Moonchild, A Faerie's Tale Episode 1: Eleanor

Not all Faerie tales are warm and fuzzy. This novella is based on my short story with the same title.

 

Just a bit after dawn on a Wyoming County farmstead, garden faerie Moonchild floated across the yard, just a pale greenish glow reflected on the nighttime’s teary dew. She made her way in undulating flittering fashion from low flowerbed to high birdbath fountain and back low to settle on the white farmhouse’s first porch step. Moonchild noticed a struggling monarch butterfly. The orange and black beauty favored a droopy wing that was apparently injured

            “You can’t go on with a hurt wing, dear friend,” Moonchild said in her tiny ethereal voice. “I can understand how badly off you are this way. Here I can help you,” she said, touching the damaged wing.

Concentrating, her glow seeped from her long slender fingers into the butterfly’s wing. It weakened Moonchild only a little as the butterfly’s hurt wing became as full and rigid as the other. The monarch butterfly tried the renewed wing by fluttering about Moonchild’s head and making her giggle.

“There! Soon you will be well enough for a long journey,” Moonchild said as the butterfly energetically flew off. 

As she watched the butterfly, the early morning illumination revealed Moonchild’s elegant features: a dainty tipped-up nose, soft pointed ears, depthless blue on silver eyes, lips like a pink wild rose, graceful flaxen hair restrained by a fine twine of Motherwort, and the pride of all faeries�"faerie wings�"her wings were as gossamer embroidered with stitches of gold. She wore a one-piece gauzy gown that covered her all the way down to her tiny bare feet.   

****

Earlier, before dawn and her brief encounter with the butterfly, Moonchild had flittered about in her usual initial farmstead survey her cheery glow perceptible to nary a soul. The residents of the farmhouse had remained sound asleep at that early hour, confirmed by the family master’s rasping snore sounding from the open upstairs window. Moonchild knows the family’s routine by rote, and before the rest of the family awakens, she knows master will rouse to tend the farm animals.

Moonchild moved along in her survey, flittering here and spying about there, and as always, she drew near the farm animals’ contentedness in the cool morning’s calm. She flicked into the large red barn, hovering near the grand workhorses lying quietly in their straw-bedded stalls. The gentle powerful horses doze though are aware this springtime will bring countless days of pulling the burdensome plow, lugging heavy agricultural implements, or perhaps the easier task of drawing the wagon to retrieve supplies from the nearby village of Perry. Moonchild fluttered on.

 Speeding around to the barnyard, Moonchild watched the black and white cows, several with calves nearby, all lying half-asleep contentedly chewing their overnight cuds, ready for another daylong of pasture grazing. At the henhouse, Moonchild hurriedly flittered past the chickens sitting in their triple row of nesting boxes, their white feathers ruffled out over the eggs hidden beneath. The chickens do not pay Moonchild any attention, and she does not care for them all that much either because they often hunt her insect friends.

With minutes remaining before sunup, Moonchild toned down her glimmer as she levitated to the second story haymow and feather-lightly settled on a dusty stack of last summer’s hay. She carefully parted a tuft of hay to peek through at the two-day old kittens. The five-kitten babies slept curled up against mother Orangecat’s warm furry belly. Always on alert, Orangecat detected Moonchild’s approach and with a soft mew as way of cordial morning, she regarded the faerie quietly to not disturb the newborns. Moonchild dipped her head in silent regard, and she backed away without disturbing a single stem of hay. She flittered out the crack in the big door and rose up to the barn’s eaves.

Tucked beneath the edge of the barn roof, the swallows were wakeful though perching unmoving in their mud and twig nest porticos. Moonchild provided a gesture of greetings while continuing up to the barn’s gamble-roofed peak to sit on the crystal globe pierced by the iron lightning rod. She loved how the glass globe absorbed her glow, and there she lingered a few seconds, waiting for the opening eastern sunrise of another exquisite day. As she waited, the curtain of darkness lifted, and the salt-sprinkled stars dissolved into the soon to be glorious blue sky. 

As the sun’s orange curve edged above the rolling fields’ horizon, Moonchild saw the family master step out on the porch with the floorboards giving a slight creak of protest. The large bearded man was dressed today as always in blue denim bib coveralls, a long-sleeve plaid shirt, and straw-brimmed hat. He paused a moment to scan the sky and his precious fruitful farmland, but his scan stopped with head tilted up at the barn’s roof where Moonchild sat. She gasped and edged around to behind the globe, wondering if he had spied her minute glow, but he dropped his gaze and proceeded to the barn.

Moonchild let out her breath. She has never confirmed a grownup acknowledging her presence, but sometimes she was just not sure… The master walked across the lawn and the human-sized door audibly opened and closed below. She heard the horses’ muffled whinnies and heavy thumping as the team arose to their large feathered hooves for their morning oats. Moonchild beheld another day in full blossom, but she had chores of her own.

