Chapter 2

Chapter 2

There was once a woodcutter in the eastern forests. One day, the woodcutter encountered a large snake coiled in the center of a clearing. The woodcutter realized the snake had a fairy wrapped in its coils and was preparing to eat her. The woodcutter rescued the fairy by cutting off the snake’s head with his ax.

In gratitude, the fairy gave the woodcutter a small stone and told him the stone would grant him three wishes. The man went home to his wife and told her of the fairy’s gift. Delighted, she told her husband he must think of marvelous things to wish for, and sat him in front of the fire. The woodcutter sat for a long time, thinking of all the wonderful things he could wish for, but also thinking about how he was missing his dinner. The man began to think of food, and then began to wish for sausages.

In a flash, a dish of sausages appeared before him, and the stone in his hand grew smaller. His wife, seeing what the man had done, scolded him for making such a foolish, wasteful wish. To spite his nagging wife, the woodcutter wished for her nose to turn into a sausage as well. In another flash, the deed was done, and the wife shrieked in agony. The stone grew smaller yet.

The woodcutter, realizing what he had done, decided that he should help his wife, and so used his third and final wish to change her sausage back into a nose. In a flash, her nose returned, and the fairy’s stone disappeared.

         I think I need to take a moment to assure you that I am neither naïve nor an easy sell. I may have had childhood dreams of featuring in a fairy tale, and Alpinolo certainly surprised me, but I was not about to be taken in.

           I stepped from behind my dressing screen while doing up the buttons at the back of my dress. “Get me for what?” I surprised myself with how directly I spoke with this creature. For the moment, I ignored Alpinolo’s alleged knowledge of my character �" I had a feeling that he and I would be spending a lot of time together.

A conspiratorial grin spread over Alpinolo’s face. “An adventure!”

           “Ahuh,” I mumbled. Nonplussed, I decided to go for practical first and fantastic second. “Listen, I would love to hear your story, but this is not the time or place for us to be having a discussion. I need to go downstairs to have breakfast with my family. If you really want to talk with me, meet me at the koi pond in the garden in an hour.” As well as being the truth, I half-hoped that the fairy was no more than a morning illusion, and that I would be alone in the garden.

           The fairy nodded, a grin barely contained within the bounds of his face. He performed a flourishing bow, turned on his toes, and began to strut towards the door. “Wait!” I grabbed him by the tail without thinking.

           Alpinolo turned on me with an indignant scowl.

           “Sorry,” I gasped, “but where are you going?”

           “Out to the garden.” His tone was remarkably matter-of-fact.

           “Oh, no, no, no. You can’t, not out the door and through the whole house!” I ushered him toward the window. “Please, you can’t be seen �" for your own safety.” And for my sanity, I thought as I buckled my shoe and hurried into the hallway.

           As I said, my father is a baron, so we are not wanting for wealth and decadence in excess. I traipsed down the long wooden hallway, counted all twenty-five steps down the filigreed staircase, and clicked across the broad tiled foyer in my shiny black shoes. The door to the dining room (the family dining room, not the grand dining room) stood ajar, allowing me a view of my family seated at the table and the large fireplace at the end of the long room.

           I scooted around the back of my father’s chair at the head of the table to my place next to my older sister, Marcy. Across the table, my mother daintily put down her teaspoon, pursed her lips, and in an icy voice said, “Brina, you are late to join us.”

           “Good morning, Father. Good morning, Mother. Good morning, sisters. I am sorry I am late,” I mumbled into my egg cup. Danielle, the third sister, sitting next to my mother, snorted into her napkin and made eyes at me �" all four of my sisters think I am awkward and that my priorities are never straight.

           Our priorities do not differ that much, honestly, but we see the world in very different ways. While I may fantasize about starring in a fairy tale, my feet are solidly on the ground, and I enjoy reading, walking in the garden, and painting. My sisters, similarly, all prefer to be treated like princesses, and they enjoy shopping for dresses, shopping for jewelry, and doing their hair.

           Our handmaid entered just then, toting a silver tray laden with mail. First, my father received his newspaper and a letter from Prince Charming XV. Secondly, my mother received not one, not two, but five different invitations to teas at other estates. Thirdly, Marcy received a brief note from a young gentleman. Lastly, Danielle, Daphne, and Emma received a group invitation (actually addressed to all five of us) for a young people’s ball. “Oh,” sighed Daphne, “I wish I had bought that perfect blue dress the other day, it would be simply darling for this event.”

