Fairy nuff ch1 rewrite

        “Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!”



        A strange noise from the hawthorn tree shattered the peaceful calm of the fairy grove.



“Paul, get down here and turn that thing off!” yelled the fairy perched on top of one of the toadstools. She tossed her head, her long blue hair sparkling in the sunlight.  Her wings arched out from her shoulders, for the most part still, but occasionally fluttering with every slight movement.



        “Paul, will you turn that thing off, NOW?” the blue fairy shouted daintily in the direction of the hawthorn. Opening her wings, she fluttered around the hawthorn, her wings opening to reveal the intricate patterns of veins visible through their delicate membrane. The reflected sunlight cast jewel-coloured shadows onto the nearby grass. Tiny shoots pushed through the soil underneath her, budding after minutes to create a host of flowers, bluebells, buttercups and daisies. Such was this fairy’s magic.





        “Beep! Beep!” The rhythmic melody continued its clanging.



      “Aggh!” She raised her hands to her ears, settling on the toadstool.  “What do you think Rex? Is it annoying you to?” she asked while she tickled the antennae of a long fat caterpillar, sat beside her on the toadstool.



Rex made a purring sound and rustled its lime green, spiky fur. The fairy gently stroked the caterpillar’s head, examining its collar, intricately fashioned from silver metal to resemble a daisy chain.  They both watched a slightly less graceful looking fairy march backwards and forwards between the toadstools that were sprinkled across the grove.



He was harder to spot as he strode across the meadow; his tunic and tights were almost the same shades as the leaves around him, giving the impression of rippling grasses blown by the breeze. Perched on his head was a hat that looked suspiciously like an acorn cup.



He stopped, picked a dandelion and blew.



“Tsk!” He gave a deep sigh and continued pacing.



He looked disapprovingly at the blue fairy. The blue fairy took no notice of his impatience, choosing to concentrate on the delicate melody of birdsong.



“Beep! Beep!”



The blue fairy flew off the toadstool, heading towards the hawthorn.



“Don’t make me come up there and get you Paul Nuff.” She called up to the tree.



The green fairy looked in the direction of the hawthorn and gave an extra loud “Tsk!” before pacing to the edge of the grove in search of yet another dandelion.



“Beep! Beep!” still the metallic notes rang out



"You know, dear, the coach will not get here any faster if you completely devastate the supply of clocks?” Mrs. Nuff snapped at her husband.



He stopped, looked directly at her for a few moments, then continued his pacing, mumbling under his breath.



His wife’s wings folded and unfolded matching the tempo of his pacing. She tossed the mane of blue hair, shaking her head in disbelief as the green fairy reached for yet another dandelion. As for her son…she turned her attention from her husband back to the hawthorn. “Paul, can’t you turn that thing down just a little?” She called up.



“No!” answered a dark figure hidden among the thorns.



Mrs. Nuff couldn’t help but notice that Paul looked quite ominous perched there upon the branches, his wings furled, hidden from the sunlight. To add to the sinister effect, Paul was wearing the new clothes he’d ordered from Earth especially for his trip.



"Honestly, what’s wrong with a good old fashioned tunic and nice green tights?” Mrs. Nuff shook her head in despair at her black-clad son, who pointedly ignored her remark. They’d already had this discussion before they left home. Paul gave a deep sigh, looked at her briefly from beneath a raised eyebrow, before continuing to stare intently at the object in his hand.



"What time did they say they’d be here?” Mr. Nuff asked, checking the dandelion clock yet again. “You know I need to get back to work.”



“They said midday. If work is that important, go back now, I will stay here.” Mrs. Nuff gave her husband that dared him to do just that.



“Its alright, its just, well, you know what he new lad is like, he’s probably asleep recovering from last night….and its today of all days the new order arrives, not tomorrow, not yesterday, oh no…”His voice faded as he paced off to the edge of the field.



“And anyway…” he spun around and flew back to where his wife stood watching him. “Oh never mind!”  He huffed as he saw the look on her face. Why did it have to be his son cavorting across to new realms?





Plucking up his courage, along with another dandelion, he turned back towards his wife. “I know she is your family, but why does it have to be Paul that goes?”



“She is the Queen, Oberon!” Mrs. Nuff looked shocked. “If she says Paul is the one to go then that is how it has to be.”



Mr. Nuff blew extra hard on the dandelion clock. I wish it would make the time magically be yesterday, he thought. Sighing, he watched the seeds drift away on the wind. That isn’t going to happen though, he thought, the Queen has decreed which fairy is to travel to Earth, and no lesser magic could change that, not even if I used up all the magic wishes in Faeirea. Why did it have to be my family she picked on? He complained to himself, knowing it would be pointless to wonder out loud. 



