Fairy Nuff chap1

Chapter 1 of a novel in progress.All comments appreciated.

Chapter 1- Faeirea

         Tall trees hedged the meadow, their leafy spires reaching high into the clouds. Birds darted between the leaves, occasionally breaking free from their companions to fly across the open sky. In the centre of the glade was an old, gnarled hawthorn tree, its branches bearing tiny red fruit for the hungry birds to snatch. Around this solitary tree, a crop of giant scarlet toadstools grew, their bright caps spotted with pure white. The midmorning sun threw its beams across the clearing, warming the wings of the butterflies that rested amongst the bluebells scattered beneath the trees.

         Perched on top of one of the toadstools was a dainty fairy, wearing a dress that appeared to be made from bluebell petals. Her long wavy hair was blue as well. It hung loosely around her shoulders and draped down her back. Her wings arched out from her shoulders, for the most part still, but occasionally fluttering as she moved slightly. Whenever the wings opened, the shafts of sunlight reflected off the intricate patterns of veins visible through their delicate membrane. The reflected sunlight cast jewel-coloured shadows onto the nearby grass. Wherever those shadows fell, tiny shoots pushed through the soil, budding after minutes to create a host of flowers, bluebells, buttercups and daisies. Such was the fairy’s magic.

         Beside the fairy sat a long fat caterpillar, lime green with short, spiky fur along its length. The caterpillar wore a collar, intricately fashioned from silver metal to resemble a daisy chain. The fairy gently stroked the caterpillar’s head as she watched a slightly less graceful looking fairy march backwards and forwards between the toadstools. He was harder to spot as he moved 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, matching the rhythm of the grass blades. Perched on his head was a hat that looked suspiciously like an acorn cup. Every few moments he would pluck a dandelion clock, blow away its seeds, and then look reproachfully at the blue fairy. The blue fairy took no notice of his impatience, choosing to concentrate on the delicate melody of birdsong.

         “Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!”

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

         “Paul, will you turn that thing off?” the blue fairy shouted daintily in the direction of the hawthorn.

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

         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.

         "You know, dear, the coach will not get here any faster if you completely devastate the supply of clocks?” Mrs. Nuff was beginning to get impatient with her husband. Her wings folded and unfolded as she spoke to him, matching the rhythm of his pacing. She tossed the mane of blue hair, shaking her head in disbelief as the green fairy continued to check the time on yet another dandelion. As for her son…, turning her attention from her husband to the hawthorn in the centre of the clearing, she asked “Paul, can’t you turn that thing down just a little?”

         “No!” The answer came from 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 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 her, checking the dandelion clock yet again, thinking nervously about the work he had left to his apprentice. He could never tell, with that lad, if things would get done. He was more interested in dancing the night away in the Ring than earning an honest living was that one. They had that important order to get out by next week. It had been bad timing really that the work had arrived the same morning that Paul was due to set off on his trip. Now Mr. Nuff felt torn between his duty to keep the production of ambrosia on target for the winter festival, and his love for his only son. He didn’t really like the idea of his son cavorting across to new realms, but the Queen had insisted. His wife had agreed to her demands, despite all the tears she cried when Paul wasn’t around. Paul seemed excited at the prospect of the trip though, so maybe it would be for the best. He blew extra hard on the dandelion clock, hoping it would make the time magically be yesterday. Deep in his heart though, he knew that wouldn’t happen, the Queen had decreed which fairy was to travel to Earth, and no lesser magic could change that, not even if he used up all the magic wishes in Faeirea. Not for the first time he regretted his wife’s family ties and the obligation it placed them all under to the royal family. He held the bloom, with its solitary seed clinging unsteadily on to the head, towards his wife. Mrs. Nuff took it from him, noticing it said it was almost midday already.

         “They said 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 said to her husband, holding out a sheet of paper detailing the collection arrangements made for the exchange students. “Paul, will you put that thing away!” Mrs. Nuff glanced up at the hawthorn, her wingtips flaring outwards in a sudden flurry of irritation as the metallic notes sounded across the glade yet again.

         “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 flushed as a result of his pacing across the meadow. “Paul, make that thing be quiet please?” He shouted over his shoulder in the direction of the hawthorn tree and the beeping sound that had invaded the normally peaceful glade. He’d been listening to that sound for days now, ever since Paul’s delivery of supplies from Earth had arrived last week. He knew it had been a silly idea to let the youngster decide which things were essential items for the trip. But since when did anyone listen to him?