“I wish I had not broken the thread on my string of pearls,” whined Danielle.

           Emma, not wishing to be outdone, said, “I wish I had a fairy godmother to make me a new dress and a carriage for the ball!”

           Silence. Absolute, stunned silence. A silence so loud I could hear the dramatic fall of my mother’s stiff smile. My father grunted roughly, a gesture not often heard in our upscale home.

           My eldest sister did not fail for words, however. She took it upon herself to remonstrate the youngest sister vigorously. “Emma! How could you say such a thing! That was altogether prideful, imprudent, and treasonous! You should be ashamed.”

           “Marcy,” my father growled, “enough.” He turned his glower on Emma at my right elbow, so I shifted my gaze to the napkin in my lap. “Young lady, you know very well that a statement such as that will not be tolerated under my roof. Have you forgotten when I was a young man, fought and was wounded so that you may live in a kingdom untroubled by magical beings?”

           I tried not to allow my face to betray me. True, my father had fought and been wounded during the Magic Scour, but had it been necessary? Moreover, had it been good for Faragwaine? The Tamsin family may still be prosperous, but I have seen the pages of my father’s newspapers, and I know that many citizens are struggling without our kingdom’s former economic foundation.

           I ate the rest of my breakfast as swiftly as possible while maintaining some ladylike manners. The uncomfortable silence of the dining room was painfully thick, so I asked to be excused as soon as I finished. Mother seemed loathe for me to leave the table before the rest of the family, but I have no idea why she wanted to hold any of us to suffer a moment longer than necessary in the stifling silence of the breakfast room.

           Although I had an appointment waiting for me on the edge of the pond in the garden, I took a detour to the library. I located the book I needed, a thick old tome with hand-cut pages and gilding on the spine. Hoping my withdrawal would not be noticed, and if it was, that it would not be taken for cheek in the face of this morning’s uncomfortable conversation, I clutched the ornate volume to my chest and hurried out to the garden.

           There are few moments more lovely than being the first person to soak one’s shoes in the sweet dew on morning grass. Each droplet shines as a tiny magnifying bubble, a spherical microcosm. What tiny worlds might lie within? Not only that, but the sweet soft warmth of the sun on my hair feels enchanting, and any light breeze stirs the trees, flowers, and grasses into ballet.

           With these placid observations, I walked across the lawn and into the bower created by a trellis covered in clematis and moonflower. I felt lucky to view the trellis in full flower, as the white moonflowers closed for the day and the purple clematis opened. On the far side of the trellis, the koi pond rose out of the lawn, nested in white stonework. Under the water swam fish large and small decorated with flourishes of orange, gold, white, and black. The fishes’ swimming caused the water lilies to spin and dance.

           My heart jumped into my throat. There, on the edge of the stonework with his tail laid out on the ledge, sat Alpinolo, dangling his small toes in the crystalline water. Before he noticed me standing there, I took a moment to breathe slowly. “He’s real,” I thought, “he’s actually alive…”

           “Hello.”

           The fairy turned his globe-like eyes on me expectantly. “Breakfast was interesting, was it not?” He blinked slowly.

           What could I say to that? “Enjoying the garden? It’s such a nice morning.”

           “Come now, Brina, you must learn that you cannot distract me with chit-chat. If we are to work together, you must be able to answer my questions. How else can I answer yours?”

           Fair enough. I sat down beside him with my back to the pond, my ankles coyly crossed and my skirt demurely arranged, the tome in my lap.

           “That’s a girl. What do you have there?” he pointed to my book.

           “I will listen to what you have to say, but I would like to compare your story to our history book. Is that agreeable to you?

“I will not waste the time we have at the moment disputing your ‘history book.’ I hope that soon you will meet others who can. Instead, for now I will appeal to your sense of decency, and perhaps also your sense of adventure.

           “The basic facts are simple: hundreds of years ago, the kingdom of Faragwaine became a hub for magical beings. Thousands of events, both large and small, felt the influence of magic and were remembered ever after as ‘fairy tales.’” He swished his own tail thoughtfully in the grass. “Not all magic was ‘good,’ and that is understandable; how can one have good without evil? However, the royal family of Faragwaine could not or would not concede this simple fact of existence. Further, who in the world can say they truly have the authority to decide which creatures should be permitted to live, and which not? The Magic Scour did not destroy a handful of artifacts, it destroyed whole populations and cultures of living beings.

