Showing posts with label Fairies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fairies. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Eolande and Orin


“What are ye doing?” Oren asked, looking over Eolande’s shoulder as she stared at the green lawn. A red haired baby sat in the grass, playing with a red ball.

“Lookin’ at the baby. Isn’t she pretty?” Eolande replied. Her translucent fairy wings vibrated in excitement.

“Yah, she’s pretty big. Let’s go, it’s almost time for the gathering and ye know how irate Lord Kailen gets if anyone is late.”

Eolande rolled her piercing blue eyes and grunted. She cared very little if her older brother became angry. Lord, indeed! As far as she was concerned, he was now, and would always be, her older brother, no more, no less.

With the tip of her wand, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and stepped from behind the rock.

Oren grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “What do ye think ye’re doin’?”

“I’m going to go say hello to the baby,” she replied, yanking her arm away from his grasp.

“You can’t! It’s forbidden.”

“Why is it forbidden?” she asked.

“You know why. If they see us, it will upset the natural order of things. They will start blaming things on us, like in the days of old when all bad things that happened to them were somehow our fault.”

“So?”

“So! So? We’ve struggled for hundred and hundreds of years to shake the bad-fairy image and have only recently gained a measure of respect from humans.” Orin shook his head and tried to pull her behind the rock.

She shook free and glared at him. “You are being silly. I don’t see how simply being seen by one human will tarnish the fairy reputation. Besides, this is a baby. She can’t even talk. Who’s she goin’ to tell?”

Orin shook his head. “No, no, no. I cannot let you do it. Let’s go.”

Eolande ignored him and, before he could grab her again, flitted from behind the rock. Orin darted right after her, his face growing red with frustration over her impertinent behavior.

A large bee buzzed past them and landed on a flower next to the baby. She reached out her chubby hand and started to grab it.

“No!” cried Eolande as she zipped toward the bee. She pointed her wand and a stream of fairy dust shot from the end, creating a stiff breeze that pushed the bee off the flower and out of the baby’s reach.

“Whew! That was close,” Eolande panted as she rested on the flower at the baby’s feet. The baby cooed and smiled. Eolande laughed.

“See, Orin. She’s a wee, friendly little girl. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Suddenly, the baby dropped the red ball. It hit the ground next to Eolande. The vibration from the impact knocked her off the flower.

She rubbed her head and looked around for her wand. “Where’s me wand?”

“I don’t know. Can we go now? Haven’t ye seen enough of the baby?”

“I can’t leave without me wand! Oooohhh! Just help me look for it, will ‘ye?”

“Perhaps it’s under the ball,” Orin suggested.

They pushed the ball, but it wouldn’t budge. “Use your wand to move it,” Eolande ordered.

“I will not! Unlike you, I stayed awake during the ‘Advanced Wanding’ class. It’s forbidden to use the wand on objects that belong to humans.”

Eolande snatched Orin’s wand and pointed it at the ball. Fairy dust flew from the end of it and hit the red ball, which promptly turned into a fat red rabbit.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Orin cried.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Bubby!” the baby cried, reaching for the rabbit.

The rabbit wiggled its pink nose at them and hopped away before the baby could grab him.

“At least now we can look for the wand,” Eolande said.

They searched through the thick grass and paid no attention to the baby.

“Bubby!” the red-haired baby shouted as she reached for Eolande.

“Fly!” Orin shouted.

Eolande fluttered high above the baby’s head. The baby laughed and tried to grab the darting fairy.

“Let’s forget the wand and get out of here,” Orin pleaded.

“But she’s having fun. Look at her pretty green eyes.”

Eolande continued to flit about and the baby reached above her head, trying to grab the fairy, until the baby’s red curls were a tangled mess.

“Look what you’ve done! The mother will surely blame it on us,” shouted Orin.

Eolande just shrugged and continued darting away from the little girl’s outstretched fingers.

“Speaking of ‘mother’,” Orin hissed. “Here she comes!”

The mother strolled across the lawn.

Eolande stopped flying and stared at Orin. “What about me wand?”

“It’s too late. We have to go. Now!”

Eolande flew to Orin and they disappeared into the hedgerow. They watched as the mother lifted the little girl and headed back to the house.

“Where’s your ball?” the mother asked the baby.

“Bubby,” the baby cooed and pointed in the direction she had seen the rabbit hop away.

“And you’re hair! What a mess. Hey, what’s this?” The mother reached into the baby’s tangled locks and pulled out a tiny, silver object, smaller than a pin.

“It’s me wand,” whispered Eolande.

The mother inspected it for a second then dropped it. “Hmm,” she said. “Must be some piece of trash the wind blew in.”

“It’s not trash!” Eolande cried.

“What did you expect she’d say, ‘Oooh, look it’s a wee fairy wand in me baby’s hair’,” Orin said. “They’ve gone inside. Let’s get the wand and be gone.”

Eolande retrieved her wand and they hurried to the gathering. Kailen narrowed his eyes at her as she took her seat at the front of the great fairy hall.

“I told you he’d be upset,” Orin whispered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Eolande replied.

“He can take away your privileges.”

“He won’t.”

“How do ye know?”

“You forget that I’m his baby sister. There’s all manner of things Lord Kailen has done that he’d rather the entire fairy kingdom not know about.”

Eolande smiled and blew her older brother a fairy kiss.

He shook his head and looked away.

Eolande didn’t listen as he addressed the fairies. Instead, she fidgeted with her wand and planned her next visit to the human world to see the baby with the bright red hair.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Of Fairy Night










An urgent hand pounds at my door
Rending sweet silence, eaves to floor
Rude intrusion I do abhor
Whatever for, whatever for?

Through open door, I peer outside
But no soul’s there this eventide
Just light-struck wings I can’t abide
They slip inside, they slip inside.

Resolved, I shuffle to my chair
Pick up the book left lying there
As wee, fair folk flit through the air
They’re everywhere! They’re everywhere!

They congregate about the light
Intent on dancing through the night
Their frenzied moves bring no delight
And no respite, and no respite!

I douse the light, cover my head
And blindly hobble off to bed
Leaving but darkness in light’s stead
I pray they’ve fled, I pray they’ve fled.

Settled within the cotton sheets
I hear the drone of soft wing beats
About my head a horde accretes
All hope retreats, all hope retreats.

They settle o’er me like a shroud
This writhing mass, this roiling cloud
Demand in voice so true and proud
They speak aloud, they speak aloud!

‘Give back to us our blessed light
Or you’ll not rest this fretful night
Through circumstance of dread and fright
You’ll fear our might, you’ll fear our might!’

I vow to honor their request.
For hope of gaining needed rest
I must endure this fairy fest
It’s for the best, it’s for the best.

And now beneath the light once more
Dance fairy shadows on the floor
I slip to bed and close the door
And soon do snore, and soon do snore.

When sun announces a new dawn
I slip from bed with weary yawn
And hope the fairies have withdrawn
To field or lawn, to field or lawn.

In parlor now, behold the sight
The aftermath of their delight
Resentment blooms from fairy sleight
Of stolen light, of stolen light.

Note on this poem:
The monotetra is a new poetic form developed by Michael Walker.
Each stanza contains four lines in monorhyme (the lines have the same end rhyme).
Each line is tetrameter (four metrical feet) for a total of eight syllables.
The last line contains two metrical feet, repeated.
There is no limit to the number of stanzas.

Stanza Structure:

Line 1: 8 syllables; A1
Line 2: 8 syllables; A2
Line 3: 8 syllables; A3
Line 4: 4 syllables, repeated A4, A4


Poem: Copyright, 2008, by Lorna Thomas

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