Prelude

“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.”

Chapter I