Three months
after the baby was hatched, his proud parents decided to hold his Naming
Ceremony.
This was a big thing, because it had been
centuries since the last time a Goblin baby had been hatched; so long, indeed,
that just about everyone had forgotten how to hold a naming ceremony, and had
to go to the Ancient of Priests to ask.
The Ancient of Priests was so old that his
beard had gone a mottled greenish-brown like tree bark, and his skin was like
rock crusted with lichen, the way an extremely old Goblin’s will, you know. In
accordance with custom, he came himself to the parents’ dungeon, supported by
two assistant priests, neither of whom was much younger than he.
“He must be given the opportunity to choose
his own name,” the Ancient of Priests declared, after examining the baby and
pronouncing him healthy and acceptable. Everyone pretended great relief that
the baby was healthy and acceptable, but of course that was the only possible
verdict. After so long without a baby, even so hardened a conservative as the
Ancient of Priests could hardly reject him.
“How will he do that?” Father Goblin
wondered.
“He will choose from what is given him,”
the Ancient of Priests said, taking a bag from another assistant priest. From
it he brought out an assortment of objects, made of everything from stone to
wood, from iron to gold, and in a variety of forms and shapes. There were
hammers and adzes, plates and goblets, bells and balls and statues of Monsters
from the Lower Dark. All these, the Ancient of Priests spread out in a circle on
the floor, and gestured to Father and Mother Goblin to put down the baby in the
centre.
“Now he shall choose!” he declared.
For a moment the baby looked around, and
then, with a cry of delight as only a Goblin baby can make, he crawled to a
silver hammer and picked it up. He turned to an iron plate, and began beating
on it with the hammer.
“Tung Ting Tak,” the hammer went on the
plate. “Tung Ting Tak.” And the baby gurgled and laughed with approval.
“What does it mean?” the parents wondered.
“Will he be called Silver Hammer? Iron Plate?”
“Not at all,” the Ancient of Priests said.
“He’s telling you his name. He has chosen it himself. Tung Ting Tak.”
“Why,” everyone murmured, but quietly so
the Ancient of Priests could not hear. “That’s ridiculous. Tung Ting Tak,
indeed. Who ever heard of a name like that?”
But the child had been named, and nobody
could go against the Ancient of Priests’ decree. So Tung Ting Tak he remained,
and a lovely little Goblin boy he grew into. Little by little everyone forgot
how odd his name was, so that it seemed as ordinary an appellation as
Thunderwarrior or Silverrain.
When Tung Ting Tak was ten years old, the
time came for him to receive his Blessing, and this presented his parents with
a fresh problem. The Blessing could only be delivered by a Fairy, because only
a Fairy could bestow boons on the child. But there was no Fairy in Goblinland,
and there was no longer any coming and going between the two folk. It had been
so long since they had interacted with each other that the Goblins no longer
even remembered where the Fairies might be found.
Tung Ting Tak overheard his parents
worriedly discussing this. “The boy can’t go through life Unblessed,” Mother
Goblin sobbed, clinging to her husband’s fur. “Whatever shall we do?”
“I’ve been asking everyone I know if
they’ve seen any Fairies,” Father Goblin replied. “But they all say they
haven’t seen one since their own Blessing, and that was centuries ago.”
“There are no Fairies left,” Mother Goblin
said, sniffling. “In all the Great Underground, there is not a single one.
Perhaps they have all left for the Outside, and even to the cities of Men.”
Tung Ting Tak shivered at the mention of
Men. He had often heard how terrible those creatures were, and how he should
avoid all contact with them forever. But he also heard the terrible sadness in
his parents’ voices, and decided that something had to be done; because he
loved his parents, did Tung Ting Tak.
“I,” he announced, “will find a Fairy to
Bless me, even if it means I have to go to the Outside.”
“No, darling,” his mother explained, “this
is something your father and I have to do. Don’t worry, we’ll find a way.”
But Tung Ting Tak was intelligent and
observant, and he could see that his mother’s bulging eyes glittered with
unshed tears, and that his father’s tusks were grinding against each other with
misery. So, although he went away without saying anything further, he began to
lay his plans.
And so a week later, when day lay heavy on
this side of the world and the Goblins slept, Tung Ting Tak rose from his bed
of rags and dried leaves – a real luxury, which his parents had gone to great
lengths to provide him – and sneaked out of the dungeon. Fortune favoured him, and
only a few hours later, he was outside the galleries of his tribe’s territory,
without being seen and stopped by anyone. And a few hours after that, for the
first time ever in his life, he crawled through a crack between two boulders
and stood up in the early evening darkness, sniffing the cool mountain air.