           “The judgment handed down by ‘Sleeping Beauty’ was based solely on that dreaded emotion, anger, and therefore did not take into account the several benefits that magic held for Faragwaine. I hope some of these will sound familiar to you. One, a large segment of this kingdom’s economy placed its entire dependence on magic and magical creatures �" consider elves making shoes, creatures that turn objects into gold, the lucrative medicinal potion trade, and the salaries of humans and creatures who served as guides on adventures. Two, the adventures themselves set Faragwaine apart from surrounding kingdoms as a destination spot for vacations and quests. Three, magical creatures contribute extensively to the biodiversity, and therefore overall health, of the kingdom’s natural resources.”

           I nodded, unimpressed. I had heard these reasons, so they were nothing new, but I had also heard the arguments against these points, the royal family’s insistence that we in Faragwaine were better off on our own, reforming our country and economy with our bare hands and denying our former reliance on magic and magical creatures.

           “Yes,” said Alpinolo slowly, since my thoughts were plain in my face, “but I think you know in your heart the most important reason for magic to stay in Faragwaine.”

           I sucked in my breath. I felt so foolish, recalling what now seemed like a silly childhood fantasy, my desire to feature in a fairy tale. Now that I had seen a real fairy tail, my mind whirled. Still, the answer was there, deep in my heart.

           Alpinolo gazed expectantly at me, his large eyes shining and his fingers twitching. “You know the answer,” he said in a low voice, “and someday you will have the courage to say it out loud.”

           I sat stunned for a moment, almost as if I had been placed under a spell. How could I believe this strange creature who had appeared in my bedroom this morning and was now questioning everything I had been raised to understand? Which parts of our history could I still believe? Why was I questioning our written history at all?

           Far too many questions circled my head. I bent and splashed cold pond water on my face, not caring at all that it was “unladylike.” What could I possibly say? Alpinolo leveled a cool gaze on me and waited.

           I sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

           The fairy smiled calmly and got to his feet. “Simply, to do what you think is best. I have, in just a few moments, reminded you of the important points. From here, I ask you to make your own decision. If you wish, you may start your adventure. On the other hand, if you wish, you can return to your home and forget I spoke with you.”

           He waited. I waited. At seventeen years old, how could I know for certain which path was right? For me? For my family? For my country? For my new friend? Which path was safest for me physically? Emotionally? Would leaving my family free me? Would I be arrested or killed? Was there even the slightest chance that I could get what I wanted? What did I want? The moment grew longer; I’m not sure either one of us was breathing.

           His face never changed, but slowly, ever so slowly, Alpinolo got to his feet, turned, and walked off into the shadows of the garden verge.

           As the tip of his tail was lost to my view, my heart fell. Here was my chance, and had I just tossed it away? A fire lit under me, and I was halfway back to the house before I realized how fast I was running. “That’s a wonderful speed,” I mumbled as I slowed my pace, “if one wants to get caught by one’s overly suspicious mother.” Indeed, now that I had decided to act, how would I avoid arousing suspicions? What, in fact, was I planning to do?

           I was unhindered by my family as I returned to my bedroom. The best I could do for a knapsack was a tooled leather bag that occasionally held books. Into this I stuffed the history book, a washcloth, an extra dress, and the hidden breeches I kept for climbing trees. I never knew how much space clothing could take up in packing! My bag was already full, and I dared not stuff it further for fear of discovery on my way out.

           Rather than the formal staircase, for this excursion I followed the narrower back stairway down to the kitchen. Our cook was the only one about, for my luck. “Where you going, Miss Brina?”

           “Good morning, Anna. I’m taking Stella out for a ride.” I grabbed two apples with a smile, and a few rolls once her back was turned. The kitchen door led to the yard between the house and the stable. Wishing under my breath that the stable would be empty, I pushed open the door and stepped into the dusty darkness. Luckily, my wishes were granted, and I was left to saddle Stella myself.