“It’s midday.” He said, holding the dandelion towards his wife, its solitary seed clinging to the face.





”Almost time” she gulped, without looking at her husband.



“They will be here in about ten minutes, but they have to make stops in a couple of the other magical realms first to pick up some more students. Here’s the timetable.” She held out a sheet of paper detailing the collection arrangements made for the exchange students.



“Yes!” Paul yelled triumphantly, as the metallic notes sounded across the glade yet again.





“Paul, put that thing away!” Mrs. Nuff glanced up at the hawthorn, her wingtips flaring outwards in a sudden flurry of irritation.



“Are you sure we’re at the right coach station dear?” Mr. Nuff walked towards his wife, the tiny tassel of his acorn hat bobbing from side to side with each step. His cheeks, always bearing a healthy glow, were beginning to look decidedly rosy as a result of his pacing.



“Paul, make that thing be quiet please?” Mr. Nuff shouted. 



“Whose idea was it to let him choose what he needed for the trip?” he asked his wife accusingly.



“I told you it was a silly idea to let him choose, but oh no, no one ever listens to me do they? Now we have to listen to that thing all day and all night, it’s driving me nuts!”  He turned and shouted his complaints towards the hawthorn.



The ‘thing’ stayed in Paul’s hand, its irregular beeps and irritating song sounding across the meadow that served as the coach station for this part of Faeirea. Paul’s eyes never left the tiny screen. He had perfected the teenager's art of ignoring his parents several months ago, now he seemed to barely hear them at all when they spoke.



“Well it won’t be driving you nuts for much longer, will it?” The tone of his wives voice stopped Mr. Nuff’s complaining for a little while.



“What is that thing supposed to be anyway?” Mrs. Nuff launched herself from her perch on the toadstool, fluttering gently to where Paul perched amongst the thorns; she hovered in midair behind him, peering over his shoulder at the miniscule moving images, which Paul controlled using a number of miniature buttons.



“Called a Gameboy,” Paul replied, glancing quickly over his shoulder, while never pausing his play.



“And that would be an Earth gadget then?” Mr. Nuff looked up towards the bowed head of his only son, and wondered, not for the first time during the last week, just where he’d gone wrong.



“Yep,” Paul didn’t bother to look up as he answered his father.  How many times I have to explain Earth technology to them, he wondered.  No matter how many times I tell dad about cars, and guitars and TV, it never seems to make a difference.



“Tell me again,” sighed Mr. Nuff.  He shook his head as he spoke to his wife “exactly why is this trip a good thing?”



Mrs. Nuff glided down from the hawthorn tree to land close to her husband. Her azure eyes meeting his from beneath raised eyebrows. She furled her wings gracefully behind her, and rested her tiny hands on her hips. Mr. Nuff nervously noticed the tips of her pointed ears were beginning to glow a delicate pink, always a bad sign.  He glanced quickly at a nearby blade of grass that seemed suddenly fascinating.



        “It’s to promote an understanding of the culture between Earth and the magical realms, including Faeirea. I told you that. We send some of our children there to learn about Earth culture,” Mrs. Nuff took her right hand from her hip, and held it out, palm upwards to her right to illustrate her point, “and some Human children come here to learn about us.” She stretched out her left hand in a similar manner. “See?”



Mr. Nuff noticed his wife’s wingtips were doing that thing they did when she was getting cross. Slowly they began to twitch, the curved tip seeming to move independently to the rest of the wing. A sudden flurry of dust fell from the tip, scattering itself across the ground round Mrs. Nuff’s feet. Within moments, the budding shape of thistles stabbed their way through the soil.



        “Beep! Beep! Beep!”



“And it had to be our son did it, no one else in the whole of the realm would do? “her husband asked.  “You know all the stories about that place. Barbaric they are, they imprison fairies you know? Lock them in glass bottles, just to steal their magic.” Now, suddenly, he thought, the new queen wanted to open up diplomatic relations.  Well, Oberon Nuff didn’t know why the queen couldn’t send her own sons out to explore the non-magical realms, and leave his son alone.







“That was centuries ago, things have changed now.” Mrs.  Nuff hoped that what she was saying was the truth. “Look, I don’t want him to go either,” She continued, “but what was I supposed to say? No your majesty, Paul can’t go? And anyway, he wants to go don’t you Paul?”



“Can’t wait!”  Paul shouted down to them. “Won’t have to listen to you two arguing and nagging.”



Mrs. Nuff looked at her husband with tearful eyes. “Can’t you just wait till after he has gone? Please.”



"Yes Dear,” Mr. Nuff not been married all these years without learning when to keep quiet.







“Beep! Beep! Beep!”