He hadn’t thought out what to do once he
was Outside, so he waited for a Fairy to appear. For a long time, he wandered
around the hillside, long enough for the mountain cold to begin biting through
his fur, but no Fairies appeared.
“This is a problem,” he thought to himself.
“How can I find a fairy out here? I don’t even know where I am.”
This was perfectly true, because he’d
completely lost his way and couldn’t even identify which boulders, among the
thousands all around, held between them the entrance to the Goblin Underworld.
Also, he was not just cold but hungry, because he’d forgotten to bring along
anything to eat.
Tung Ting Tak was just about to start
wondering whether it would be a good idea to cry and if it would get him
anywhere when he saw a light. It was a very faint light, greenish and
flickering, and so faint that to anyone but a Goblin it might not have been
visible at all. But Tung Ting Tak saw at once that it was not a natural light,
and that meant something was there. So, putting aside his plan to cry for the
moment, he began hurrying downhill towards it.
It was much, much further away than he’d
thought, so that the night was far advanced before he finally got so close to
it that it reflected on his hands and claws, on his fur and the trees and grass
around him. And yet he couldn’t see the source of the glow, and blundered about
in the bushes until he almost stumbled right over it.
“Well,” said a voice which sounded as
though it was made of broken glass – only Tung Ting Tak had never heard of
broken glass and had no idea what it sounded like. “Well, hello there. Can you
help me out of here?”
Blinking with confusion, Tung Ting Tak
looked down. Not far away, between two bushes, there was a creature so strange
he stared at it in amazement. It had a short, round head, with two huge eyes,
and lustrous white fur which lay from its head down over its shoulders. It had long,
slender legs and arms, and two broad flat wings on its back, which were snagged
in the space between two branches.
“You can just step backwards,” Tung Ting
Tak informed this creature, “and you’ll be free in a moment.”
“A Fairy, step backwards?” the thing
snarled. Its teeth flashed in the greenish glow. “Never!”
“You’re a Fairy?” Tung Ting Tak asked. “A
real live Fairy?”
“Of course I am,” the creature said. “I’m
the Fairy Luna. And who might you be, that you don’t even know that a Fairy
never steps backward?”
“I’m just a Goblin,” Tung Ting Tak replied,
quite humbly. “I...”
“Tell me later,” the Fairy Luna snapped.
“Get me out of here first, you oaf.”
Not knowing what an oaf might be, Tung-Ting Tak wasn’t put off. Grasping one of the
branches trapping the Fairy’s large wings (they were very pretty, really, green
trimmed with magenta on the leading edge) he pulled it back until the wing
slipped through. He then did the same for the other.
“Well, that’s all fine then,” said the
Fairy, walking off. “So long and thanks.”
“Wait,” Tung Ting Tak called. “I need your
help.”
The Fairy Luna turned so quickly that her
wings clapped like castanets, and sent green sparks into the air. “Don’t even
think of it!” she snarled.
“Think of what?” Tung Ting Tak asked,
confused. “I haven’t said a thing.”
“No, but you were going to, weren’t you?
You were going to ask for three wishes. Well, that’s all over and done with,
Goblinchild. I don’t give three wishes any longer. I don’t even give one.”
“Why not?” Tung Ting Tak couldn’t help
asking.
“You want to know why not? Well, then,
listen.” The Fairy Luna grabbed Tung Ting Tak by the arm and pulled him towards
a fallen log. “Sit down here and listen.”
So Tung Ting Tak sat, watching the Fairy
parade back and forth furiously as she told her tale.
***********************
WHY
FAIRIES NO LONGER GIVE THREE WISHES
Once upon a time Goblinchild – long before
your great grandparents were hatched, I’ll warrant – there was a Fairy named
Tippytoes. She lived all alone in a lovely old toadstool by the banks of a
mountain stream, where ferns drooped fetchingly over the sparkling water, and
the sun and moon played with their reflections in the waves and on the forest
floor.
Tippytoes was by all accounts a young and
pretty Fairy – for in those days Fairies were beautiful – happy and laughing,
full of the joy of life. She was always trying to do her best for everyone,
even when they didn’t really deserve it.