           My horse is named for one of the early princesses of Faragwaine, the daughter of Cinderella. Stella seemed to know that it was not a normal day, because she did not whinney or stamp as I approached. On her back I tossed a blanket and the saddle, and around her head I placed a halter. Stella nuzzled my shoulder as we walked into the garden.

           How far could Alpinolo have gone while I was in the house? Was he walking, or had he disappeared? Could he fly? I dared not hesitate. My heart in my mouth, I jumped astride Stella and bade her run through the garden in the direction the fairy had gone.

Author's Note

I'm serious about finishing this book and making it appealing to the YA audience -- please help me polish it!

Reviews

[lemon_zest]

I liked your dining table scene. It portrayed the hierarchy of the family very well. I also liked how Brina's thoughts are portrayed. She seems like a flighty 17 year old who is confused, dreaming, and happy at the same time. She yearns for excitement which is very relatable to a YA audience.

I have one technical point which is the difference between Brina and her sisters. You mention that Brina enjoys painting, and fairy tales while her sisters enjoy princess things - feminine things like shopping etc. Yet Emma at the dining table brings up the fairy god mother and the carriage which implies that she also has these fantasies. I don't mean to nitpick but maybe instead of princess things as the difference, the right word would be that they are more vain? obsessed with appearance. this way you can mention Emma's fairy godmother fantasy along with separating Brina from her sisters. Please be careful with the princess stereotype as well.

[DaughterNature]

That's a very fair point. And I guess I again meant the Disney 'princess,' the way they're so often portrayed in popular media. There are a few good examples of strong princesses (Paper Bag Princess, Once Upon a Mattress, etc), but they're still mostly stuck in the patriarchal stereotype. The whole idea behind Brina's journey is learning that you don't need magic or fairy tales to have a good, interesting, and romantic life, but I can certainly work on my character development here.

[SweetNutmeg]

I am an easy reader in that I accept that things will become clear if I keep reading. I am hoping the connection between the fairy tale in italics and the rest of the narrative will become clear. I assume the choice of fairy tale is not random. That is my one structural comment. Otherwise this is a great chapter. For nitty gritty details, I have these observations:

"wealth and decadence in excess" feels redundant, decadence implies excess.

In describing walking in the dew, you use "sweet" twice. Personally, I wouldn't use it at all. You can trust your reader to get the sweet feeling without spelling it out. The rest of your description in that section is quite sufficient.

I'm looking forward to reading about Brina's coming adventures.

[DaughterNature]

The note about "sweet" is great, thank you! As for the "wealth and decadence in excess," it was intentional that it was redundant - I was trying to make a language joke, but maybe it doesn't work?

As for the italicized fairy tale, it's not necessarily something to "accept" or something that should become clear. I did try to pick fairy tales that seemed to fit with the plot for each chapter, but basically italics anywhere in this text means that it is taken from a book. As you read further (not to give anything away), Brina will read versions of events that have taken place in her world, as well as receiving verbal accounts of events from her new acquaintances. Eventually, Brina will begin to write a book of her own. So, for now, assume that the fairy tales are there because it's a world of fairy tales, and a book about fairy tale lore, and a way for the reader to decide which version of events to believe (it's also a cool way to expose readers to more obscure/non-European fairy tales!).

[SweetNutmeg]

I still feel like I have to go on faith that the italicized part will make sense by and by. If these fairy tales are eventually revealed as being from texts she is studying and people she talks to, well I have to wait for that revelation. This is is my reaction as a reader, not a writer's reaction.As it stands, as a reader, I am confused as to what the connection is between the italicized fairy tale and our narrative about Brina.

[DaughterNature]

That's fair. I guess I can only hope to polish it as I revise (after I finish the first draft, of course!)

[SweetNutmeg]

May I make a suggestion? I am absolutely carefree about suggesting cutting things, but I hesitate to put something in someone's mouth. But I think it would solve a lot of the confusion for me.

[DaughterNature]

Go crazy - I'm open to anything (except one time on here when a guy just completely re-wrote one of my poems instead of providing criticism).

[SweetNutmeg]

If you included a citation at the end of the fair tale, it would indicate that someone somewhere is reading or hearing these tales. I'd be happy not knowing who, just that they aren't floating out there with no relation to the narrative. Example:

Fairy tale, blah blah, fairy tale, the end.
~Fairy tale book X

[DaughterNature]

That's not a bad idea at all. Thanks! :)