The little friend

24.4K 1.7K 217
                                    

As the houses in the valley came in sight, Ferry's heart began to race. His legs were not listening anymore, and he found himself running. He descended the path, passing by Oona and Matilda like an arrow. He stopped at the edge of the village, catching his breath. He needed a few minutes before he could do or say anything.

The small village in front of his eyes was trembling with sounds, colors, and music. It was alive. In the beginning, he thought they were cottages, but now he could tell they were actually tree-houses. The thick branches were the floor, walls, and roofs of the houses. And the roofs were actually the treetops, intertwined with layers and layers of flowers. There were roofs of bachelor's buttons, morning glory, lilies-of-the-valley, climbing roses, poppies, and clover. Each tree-house had three rooms only, one on top of the other. The first and lower one was the hall and the storeroom altogether. The next room was the sleeping-room; it was called that way, Oona told him, because that was the place for sleep, even though there was no bed like in the world of humans. A couch of leaves and soft herbs was enough for the fairies to catch a nap. Fairies took a nap pretty much anywhere, but the best nap was in the sleeping-room. Usually, a fairy's nap took as long as a good fairytale. The last chamber was the kitchen. Fairies loved soups, salads, berries, and, of course, all the tarts, cookies, muffins, and soufflés you could think of. They were made with honey, the sweetest, most flavored honey. And there was plenty of that, for bees in the fairy world were the size of sparrows.

Spiral stairs were curling the trees' trunks, leading to each room. But the stairs weren't built by hand. They were crafted by the trees themselves to offer shelter to the magical beings that kept them safe.

In Tenalach, just as everywhere in fairyland, there was no fire. The fire was dangerous, hence forbidden. But there were flames, for fairies had the power of making flames with their bare hands. Flames to keep them warm or to light up their houses, and flames for cooking. But flames that would never burn or harm a creature, be it a fairy, a tree or even a plant.

"That is beautiful," Ferry whispered, unable to take another step.

"It is, isn't it?" Oona said, her eyes sparkling with pride. "So what are we waiting for? Let's go!" she said taking him by the hand and pulling him over.

The uproar in the village was growing with every step they took. The most unusual beings were welcoming and greeting them, wearing big smiles on their faces. Bigger, smaller, tall and majestic, or tiny and humpbacked; walking or flying, wearing the most colorful clothes, or clothes of light and air; with flowers in their braids and jewels on their jackets. With beards, fur, and hair waving in the wind.

And nymphs! Nymphs that were dancing in the circle, barely touching the ground, with their dresses made out of mist and hair falling like a river all the way to their heels.

Some of the magical creatures were singing long-forgotten songs. Others were playing the pipe and flute. Some of them were speaking human language. But most of them were speaking a different language. An old language that was kept since the beginning of time, the language all the fairies were speaking, no matter where they were. It was called Elvian and whenever they spoke that language, the fairies seemed as singing, pronouncing longer vowels and sometimes ending the phrases with short sounds like saying magical words with unusual powers.

But the fae were not the ones to surprise Ferry the most. People were. The human prisoners of fairyland. Just like Matilda, long threads of shiny wool, thinner or thicker, were tied to their feet. And no matter how hard they've tried to enjoy the feast spirit, the humans were somehow restrained, watching the colorful show from the side.

The night was silently falling over Tenalach and shadows were taking the place of light. A few rays of honey light were still oozing between the branches. Lanterns were being lit in front of the tree-houses. Ferry watched like in a trance the blue, flickering flames. He stopped in front of a big torch near the path and touched the flame. He could sense the heat, a strong heat that reached to his heart. But the flame didn't burn him. And Ferry couldn't stop but wondering. He seemed like he had forgotten about rescuing Danny, about Oona's game, and... Matilda!

The Moonlight Boy | Ferry's Tale # 1Where stories live. Discover now