Back in those days, Fairies granted three
wishes to anyone who would help them. I don’t know how the custom started, but
all Fairies were brought up to regard it as their duty.
Now, one day it so happened that Tippytoes
was out gathering herbs for a potion she wanted to brew, which would make night
air so full of fragrance that the moon might want to come down to earth to
breathe it. As she wandered, singing to herself, suddenly she felt something
grab her by the wings, and a moment later she was hoisted into the air.
It was a huge and ugly creature which held
her, a creature so ugly that she nearly fainted from the sight of it. And when
it spoke, its loud and raucous voice was almost more than she could bear. But
one couldn’t really blame her, because, you see, it was the first human she’d
ever seen.
You’ve never met a human, have you,
Goblinchild? Well, they’re terrible, horrible creatures, and none of us should
have anything more to do with them than we must. Remember this always, the only
good human is a human unaware that you even exist.
So this human picked up Tippytoes and
dangled her by the wings. “Well,” it thundered. “A Fairy, I see. And what will it give me for setting it free?” It
shook her a little. “Three wishes, perhaps?”
Of course, the problem was that Tippytoes,
being a Fairy, had no choice in the matter. “Yes,” she gasped. “Three wishes.”
“Good, good.” The human held her up so she
had no choice but to look into its horrible face. “The first wish is, I want a
castle of my own, bigger than the king’s palace.”
Of course, Tippytoes had only the vaguest
notion of what a castle even was, and
had absolutely no idea about the king’s palace. But she had to do her best, so
she nodded. “I promise.” A Fairy’s promise, as you may know, is absolutely and
completely binding. “And what is your second wish?”
“I want to have the great hall of the
castle filled completely with gold,” the human roared, the stink of its breath
making Tippytoes flinch. “Completely, up to the ceiling.”
“You shall have it,” Tippytoes promised,
because it was her duty. “And what is your third wish?”
“Hahahaha,” the human laughed. “For my
third wish, I want to have my three wishes back over again.”
“But that’s not the way it works,”
Tippytoes gasped, astounded at the creature’s perfidy. “You’re only allowed
three wishes, not six.”
“Six?” the human bellowed. “Who said
anything about six? After the second
three, I’ll wish for three more, and then three more yet. And I’ll wish for more after
that. Six? What kind of idiot do you take me for?”
Since this wasn’t a wish, Tippytoes didn’t
attempt to answer the question. “You’re only allowed to have three wishes,” she
tried to explain. “That’s all. Anything more is cheating.”
“Cheating?” The human shook Tippytoes so
hard she was afraid her wings would come off. “How dare you accuse me of cheating? Give me my wishes right now,
or I’ll dash your brains out.”
“I can’t,” Tippytoes said. “I really, truly
can’t. It’s not allowed. And if you dash my brains out,” she added
pragmatically, “you won’t get any wishes at all.”
“You’d better do as I say,” the human
shouted. “I demand you give me my wishes, exactly as I specified them. If you
don’t, we’ll go to court.”
“In that case,” the Fairy said, “we’ll have
to go to court, I suppose.”
And so the human took her to the court. This
court occupied a grim old house in the centre of the human town, and was full
of lawyers who looked like crows and judges who looked like vultures.
Tippytoes’ human grabbed one of these lawyers by the sleeve.
“I demand justice,” it said. “I caught this
Fairy and it promised me three wishes to let it go, but it isn’t fulfilling
them as promised.” And it proceeded to narrate its version of the tale.
“What will you pay me?” the lawyer
demanded. “I want half the roomful of gold.” It paused dramatically. “And the
judge will want the other half to rule in your favour.”
Tippytoes’ human went white. “I want two roomfuls of gold,” it whispered to
her.
“Can’t,” she said. “You said you want the
wishes exactly as you expressed them, remember? You can’t change them now.”
“And,” the lawyer added, “the king’s men
will want their taxes. And they won’t be ecstatic that you’ve got a castle larger
than the palace, will they? So you’d better be prepared to lose that as well.”
“Look,” the human said to Tippytoes,
throwing a desperate look over his shoulder at the lawyer. “Perhaps we could
compromise?”
“Certainly,” Tippytoes said. “I’m willing
to discuss things. But there’s the matter of your third wish...”
“Hold on!” the lawyer interrupted. “I heard
that. You can’t go changing your stance like this. Once you’ve come to law,
you’ve got to follow through. If you don’t...” It looked around and beckoned to
a couple of guards, which were watching curiously. “If you don’t, you’re in
contempt of court, and everything you own is forfeit. So what’s it to be?”
