens and surrounding forest were far larger than a small home like Tylwyth should support, and yet the estate stood as it had for centuries, tended by a family dedicated to the land, but uninterested in improving the house.
Yet with such gardens, who needed a stately manor? Mother and I sat close to the stone well, beside the ha-ha that separated the garden proper from the rolling hills and crags beyond. Above us, the full moon illuminated shrubberies and flower beds, and a swift wind gusted past the trees, setting pollen dancing in the summer sky where the stars glittered like tears.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” I said with a smile, “but I believe I must have misheard you. The whispering willows are vying for my attention.”
“Never lick a green-gilled frog, lie down in a green-light toadstool ring, or kill a five-eyed moth,” Mother repeated. Her voice was serene, but her eyes glittered in the moonlight.
“I can’t imagine ever having reason to do any of those things,” I said, trying to match her serenity. I failed, and my voice cracked with suppressed laughter.
“It is easy to lose your wits, when you’re in the presence of the fairies.”
All at once, my laughter tumbled out. When I could breathe once more, I wiped away a few spare tears. “Oh, Mother, you know I love your stories, but I am seventeen today!”
“Then the fairies have chosen an auspicious night to make their presence known,” she said with a wry smile.
We had been taking a simple supper in the garden, as we often did when we lost ourselves in our work and could not return to the house in time for tea. Mother put her napkin in our basket and brushed crumbs from her lap as she stood. “Come, let me show you the signs.”
I stood, willing to indulge her fancy on such a pleasant evening. She led me to the edge of the well and pointed at a stone where a small green lump sat, inflating his shining cheeks as he croaked.
“A green-gilled frog, as promised. And look-” her breath hitched as the frog’s tongue lashed out and caught a glowing moth. “His dinner, the five-eyed moth. Both of these creatures belong to the fairy realm.”
“Then why are they here?” I asked.
Mother looked up at the sky, where the glow of the moon blotted out the stars around it. Something like sadness moved like a cloud over her face, but then she smiled, and was merry once more.
“The fairies have been here for 6 months, and will remain another 6 months and a day. No one knows when they will return again, once they go away.”
“And how do you know that they are here?”
“Your grandmother taught me the signs, just as I am teaching you,” she said. She took my hand with an almost girlish laugh and dragged me away from the well, near a small clearing of trees nestled at the southern garden gate.”
“Look,” she said, pointing at the patch of moss and lichen that spread out under the trees. The trees shadowed the moon’s silver light, and yet I could see a green shimmer on the ground. I stepped closer, but Mother held fast to my hand, keeping me by her side.
“Do you see the shape?”
“It is a ring.”
“The green-light toadstool ring,” she whispered in a voice barely louder than the willows. “That is the final sign. If you lie down inside the ring, or lick the toad, or kill the moth, you will be transported to fairyland.”
“Well then- let us go and meet the fair folk!” I said, laughing and pulling at her hand once more.
But my mother’s grip had become like iron, and she would not let me go.
“Mother- surely it’s a game…”
“If you go to fairyland, the fair folk will bid you welcome, and ask you to dance the fairy round. You must dance, for there is no music sweeter than the music of the fae.”
“Then teach me to dance, for I don’t know how.”
My Mother continued, as though she had not heard me. “And then the fair folk will offer you the fairy wine, and this you must refuse, for if you ever drink the fairy wine, then you will become a fairy yourself, and live forever and ever in the fairy realm.”
“If the fairies are half as charming as they are in your stories, then this would be a heavenly thing.”
“But fairyland is not heaven. Your grandmother is in heaven. I am going to heaven. If you join the fairy, then you will live forever, and you will never see me again.”
“Mother,” I protested.
She turned to me and blinked, and all at once she seemed to come out of a trance.
“And so, my love, take my advice,” she laughed. “Stay away from the green-gilled frog and the five-eyed moth. Stay away from the fairy ring.”
“I am feeling generous, so I will assume what you say is true,” I said. “If that is so, why not go to the fairy realm so I may enjoy the music and dance, and meet the fair folk, and then turn down the wine so that I may return?”
Mother shook her head. “I wish it were that simple, but no one ever turns down the fairy wine.”
I mulled this statement over as Mother pulled me back, away from the fairy ring and into the moonlight. When we returned to the stone well, Mother took a bundle from the basket and handed it to me.
“I have been saving this for a long time. Happy birthday, my darling.”
I opened the bundle, revealing a cherrywood lap harp.
“Oh, mother,” I breathed. “It’s lovely. You will teach me?”
“There’s no time to waste,” she said, sitting once more and reaching out for the harp. “Your first lesson will be now.”
Though the moonlight was bright, it was still difficult for me to follow her fingers as she adjusted the tuning keys and demonstrated the proper hand position. Then she began to play, and all I could see were the shining strings, glittering and vibrating as the notes danced in the night air.
If there is any music sweeter than this, I thought, I would pay any price to hear it.
I smiled at my mother as the last notes faded away, and I said said, “If no one ever turns down the fairy wine, then perhaps the fairies are right to tempt us. Perhaps we would be right to go with them. It’s easier to persuade when you are right, after all.”
“Perhaps, my love. Even so, I would miss your grandmother, and I would miss Tylwyth.”