Zooming down to the backyard, Moonchild settled in the dew-laden grass near her pristine faeriedial. Carefully brushing the towering moon daisies aside, she stepped inside the dial’s ring and determined the proper positions for the circlestones. After studying the dial a few seconds, she gasped with the promise of what the dial indicated for this season. With excitement, she started by tipping up the circlestone colored blue-gray with quartz crystal flecks that on edge rose to well above her waist�"three human inches. She rolled the bright blue stone to the outer edge of the ring and to the northeast, and then twisting it a bit, reestablished its position and satisfied with the orientation, she let it drop into place. She repositioned the other circlestones in order: the black and white spotted stone, the silver-flecked brown one, and finally her favorite, the greenish shiny circlestone called the moonstone. Shown in her dial, Moonchild now confirmed today was the spring equinox and with her tiny heart beating fast in wonderment�"a blue moon this spring! The equinox meant today was the first day of spring, but coupled with a blue moon, it promised to be a truly exceptional spring.

Literally walking on air, Moonchild hovered past her burrow to the brook that trickled through the tame wilds, and to where the young willow stood unmoving in the morning calm. The willow’s sinuous streamers draped down low, but they still hung above Moonchild’s head as she settled to the ground.

She spied the green nose and eyes of Buford Bullfrog in the brook’s shallows. She smiled and standing on a stone leaned over to tenderly touch his slick wetted forehead. Startled, he twitched and his green-encircled brown eyes flickered open. Eying Moonchild’s staring intention, he stretched his bulbous body from his muddy bed and throated up a flippant daytime croak. Old pals, Moonchild often sat with him in the dark of night as he croaked his sub-bass concerto for the lady frogs.

Always keeping her senses attuned, Moonchild heard low bumps and steps from within the house and saw the first wisp of blue smoke from the farmhouse’s tall chimney. She knew Mother had started a fire in the stove to prepare breakfast for the household, and with that, Moonchild knew that Eleanor would rise very soon, and that made her so very glad.

 

****

 

After helping the butterfly regain its flight, Moonchild rose up from the step and sneaked through her secret portal near the farmhouse backdoor. She carefully made her way past the kitchen’s open door where Mother worked at the black and sea green wood cookstove. Moonchild continued to the front room where the huge grandfather clock sat against the wall, ponderously thumping off the seconds that made for a pleasantly long day.

Right after the master proudly had moved the clock in, Moonchild snuck inside it, completely unaware of what a clock like that does. When the massive clock struck the hour with thunderous chiming bells, it scared the beejeesus out of her and temporarily deafened her tiny sensitive ears. Over time, she learned that the clock only strikes when the long, elegantly sculpted hand points straight up or down. Having learned that and overcoming her fear, Moonchild again sneaks into the clock’s works to watch the huge burnished brass pendulum swing back and forth while listening to the symphony of metallic clicks, ticks, and wheel-whirls.

Moonchild began floating up the staircase when she heard heavy thumping footsteps coming down. It was Joseph! She quickly hid, flattened tightly against a stair riser halfway up. She had seen Joseph being mean to small animals when the grownups or sisters were not watching and because of this, Moonchild distrusted him immensely, giving him as much berth as the big clock at striking time. After he hurtled past going downstairs, she continued upstairs.

Moonchild adored the two girl children in the house, but only the youngest, sweet little Eleanor, could see Moonchild or converse with her. Moonchild understood older Elizabeth gave her faeriekind a manner of credit for the backyard faeriedial and the pretty array of stones and crystals, but frankly, she knew Elizabeth did not believe. In Moonchild’s experience, she knew most households held nary a soul holding sufficient belief to perceive and acknowledge their resident faerie. On the other hand, Eleanor saw, heard, and spoke to Moonchild everyday, and they were the best of friends, though carefully guarded their friendship against detection by the likes of Joseph or the grownups.

Elizabeth rolled out of the bed the girls shared and pulled on her long work dress when Moonchild scooted by undetected. Moonchild saw Eleanor had not risen from bed and thought she should surprise Eleanor after Elizabeth departed downstairs. Moonchild waited patiently in the darkness under the bed watching and tuning her ears toward Eleanor for indications of movement.

Suddenly, the dark beneath the bed escaped with the lifting of the bed skirts! Moonchild saw Elizabeth’s face peering under the bed, and Moonchild instantly saw why�"she searched for her shoes. In shock of their simultaneous discoveries of each other, Elizabeth and Moonchild gasped. Moonchild swiftly flittered backwards and rammed her head into the bed rail producing a barely audible bump. Elizabeth let out a shriek, dropped the bed skirt, and fell backward on her butt with a very solid thump on the floor.