The persistent noise of the Gameboy broke into Mr. Nuff’s thoughts and he looked at his wife, locking his gentle green eyes with her steely blue ones.



“Paul! Turn that thing off and get down here now!” Mrs. Nuff was beginning to sound not quite so refined now; her nerves frayed from listening to both the repetitive noise and her husband’s constant complaints. As if she didn’t have enough to cope with today. The thought of sending her child off across the realms was bad enough. Who knew what manner of things he might be exposed to on his travels? When he came home he might be all grown up, not her little pixie at all. The thought of it all made her wingtips twitch harder and her ears turn coral pink. Spinning around from her husband to face the direction of her son she let all her emotions show in a single word.



"Paul!”



Paul recognized the tone of his mother’s voice as being final, switched off his toy and flew down from his perch in the hawthorn to land in the grassy clearing close to his parents. He had inherited his mother’s tall, slender frame rather than the rounder pixie-like form of his father. When Paul’s wings were unfurled in the sunlight, they sparkled with a myriad of crystal colours, amethyst, ruby and quartz. They were a colourful contrast to the black clothing he wore. His mother looked him up and down, shaking her head.



“Are you sure those are the correct clothes to be wearing Paul? They look a bit, well, nasty to me.” She pulled at the hem of the tunic-like garment Paul insisted on wearing. It felt horrible, so synthetic, not a bit like the flower-petal and leaf garments most fairies wore. But then again, she supposed most teenage fairies didn’t travel to different realms to go to school.



"Yes mum, I told you, it’s what all Earth teenagers wear. I have to try to fit in, and I’ll be different enough with these.” Paul unfurled his wings, relishing the warmth of the sunbeams as they danced on the membrane,” without dressing differently too.”



“You have beautiful wings!” Mrs. Nuff said, flexing the tips of hers to gently touch the expanded wings of her son.



“Mum!” Paul squirmed under his mother’s attention. Well, at least she hadn’t taken her handkerchief out yet and tried to rub any last minute dirt from his face, Paul thought.



“And these are normal clothes?” Paul though he caught a slight sarcastic tone in his mother’s question as she pointed to the red ‘Limp Lettuce’ motif splashed across the front her son’s clothing. He rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh, but chose not to answer his mother’s question.



“Oh well, at least the black goes well with your hair” Mrs. Nuff ran her hand down her son’s shoulder length curls, which gave off a metallic glow in the sunlight. She wrapped the end of a curl around her finger, intently watching the way it caught the rays.



“Don’t ever forget Paul, your silver hair is a mark of your royal blood.  Be proud of it.”



“I am, Mum.  I know what it means, the queen’s champion.” Paul laughed to himself; he didn’t feel much like a champion right now.



Slowly Mrs. Nuff raised a lock of hair towards her lips, gently kissing it, meeting the liquid silver eyes of her son’s with her own for a few moments. Tears flickered in the corners of her eyes, causing Paul to gulp back a sob.



“Mum!” Paul said, brushing away her hand, embarrassed by her show of affection, yet holding onto her fingertips for just a moment too long, with a tiny squeeze of the tips. Not too long, Paul didn’t know who might be watching.



Mrs. Nuff smiled up at her son. A smile that held all the warmth of the Heartfires that burnt to protect his home.





“Did you pack that ambrosia I gave you for emergencies?” Mr. Nuff asked. Paul patted the bulge made in his rucksack by the wooden box holding the powdered ambrosia before answering,



“Yes.”



“And your message spheres?” Mrs. Nuff frowned as she asked.



“Yes, twelve of them.” Paul showed his mother a small package he had in his bag.



A whistle sounded, just before a sudden gust swept across the clearing.



A giant orange sphere materialized close to the family of fairies. Paul gulped as a sudden wave of nervousness washed over him. Well, this is it, he thought, I wonder if it’s too late to change my mind?



Blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, Paul took a lingering look around the fairy glade. I never realized how beautiful this was before, he thought as he looked around.



He quickly flew over to where Rex waited, patting his head. “See you Rex, I hope you don’t metamorphosis before I get back,” he whispered.



The caterpillar raised its head and looked at Paul, before sniffing at the strange clothing in search of treats. Paul produced small piece of cabbage leaf, which he gave to his pet. Raising his head slightly and glancing around the clearing, checking to make sure no one was watching, Paul flung his arms around the caterpillar and gave him a fierce hug. “Look after Mum and Dad won’t you Rex, and the little sprites.” Paul was going to miss his younger sisters more than he would ever have admitted to them.



        “Paul. The coach is here. Come on!” Mr. Nuff shouted as he headed towards the orange ball.



        “Obviously!” grunted Paul, making sure his surly teenager image was securely in place before gathering together his bags and following his parents towards the coach.