         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 barely heard them at all when they spoke.

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

         “Called a Gameboy,” Paul replied, glancing quickly over his shoulder without 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.

         “Tell me again,” Mr. Nuff asked his wife, shaking his head in exasperation, “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. Her wings furled gracefully behind her as she rested her tiny hands on her slender hips. The points of her ears were beginning to turn a pale shell pink Mr. Nuff noticed, a sure sign that she was getting emotional.

         “It’s to promote an understanding of the culture between Earth and the magical realms, including Faeirea. 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. Mr. Nuff noticed his wife’s wingtips were doing that thing they did when she was getting ready to start a rant. 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 appeared among the blades of grass.

         “Beep! Beep! Beep!”

         "Yes Dear,” He’d not been married all these years without learning when to keep quiet. Now was not the time to express his opinions on mixing with the Earth realm. Stories were still told to fairy children about how Earth wizards had set traps for unwary fairies hundreds of years ago. Earth people used to believe that if they captured a fairy, they could use its fairy dust, the trail of magic particles that fell from a fairy’s wings, to perform magic. Any fairy unlucky enough to be caught by one of the Earth people could look forward to a living out their lives in a glass jar, their magic dust being sprinkled wherever their captor wished. For long centuries, fairies had worked to convince Humans that fairies and Faeirea no longer existed, and now, suddenly the new queen wanted to open up diplomatic relations. Well, Oberon Nuff didn’t know why she couldn’t send her own sons out to explore the non-magical realms, and leave his son alone.

         “Beep! Beep! Beep!”

         The incessant noise of the Gameboy broke into Mr. Nuff’s thoughts and he looked appealingly 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 frightened Mrs. Nuff. 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, recognising 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 as she saw his outfit.

         “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 oddly 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 then?” 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. Silver hair was rare among the fairies; usually their hair reflected the colours of the flowers that bloomed around them in Faeirea. Paul was proud of his hair, and understood its significance. Mrs. Nuff was a cousin of the Fairy Queen, and silver hair was the mark of royal blood. 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 felt 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. Inside were what appeared to be twelve soap bubbles. The magic of the blue fairy kept them from popping, at least until Paul wanted to use them to contact Faeirea.

         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. Now the moment was here, he didn’t feel quiet so brave. Blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, Paul took a lingering look around the fairy glade. He’d never really appreciated how beautiful it was before. He quickly flew over to the toadstool where the family caterpillar waited, patting the creatures 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 brought out a small piece of cabbage leaf from his trouser pocket, which he gave to his loyal 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.



         “You for Earth?” The coachman asked, checking his passenger list, “Paul Nuff, Fairy?” The coachman raised his eyes from his clipboard to look Paul up and down. He took in the furled wings and the black clothes. He shook his head. He didn’t know what youngsters were coming to nowadays, what with all these new clothing styles.

         “That’s him.” Mrs. Nuff pulled a white square of cloth from her pouch, dabbing her fresh tears. “You be good, Paul. Write as soon as you get there.”

         “I will.” Paul found his throat getting tight as he prepared to board the coach to Earth, after all a whole year was a long time for a teenage fairy to be away from home, no matter how exciting the prospect had been until now.

         “That’s your seat there, between the dwarf and the ogre.” The coachman pointed into the coach, and then he threw Paul’s luggage up onto the rack.

         Paul climbed into the coach, with a quick glance at its other occupants.
         “Stand back please!” The guard held his hand upright, palm facing out as a signal to Mr. and Mrs. Nuff to move away from the departing coach. Mr. and Mrs. Nuff reluctantly obeyed the guard’s command. Once the older fairies were a safe distance from the coach, the guard climbed into the seat attached to one side of the sphere and started the incantations needed to start the magic flight.

         “Don’t you go getting into any mischief!” Mrs. Nuff’s final words dissolved into the air as the coach shimmered into nothingness.

         “So you’re a fairy then?”

         Paul looked sideways at the large green ogre beside him. Judging by the size of those hands, Paul decided sarcasm was not in order. “Yep,” he replied, nodding his head slightly.

         “Nice shirt, snap!” The ogre moved one of his massive arms to show Paul the ‘Limp Lettuce’ symbol on his shirt. Somehow it looked a lot more menacing on the ogre than it did on the fairy’s slight frame. Mind you, Paul still thought the slash he’d made for his wings added character to his. He nodded appreciatively at the ogre, which seemed the right, not to mention the safest thing to do.