“Eleanor! Get out of bed!” Elizabeth cried. “Something, a light, a huge moth, a faerie, or SOMETHING is under the bed. It�"she LOOKED AT ME!”

“What?” asked Eleanor groggily.

“Girls!” Their mother shouted up the stairs. “You better not be quarreling!”

“A faerie!” Elizabeth whispered loudly, pointing and shrinking back away from the bed. “Or something is under there ready to get me!”

Eleanor quickly rolled over and crouched on the featherbed quilt top, putting a finger to her lips.

“Sssshhhhh! Quiet, Liz. Don’t tell!”

“Tell what, Nell? That ain’t supposed to be there under MY BED,” she scolded.

“Our bed, sister. Be quiet. You don’t believe in faeries anyway. Look now, there’s nothing there, never been anything there.”

 “Since when are you a KNOW it all?” Elizabeth said, her face all scrunched up.

“I’m NOT a know it all, look for yourself,” Eleanor said, watching Elizabeth cautiously inch toward the bed skirt and warily picking up the edge. Eleanor crossed her fingers on both hands and whispered to herself, “you better not be there, Moonchild.”

Acting as something will jump out and bite her, Elizabeth held her head to the side as far away from the bed where she could reach and peer under the bed at the same time. Eleanor looked over her shoulder and searched about, scanning for Moonchild. She saw a soft glowing head poke out from underneath the goose down-filled pillows. Eleanor smiled�"then sobered when Elizabeth rose up above the bed’s edge to face her. With a hand behind her back, Eleanor waved Moonchild away, and the faerie slid back under the pillow.

“So scaredy-cat, what was under there?” Eleanor asked.

“Nothing I guess,” Elizabeth said, lowering her voice. “Sometimes, just sometimes, I believe you and your faerie princess stories.”

“I don’t tell you any faerie princess stories,” Eleanor said; then, added in a whisper toward the pillow. “Anymore.”

“I remember the stories you used to tell me,” Elizabeth said, pulling on her retrieved shoes. “Faeries and such things.”

“Oh, I was SUCH a child then,” Eleanor said in a grown-up voice while smiling toward the reappearing glow.

“Girls�"GIRLS!” Mother shouted from below. “Come down for breakfast right now! Your father is waiting, and he has work to get done!”

“Yes, mother!” The girls answered together.

“Come on slow-poke,” Elizabeth said, skipping out of the room and clip-clopping down the stairs.

“Moonchild, come out,” Eleanor whispered.

Moonchild crawled out from beneath the pillow and sat on the bed sheet.

Eleanor pointed, “There you are. Be careful will you?”

“I didn’t get caught now did I my young missy?” Moonchild said, confidently slapping her thigh.

“Close, that was close, and Elizabeth’s the safer one,” Eleanor whispered, slowly pulling on her clothes. “I have to go eat. See you at the usual place.”

Leaning down close to Moonchild, she smiled with a wink.

Moonchild winked back with arms crossed across her chest. “I think I’ll go with you to try some big people breakfast.”

Eleanor froze and turned, whispering, “What! Are you crazy?” 

“Just seeing what you would think,” Moonchild said, hovering and waving goodbye with wiggling fingers.

“Thank you ma’am for that little fright,” Eleanor curtsied, left out of the room, and stepped unhurriedly down the stairs.

Moonchild leaned back into the pillow’s still warm depression next to Eleanor’s white-faced china doll and happily watched the little girl depart. Moonchild wondered a bit about the encounter that just took place�"and Eleanor. She soon heard the clicking of metal to china and the light conversation about field cultivation and husbandry�"whatever that meant. She sighed and floated up and out through the cracked-open window to her special place in the backyard.

After a short while, the door flew open and Joseph ran out. He headed out to the barn and Moonchild heard the horses stomping about again. The master then trudged out to the horse’s stalls, and Elizabeth followed with a hop and a skip carrying a shiny pail out to milk the cows. Moonchild’s glow increased when she saw Eleanor come out with her morning chore wicker basket. Eleanor came across the backyard and through the trees and thicket of grapevines and bushes.

“And a very good morning to you, young missy,” said Moonchild, hanging from a leafy lilac branch.

Eleanor sat down. “I wasn’t quite sure,” she took a deep breath, “what you were up to this morning, my faerie friend.”

“I have to say�"it was exciting and FUN!” Moonchild said, flittering down to sit in the grass next to Eleanor. “But my intention did not turn out the way I planned.”

“Which was�"?”

“Oh actually, I though peeking out from under the bed sitting in one of your shoes would be a fun surprise,” Moonchild said.

 “Hmmm, maybe, but I think you did that already.” Eleanor looked at her shoe and coughed a short hack. “I have to go gather eggs. Mother will be upset if I dawdle too long.”

“I understand,” said Moonchild. “Hey! After, want to play hide and seek?”