“Get me out of here!” Tippytoes’ human
said, eyes rolling fearfully. “Forget the wishes, just get me out of here.”
“Is that your one and only wish?” Tippytoes
asked.
“Yes, yes.” The guards were almost on the
human. “Hurry!”
So Tippytoes exerted her magic, and in an
instant the court had faded away and they were standing back where the human
had captured her, and it was looking blearily around in amazement and relief. “I’m
safe!” it said, mopping its brow with its free hand.
“Yes,” Tippytoes agreed. “And now it’s time
for you to let me go.”
“Let you go?” the human said, astounded. “Why should I let you go? You
haven’t given me anything yet.”
“I gave you your wish,” Tippytoes pointed
out. “You wanted to be out of the court, and you are. You’d specified that it
was your only wish.”
“Oh yes?” the human snarled. “Well, my
winged little friend, I’ve still got hold of you, and what I say...”
But it never got to finish what it was
going to say. All this while, Tippytoes had been bound by her duty to the
human. But when it had relinquished its wishes and she’d done as it had asked,
she was free of her obligation.
So she threw her will at the human. Not
much – she didn’t want to hurt it, it was a living thing after all – but enough
to send it howling away in terror, while she escaped quickly back to her
toadstool. It had been a near thing, far too close to risk ever happening
again.
****************************
“And that’s how,” the Fairy Luna said, “Fairies stopped granting
wishes. Not three, not two, not any at all.” She glared at Tung Ting Tak. “So
don’t you dare ask me for one. I don’t owe you anything.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Tung Ting Tak began.
“But I, I’m tired and cold and hungry and lost, and I...” and to his horror he
began to sob. “I don’t know what to do,” he wailed. “I came to find a Fairy and
I found one and now I don’t know what to do.”
“Wait,” Luna said. “You came specifically
to find a Fairy? Why?”
“Because I need one for my Blessing,” Tung
Ting Tak sobbed. “My parents are miserable because there are no Fairies down
below, and I came to find one because I hated seeing how sad they looked. And
now I’m lost and I don’t even know
how to get back and nobody will help.” He began crying again.
The Fairy Luna hesitated. “Damn it,” she
swore finally. “Stop crying a minute and let me think.”
“Are you going to...Bless me?” Tung Ting
Tak asked.
“Me? Not on your life. Even if I’d wanted
to, I don’t have the faintest idea how to go about it. I’m not a Fairy
Godmother.” She scratched a wing absently, thinking. “I’ve got it. Come along.”
She grabbed Tung Ting Tak by the fur, yanked him off the fallen tree, and began
towing him through the forest.
“Where are we going?” Tung Ting Tak asked,
as well as he could in between gasps for breath.
“You’ll see.” The Fairy Luna didn’t seem to
have any problem with breathlessness. “It’s a long way, though, so don’t
dawdle.” She threw a glance at him over her shoulder. “Don’t you dare think I’m doing this as a wish for
you, because I’m not.”
“Why are you doing it, then?” Tung Ting Tak
couldn’t help asking.
“Well, for one thing, I detest blubbering.”
Luna grimaced with disgust. “For another, you did help me out of a jam. If you hadn’t come along, I might have
been stuck in those branches for days.”
“You said you Fairies don’t ever step
back,” Tung Ting Tak said. “Why not?”
“That’s another story from a long time ago,”
Luna said. “I might just have the time to tell you on the way.”
*****************************
WHY
FAIRIES DON’T STEP BACK
Once upon a time, you understand, Fairies
used to step back if they needed to – just like anyone else. Those days they
used to go around much more openly, too – not like how they keep to themselves
now.
At that time there was a certain Ogre who
lived in a fortress high up on a mountain. This Ogre was cruel and greedy, and
the more he had the more he wanted, so that the country all around lived in
terror of his raids.
He was huge and ugly, this Ogre, with a
horn growing from the centre of his forehead, fangs which hung down to his
chin, and skin set with spines hard as iron and sharp as cruel words. He had a
name suited to his appearance and habits, too: Devourer.
Now, in one of the villages which lay not
far from the foot of the mountain, there lived a little Fairy called Delight.
She was in no way special among Fairies, except for the fact that she had a jewel,
which was ancient and powerful, full of mystery and magic. And one day, the
Ogre Devourer heard of the jewel and decided he must have it for his own.