         “My name is Wxntl, which means ‘He who crushes rocks beneath his feet while strolling in the sunrise’ in my language, but the Earthers said I’m going to be called Rock, Rock Bottom.” When Rock shrugged, the coach seemed to suddenly get a whole lot smaller.

         “Yeah? My name means ‘Fleet footed tiny one’, but that translates as Paul, so Paul Nuff it is for the next year.”

         “Don’t they have funny names?” Rock looked quizzically at Paul. Paul noticed that Rock appeared to have only one eyebrow, a long, dark strip of course hair that stretched across the green tinged skin of his forehead. Rocks skin was, Paul thought, almost the exact same colour of the algae that grew on his frog ponds, a kind of light green, with just a touch of blue. Looking at Rock made Paul feel more at home straight away. Paul grinned and nodded enthusiastically in answer to the ogre’s question, guessing that the thundering sound coming from Rock was an ogreish laugh. The ogre’s eyes were the gentlest brown that Paul had ever seen; they twinkled with a quiet good humour that made Paul like him almost immediately.

         "I’m Daisy, Daisy Chaine. Of course that’s not my real name either, but it’ll do.”
The dwarf seated on Paul’s right was obviously a girl. You could tell by the pink ribbons in the hair. The one on the beard was especially fetching. In every other respect Daisy was pure battle dwarf, with full body armour and muscles upon muscles. Although she appeared to be considerably shorter than Paul, she made up for the lack of size with her muscles. “Pleased to meet you.” Daisy accompanied this with a kind thump of friendship on Paul’s arm.

         “Owwwwwwww!” he cried, falling off the seat onto the coach floor. He scowled up at Daisy as he picked himself up of the floor. That meeting certainly made an impression. He could see the dints in the floor where he’d landed. Daisy held out her hand to Paul to help him up.

         “Sorry about that, I forget that not all the folk of the other realms are as powerful as we dwarves” she grinned at Paul. Paul ignored her offered hand and struggled back onto his seat. Rock smiled at Daisy, he knew what she meant, and his father had warned him repeatedly before he left to be careful around the puny earth people. He knew that before links between Earth and the other realms were severed all those centuries before, Earthers had feared his kind as monsters, mostly because of misunderstandings resulting from mighty strength of the ogres.

         “Anyone want a cake?” Rock said, pulling a large tin box from his bag.

         “Please!” Daisy said, pulling a greyish bun from the tin and biting into it gleefully. “Mummmm, rock cakes, my favourites” she mumbled through a mouthful.

         Paul took a bun from the tin and bit into it. “Owww!” he yelped as he hit his teeth onto stone, “These are really rock?” he asked the ogre.

         “Of course” replied Rock, puzzled. “What else would they be?”

         Paul was glad his mum had packed him some special fairy cakes for the journey, which he found in his rucksack. These were pretty little cakes, with pastel covered icing, flavoured with just a hint of the magical ambrosia produced in his fathers own workshop. Remembering the ogre’s generosity, and wanting to make some friends in the strange place he was going to, Paul offered his cakes to his travelling companions. Both took one and tasted them, timidly at first, then with delight, as they tasted the ambrosia. Paul smiled to himself, no one made the magical ambrosia quite like his dad, and no one made fairy cakes quite like his mum.

         Looking at his companions closely as they ate, Paul thought he’d better be friends with these two, either that or prepare for an untimely death. “Are you both on the exchange scheme?” he asked, “at Lesser Halton?”

         Rock nodded, Daisy however shook her head, causing the beribboned plaits to swing in an arch around her head. Paul noticed the glint of metal; she had small razors bound into the hair, which could cause a very nasty accident if she shook her head too vigorously. Nervously he backed as far away from her as he could in the confined space.

         “Sorry!” She said, stilling her head, allowing her plaits to end their deadly arc. She touched the razor in one of her plaits as she spoke to Paul, “I forget about those sometimes, my dad’s only just started letting me wear them.” A slight pink tinged the dwarf’s cheeks as she studiously looked at her feet, avoiding Paul’s curious look.

         “That’s ok,” Paul replied, making a mental note not to stand too close when he asked her anything.

         “I’m not really on the exchange, but I’m going to Lesser Halton school." Daisy continued, "I’m going to be with my father. He’s going to be the mystical-chemistry teacher at Lesser Halton School, Iron Chaine. You’ll be in his classes.”



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