“Maybe. I’ll see how I feel.” Eleanor said, slowly got up and walked away.

Moonchild sat down and watched her go. The sun’s warmth had already dried the dew and the day flowers began to open in response. A fresh tulip perked beside her and Moonchild rose up to breathe in its strong early fragrance, almost colliding with a fuzzy striped honeybee on his single-minded calling to extract nectar from the same flower. Moonchild flittered back and waved him in. She watched closely as he swiveled about inside the flower getting his legs all spotty yellow with pollen in the process. He was then off to another flower and another before he buzzed away out of sight.

            Moonchild heard master shouting to Joseph about his jack knife being lost, but that he had used it earlier that morning. Listening closer, she heard snickering and chittering in the front of the barn. Pixies! She knew they struck again, so she flew quickly but cautiously kept cover to where she heard the snickering. There, the three scrawny pranksters argued over master’s shiny jackknife. Moonchild hardly got involved with their devilish little jokes knowing that if someone saw her with their object of desire they would think SHE was the one misplacing their things. Besides, there were three of them to carry the jackknife, and she alone could not lift it.

As she watched, the sniveling pixies shuffled, scrambled, and argued along the walkway to the house. Snittering and chattering, the gaunt red creatures went around the house three times lugging the knife through the bushes, flowers, and under and over the porch, apparently looking for a way inside the house.

Moonchild was entertained by their antics, but she knew they were always up to no good. Usually they snuck inside while a human was not watching, but no one came in or went out, so they carried the knife up on the porch. Standing on one another’s shoulders, they hoisted the knife up and laid it on the porch railing. Overly ecstatic with their feat, they rolled around on the floor holding their skinny bodies in raucous snittering fits of laughter. Moonchild had to grin with their perpetual amusement, though she did not like the pain their pranks put her humans through. She zoomed over to the chicken roost to find Eleanor with a nearly full basket of eggs she could barely lift.

            “Eleanor, your help is needed. Hear your father? Pixies again.”

            “I heard and suspected them,” Eleanor said, setting the basket down.

            “The pixies took his knife and put it on the porch railing. I’m sure he’d find it later, but it sounded like he needed it now.”

            “Yes, father gets upset when his things get misplaced. I’ll go tell him.”

            “No, no, NO! Remember?” Moonchild hovered in front of Eleanor holding her hands up. “If you tell him outright, he’ll figure something is going on about you, me, the pixies�"well, he suspects the pixies anyhow, I heard him say so.”

            “Ahh, like last time,” Eleanor said, with a finger to her head. “I’ll offer to look for him.”

            “Good. No, wait! Ask him what he lost and don’t find it TOO easily.”

            Eleanor smiled at Moonchild, “You certainly are the smartest faerie I know.”

            “I am the only faerie you know.”

They burst into laughter, but suddenly, the chicken roost door opened�"it was Joseph.

            “What’s so funny in the chicken roost?” Joseph sourly said.

            “Oh, ah�"the chickens are funny,” Eleanor said, glancing at Moonchild hiding in a roosting box waving her arms, making a face, and shrugging. Eleanor giggled again.

            “Funny chickens, Nell? Help me find father’s jackknife.”

            “Where’d he have it last?” Eleanor asked, straight-faced in all the sincerity she could muster.

            “I don’t know for sure. He needed it to cut some rope and cannot find it.”

            “All right, I’ll help look.”

A few seconds later with Moonchild hanging in the horse’s feed troughs, Eleanor went through the motions of searching for the knife, while father continued harnessing the horses for the field.

“I don’t see it, father,” Eleanor said. “I have to take the eggs to mother, maybe she has a knife in the house you can use.” Father nodded intent on his work.

            “Fine,” Joseph said, using a pitchfork to sift through the straw.

            Moonchild glided along as Eleanor lugged the basket of eggs to the house and set it down on the porch.

            “Here it is,” Moonchild said, pointing it out on the railing but scanning around knowing the pixies were hanging about to witness their dirty work. Eleanor picked up the knife and began trotting back to the barn but stopped to cough before going inside. Moonchild went back to her special place in the tame wilds to wait for Eleanor’s return.

            In a few moments, Eleanor came to join Moonchild. She coughed and said, “Father could not imagine how the knife came to lay on the railing, but he was VERY pleased to have it back. He said it is his favorite, like me, his favorite little ray of sunshine.”

“You are named Eleanor after all, after the sun’s brightest ray,” Moonchild said with a smile and a bright glow.

As they went to the backyard to play hide and seek, Moonchild worried over something she felt wrong in Eleanor. That night, she wished on the new blue moon for happy tidings.

Reviews

[wondering]

this is imaginative and so far a good little story, hope ther is more to follow, wouldn't leave me hanging now would you? good content, easy yo follow. I like it.