Since to him, to want something was to
decide to obtain it, he lost no time in seizing his immense cudgel and marching
down to the village. The ground began to tremble before his oncoming footsteps,
so that the Fairies ran away in terror, and he arrived to find the place empty
of life.
By a stroke of bad fortune, Delight was
away from home at that time, or she would have snatched up her jewel before
fleeing. Instead, she arrived later to find her home smashed to the
foundations, and the stone missing. She knew, even before any of the other
Fairies told her anything, who was responsible.
“I’ll go and get the jewel from the foul
Ogre,” she said, full of her sorrow and grief. “I won’t rest till I get it
back.”
The other Fairies tried to dissuade her. “Don’t
even think of it,” they said. “He’s so huge and terrible that he could crush
you with a fingertip. We’ll help you rebuild your house. Let the jewel go.”
But, for the first time in her life,
Delight was adamant. “I’m going up to the Ogre’s fort,” she said, “And I won’t
return till I get the jewel back from him.” And, without turning to look at her
ruined house, she walked out of the village and up the hill towards the Ogre’s
lair.
The village Fairies looked at each other. “We
can’t let her go like that to her certain doom,” one said. We have to help her
as much as we can.”
“But how can we help her?” the others wondered.
“Long ago,” said the first Fairy, “before
the Ogre arrived and built his fort on the hill, there were Fairies who would
go up there every day and knew the mountain well. Old Butterfly is one of them
who still lives in the woods, not far from this village, and she is the best
one to advise Delight.”
The Fairy Butterfly was not just the oldest
Fairy in all the land thereabouts, she was also one of the wisest and most
versed in all the magical lore. So when a few of the villagers came to tell her
what had happened, she not just agreed instantly, she whisked herself out of
her hut and an instant later had appeared in front of Delight as she toiled up
the steep mountain path.
“What can I do for you, Old Mother
Butterfly?” Delight asked, for she was a well-brought-up Fairy and knew to be
always polite. “Surely you cannot be on this terrible mountain for pleasure.”
“No, I’m here to talk to you, daughter,”
Butterfly said. “If you are determined to go to the Ogre’s lair to recover your
jewel, I will not dissuade you. But before you go further, I must warn you of
the obstacles you will face and which you must overcome before you can arrive
at your destination.”
“What are those obstacles?” Delight
wondered.
“First, you must know that the Ogre has
ringed his fort with traps for intruders. As you climb this hill, you will see
things which may frighten you. But be sure not to take a step backwards – not a
single step! If you do, you will instantly be turned to a dried leaf blowing in
the wind. And when you get to the fort, do not try and crawl over the walls or
sneak in through a loophole in the ramparts, though you may find such ways
open. Instead, go straight up to the great front door, which is studded with
iron spikes and guarded by a ferocious beast with enormous teeth and eyes like
fire. No matter how this creature roars and menaces you, do not step back by so
much as the length of an acorn! If you do, you will be turned into a dandelion
seed drifting along. Ignore the beast, grasp the door by its handle, and you
will find yourself inside.
“And once you are inside, go straight up
the great staircase you will find opposite you. Climb without a pause to the
very top, and there you will find a door made of bronze, which leads to the
room at the top of the fort’s highest tower. It is there that the Ogre keeps
all his most valuable loot. Your jewel will be there. Take it and come down
quickly, and leave the way you came. But never, for any reason, step back, or
disaster will overcome you.” And so saying, the old Fairy departed back to her
little home in the woods.
Thinking about what she had just been told,
Delight continued climbing up the mountain. She was still thinking about it
when, with a terrific shriek, a monster like a winged serpent leaped into her
path, breathing fire into her face.
Though she was so startled that she cried
out, Delight remembered just in time not to take even a step back, and she
continued walking forward. As she did, the monster vanished as though it had
never been.
A little further up the path, a wall
suddenly rose before her, high and smooth as polished glass, and curving so the
sides turned behind her. But she carried on, and just as her foot was about to
touch it, the wall vanished. And so, at last, she arrived at the top of the hill,
where the Ogre’s fort rose with its immense stone ramparts outlined against the
sky.
As Butterfly had said, in a niche set into
the centre of the wall was a huge door of iron, which looked so formidable that
for a moment she considered ignoring the old Fairy’s advice and trying to look
for another way in. But she reminded herself that it was only because she had
followed the advice so far that she’d got here at all, and walked up to the
door.
