Often times, when he would have nothing else to do, Murfy would sit upon the highest tree he could find at the moment, or at the edge of a cliff, or simply find a clear meadow with a good view and gaze into the direction of some of the highest of the purple, literally living mountain peaks that had began its unusual life and growth some time ago, his perpetual grin spreading a little wider at the thought of its contents.
Being a close friend and a right hand to the creator of the world and all it encompassed had its advantages, though Murfy, as a part of the mentioned world, never realized this – being nearly omniscient was a second nature to him, and he never once thought of it as something special, something anyone else would desire to posses, something that made him different. It was nothing more than a trait of his character, just as the magic of teensies were theirs.
Even so, he didn't hesitate to use his unique ability to explore the entirety of the everlasting, ever-changing, ever-growing wonderland he lived in. It is not by mere coincidence that he became known as the living encyclopedia in the Glade of Dreams. His eternal exploration and desire to know have brought abundance of various bits of knowledge and wisdom to him over the many years.
So when he one day decided to explore the growing mountain chain of snow in the distant East, he was surprised by the fact his powers couldn't bring him there in the blink of an eye. It was as if some strange, invisible and unfelt magical force simply refused to be invaded, and the mountains only seemed to grow higher as days passed, as if they prided themselves in the fact they were en exception to the powerful rule.
Why this was, nobody could explain, though his dear creator did speculate it had to do with the recent attack of the Magician, guessing the leftover magic of his evil deeds must have messed with the natural magical forces of the mountain – then again, it could've been the fact the mounting seemed to have been more of a mysterious specimen rather than an area. The true answer to this wasn't about to be found any time soon though, and for the time being, the mountain would remain an unexplored, mysterious terrain to Murfy.
Because, while he did on numerous occasions accompany the Hero of the Glade on his travels, he was also at any time safe from any danger, able to blink himself away and back to the safety of his home. He was no born, natural fighter – or a trained one, for that matter. To travel around, alone or not, without the only thing he could possibly fight with – or escape with - was dangerous and reckless, and while not vain or proud, he knew he was too valuable of an ally to be destroyed by his curiosity.
So Murfy remained in the safety of the flowery meadows and shaded trees, observing the mountain chains from afar, for a while wondering what was it that lived, bloomed and prospered in its icy peaks until he decided to take a closer, curious glance through his binoculars… and fell in love with the creations of the Bubble Dreamer, all over again.
It was by complete accident that the Hero of the Glade would appear one day as Murfy perched upon an edge of a cliff and look questionably in the direction of the mountains, wondering what Murfy's longing gaze was searching for in them, a pair of binoculars set firmly onto his eyes.
Murfy in reply passed him the said item and helped him see what he saw. When Rayman finally noticed the object of Murfy's attention, he let out a curious hum. One didn't need to look at the fairy fly for too long to realize he found himself quite infatuated with a specimen of flora growing on the very top of the dangerous, chilly peaks – which, almost ironically, were piercing the clouds and emerging right into the eternally sunny day in the sky. The small patch of ground didn't have much of anything special, if the unusual colours of the plants were excluded – a simple, still young sapling of a blue-leaved tree, some grayish-purple shrubs and grass as white as the snow bellow – but a solitary flower that grew upon it was not familiar to any other eye in the glade, except perhaps to that of the Bubble Dreamer himself. It was gorgeous, the color of its petals shifting and blending from purple to blue and almost glistening underneath the sun, leaves shining like silver and standing up proudly despite the fragile, almost thread-like white stem.
Being as knowledgeable as he was, Murfy knew the flower would grow and die alone up in the mountain peak, alone with no one and nothing but the shade of the tree and the warmth of the sun to enjoy, alone on its tiny home, unable to spread its beauty.
The thought was in some way beautiful, but it was undeniably sad. He didn't want the flower to be gone, and he didn't want it not to leave any legacy behind, the way the entire flora ever dreamed up did. But, in the end, he guessed, it was simply the way it had to be - the way the Bubble Dreamer imagined it.
So he shrugged a bit sadly at Rayman's questioning look and turned his gaze back to the mountain once more before distancing himself from the sight, deciding not to gaze upon the beautiful flower again.
A week had passed by since and while for the most part forgetting about the flower, the fairy fly caught himself more than once gazing at the heightening peaks again. Deciding to give in to the temptation one more time, he pulled out his binoculars and gave the mountain peaks one more look.
… Something was different.
He didn't realize right away he was, indeed, looking at the correct peak, and spend a saddening long amount of time trying to locate the spot he was watching so many times before, until he finally realized, and admitted to himself, that the flower was truly nowhere to be seen – disappeared from its spot like it was never there. The eternal smile faltered a bit.
He was gazing and gazing for the longest time, wondering what became of the unfortunate flower, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
The Hero of the Glade greeted him, as per his custom, with a bow. Murfy flew up and twirled in place, as was his.
He had expected the Hero would need some sort of assistance and remained rightfully confused when Rayman didn't ask for it, instead choosing to look distinctly uncomfortable. In fact, he was confused he hadn't been called for the way he usually was, so he kept gazing at Rayman expectantly, wondering if something bad was going on.
With an embarrassed grin and slightly confused face, the Hero then pulled the mountain flower from behind his back and offered it to the fairy fly with the most accidentally sweet smile.
Nearly losing control of his wings out of sheer excitement, Murfy backed away for a moment, his disbelieving eyes exchanging glances between the flower and eyes of the Hero before finally stopping on the fragile looking plant, and the realization hit in. With a helpless blush to his face and a smirk he, for the first time ever, desperately tried to hide (unsuccessfully, too), he buzzed over closer and took the flower into his own hands.
It was light and thin and felt as if it would fall apart right away, but its petals in the shades of blue and purple felt smoother than silk. It smelled fresh and unusual, unlike the sweet scent of flora that grew here on the ground.
It was a gift like no other.
The fairy fly gave Rayman one affectionate gaze before pulling him into a short, probably overly tight hug, and buzzed away quickly in search of the acceptable soil for the delicate flower, leaving the Hero alone but proud and pleased with his one week mission.