Just before she reached it, though, there
was a tremendous baying noise and a horrible beast burst out of the niche,
rushing upon her. It was like a great hound in appearance, but had eyes that
burst out flame and teeth which dripped poison, and its fur was made of spikes
like a porcupine’s quills. Roaring, this dreadful creature hurled itself
towards Delight, and she felt its hot, stinking breath on her face. Perhaps she
might have turned and fled then, but she had a vision of old Butterfly’s face
telling her again that if she stepped back she would be turned into a dandelion
seed, so she stood her ground. Within touching distance of her the great animal
stopped, apparently baffled by her failure to flee, so that she walked past it
in complete safety. And when she pushed at the door, it swung open as though it
were as light as a feather.
Before her rose the staircase, and as she
went up it, she passed doors to left and right from behind which came noises,
groans and moans and others she could not identify. But she passed them by and
climbed to the door at the top, which was of bronze but opened to the touch of
her hand. She was in the small room at the very top of the tower, and all
around her were treasures the value of which she could not even guess at, gold
and silver, precious stones and works of art, all thrown and piled in
confusion. But on a little table of richly carved wood she saw a small bowl of
crystal, and in it, transparent as the air, was her jewel.
Suppressing a cry of triumph, she snatched
it up and left the room, quickly descending the staircase towards the door. She
had almost reached the foot of it when the floor beneath her began to tremble
and shake, and she realised that the Ogre Devourer had returned from wherever
he had gone. The next instant she saw him.
The foul creature had come from somewhere
at the back of the fort, and now came stomping up the staircase right towards
Delight. There was nowhere to go, no place to run. She stood frozen, watching
the Ogre stride up towards her, his evil eyes glowing beneath his loathsome
horn, his armoured skin twitching as he came. At any moment, she thought, he
would grab hold of her and tear her to pieces – but he passed her as though she
weren’t there, and went up the stairs. And then she remembered that she had not
stepped back even a pace, and it was that which had saved her.
Now running quickly, clutching the jewel to
her chest she rushed out through the door and past the guardian monster, who
snapped at her ineffectually. Soon she had passed the wall and the winged monster,
and had almost begun to believe herself safe. But then behind her came a great
roaring and the ground began once again to shake, so that she knew the Ogre had
discovered the theft and was rushing out after her, intent on vengeance.
There was no time to lose, so she ran as
fast as she could, and even took briefly to the air, but Fairy wings, you know,
aren’t meant for flying and can’t bear us long distances. However, she did
manage to reach the forest at the bottom of the mountain far enough ahead of
the Ogre that he hadn’t seen her.
And there, all of a sudden, she met
Butterfly again. The old Fairy caught hold of her arm and pulled her to one
side. “Have you got it?”
Hardly able to breathe, Delight nodded.
“Good. Let’s go, then.” And in the blink of
an eye, they were far away on the other side of the wood, in Butterfly’s own
little home.
“The Ogre will not find his way here,” the
old Fairy said. “But he will never stop looking for the jewel. For ever and
ever, till the end of time, he will seek it. So be on your guard always, and
whatever you do, never step back, for only if you do will Devourer’s magic
work.”
And from that day to this, no Fairy has
ever stepped backward, for any reason whatever.
*********************************
“We’re nearly there.” Luna stopped and pointed. “Do you see that
light?”
Peering into the darkness, Tung Ting Tak
could make out a flicker, like a distant flame. “Yes,” he said. “What place is
that?”
“You’ll see.” By now they were close enough
to see that the flicker came from the window of a little house. “Call her Old
Mother,” Luna hissed. “It’s a term of respect.”
“Whom?” Tung Ting Tak asked, but Luna had
already gone up to the door and was knocking on it.
“Come in,” a voice said, and an old, old
Fairy opened the door. Tung Ting Tak could tell she was old because her skin
was thin, translucent and wrinkled under her bright black eyes, and because the
fur on her head was so white it shone like silver.
“Well, Luna,” she said, as she led them
into a cosy little room which reminded Tung Ting Tak strongly of his parents’
dungeon. “What a pleasure to see you after so long. And who have you got there?”
She peered at Tung Ting Tak. “A young Goblin! What brings you so far from your
people’s home, child?”
Once again, Tung Ting Tak told his story. The
old Fairy listened, her head tilted on a side.
“First,” she said when he had finished, “you’re
going to have a meal and get warm and rested. Then we’re going to get you back
to your parents. You don’t know how lucky you’ve been, to come across Luna
here. The forest’s crawling with dangers for unwary young Goblins like you.”
“Dangers?”
“You don’t need to know about them now.
Hopefully you’ll never have to know.” The old Fairy spooned a thick stew out
into a bowl for Tung Ting Tak and some more for Luna. It was spicy and filled
him instantly with warmth. “Now rest while I do a couple of things. Sleep.”
“I’m not sleepy...” Tung Ting Tak began,
but he was. Suddenly he was very sleepy. Yawning, he put his head on
the table and shut his eyes...
***************************
“Wake up, Tung Ting Tak.” His mother’s voice sounded in his ear. “It’s
time to wake up now.”
Blinking, Tung Ting Tak sat up and looked
around. He was in his own bed in his niche in his parents’ dungeon. “Mother?”
“What? Get up or you’ll be late for
breakfast.”
“When did I...” Tung Ting Tak hesitated. “It
must’ve been a dream, I suppose.”
“What must have been a dream?” Mother
Goblin asked absently, but without waiting to hear the answer. “You ought to
comb your fur today,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s all tangled and dirty.
How many times have I told you...”
With a sigh, Tung Ting Tak shut his ears to
the nagging and got out of bed. The dream still seemed so real that he felt
disoriented. What a pity that if he told anyone about it they’d never believe a
word. Sighing, he had breakfast, combed his fur, and at his mother’s further
insistence cleaned his niche. It didn’t satisfy her though.
“Trim your claws,” she said. “They look
awful.”
“What’s the big deal?” Tung Ting Tak
grumbled as he scraped at his claws. He couldn’t complain to his father, who’d
left for work long since, but his father wouldn’t have backed him up anyway. “Is
royalty coming or something?”
“No,” Mother Goblin said from the living niche
of the dungeon. “But someone else is. Ah, here they are. Come here, son.”
Tung Ting Tak put down the scraper, came
into the living niche and stopped dead. His mouth fell open.
“Hello, Tung Ting Tak.” Luna’s wings
sparkled with golden-green light. She grinned. “You seem surprised to see us.”
“You...” Tung Ting Tak finally managed to
work his mouth. “But you’re a dream.”
“Dream, indeed,” Luna snorted. Turning, she
ushered forward the old Fairy. “Did you hear that, Old Mother? The child thought
we’re a dream.”
“It isn’t his fault,” the old Fairy said. She
smiled at Tung Ting Tak. “You’ve been through a lot, dear, but none of it was a
dream.”
“And she’s here to do your Blessing,”
Mother Goblin said. “She told us what you’d done when she brought you back
yesterday.” She hesitated. “She asked us not to punish you, because she said
you’re the hope of the future.”
“That’s right,” the old Fairy said. “It’s
only those who dare to take the initiative, who try new things and expand their
horizons, who can achieve anything. If your son had remained in the dungeons,
and had never gone outside, he would have been just another Goblin. But he’s
proved himself much more than that.”
“But don’t let that go to your head.” Luna grinned
again at Tung Ting Tak. “Can you guess who Old Mother is?”
And, suddenly, Tung Ting Tak knew. “Butterfly?”
“Great.” Luna ruffled his fur. “Old Mother
Butterfly it is. I thought you weren’t a stupid as you looked.”
“Shall we proceed?” Old Butterfly shuffled
forward, held her hand over Tung Ting Tak’s head, and muttered a few words in
an unknown language. The air hummed and crackled, and Tung Ting Tak’s fur stood
on end.
“That’s done, then.” Luna took Butterfly by
the arm. “We’ll be off.”
Tung Ting Tak blinked at them. “You’re
going? But –“
“But I’ll be back,” Luna said. “Old Mother
thinks, and I agree, that our two races have drifted too far apart altogether.
It’s time we began building relationships again.”
“And it’s not just us Fairies coming into
the dungeons,” Butterfly said. “Goblins need to start venturing outside again.
And we know who’s going to be the first to do that, don’t we?”
“I?” Tung Ting Tak asked. “Is it I?”
“Who else could it be?” Luna asked. “I’ll
take care of you, don’t worry. There’s so much for you to learn.”
“For both our races,” Butterfly said. “We
have so much to learn from each other.”
In
every end, there is a new beginning.
Copyright B Purkayastha 2013
