This story came from a promise I made my friend to write her a story that continued where The Great Fairy Rescue left off.
I actually had a REALLY hard time coming up with a good solid plot, and I only thought of this after flipping through At the Dawn of Pixie Hollow and spotted the line in Lyria's profile that stated her biggest wish was to travel to the mainland and see a clumsy play. I expect that as soon as this story gets rolling it'll get better, it always hard for me to start a first chapter of anything XP
Disclaimer: The characters Gypsy, Splish and Splash, Apollo, Satin, and Flick belong to me, all the others are copyright of Disney.
The warm summer sunshine felt different here on the mainland, oh but that's just silly. This sunshine was the same sunshine I felt back on the mainland was it not? Still I had to admit that silly or not the sun felt different. Everything seemed different here. The way the air smelled, the colors of the plant and animal life, the sounds of the bubbling brook and tweeting birds, everything was different.
"Really, is that silly? I mean were on the mainland, for all I know everything is different here on the mainland." I mumbled to no one in particular. My traveling companion, a white dove I'd stolen from the stables where the animal talents kept them, whose name was Tweet or Twit or whatnot, I didn't speak very good bird, just cooed placidly.
I'd employed him to carry my things needed to keep me entertained this summer. My lyre on which I was as, if not more, talented then the music talents themselves. It was an arrival day gift from Spinner and almost always it was attached to an across the shoulder bag I owned. When ever the spirit moved me to do so I would take it out and play a melody right there on the spot, some actual melodies to songs, others some I made up on the spot and while doing this more often then not, I told stories.
The second item in the basket was my giant storybook. Also an arrival day gift, this was my most prized possession. As a storyteller I had been given the right and duty of hearing and keeping every story ever heard or told in Pixie Hollow, the storytellers were the official historians of Pixie Hollow. Though my memory was sharper then any other talent of fairy, I still felt a need to record down every story I'd ever heard in my life onto this storybook. Otherwise I feared the stories might clutter up in my head and I might mix parts up and start creating legends instead of reciting lore. For this reason every time I heard an interesting story or witnessed something historic I rushed to my storybook and wrote it down. And this was sure to be a historic summer, after all it was the first time storytellers had ever set foot on the mainland, a privilege denied to them since the dawn of time. Not that I've much cared to visit here to see the changing of the seasons. I could care less about what nature talents did. No I was here to fulfill a lifelong mission.
The third and final specimen of value in that basket was a stowaway. My dear friend Gypsy, who like me, was a story teller and a mighty fine one too. We'd been friends since my arrival to many years ago to count.
Ever since I could remember Gypsy was a fascinating creature to me for two reasons. Her undying need to please everyone around her and qualm every quarrel in Pixie Hollow, and her rare condition, Gypsy was deaf. She hadn't always been deaf, no for quite sometime Gypsy had been just like any other fairy in Pixie Hollow. She was Hollow renowned for her romance tales and her soft haunting voice that soared over the trees and set a spell on every fairy within hearing distance. Before my arrival, Gypsy had been Pixie Hollow's most talented story-teller.
Then a sickness struck her, and it stole her hearing from her. Even after her recovery she never regained the ability to hear. Many fairies shook there heads in pity about her, what seemed bleak, future. How could a deaf fairy simply operate in day to day life without hearing, much less tell stories? They all swore Gypsy's story telling days were done. She proved them wrong though. Despite not being able to hear her own voice, she could still tell stories, and even sing, her talent was still there. When speaking to fairies in everyday conversations her words were slurred, but in storytelling it was as perfect as ever.
However there was still the fact that she couldn't hear. She couldn't hear what others were telling her, and this was both a nuisance and a danger to her. So she and her twin brother Orion developed a form of speaking that relied on there hands and facial expressions to communicate instead of there voice and mouth. This "silent language" was a beautiful thing to watch. It seemed to me almost a dance that the hands preformed and it all came together to tell a wonderful story. All storytellers became fluent in this language as to communicate with Gypsy, as did the Dust Keeper Terence, and the Ministers of Spring and Winter, but most other fairies were ignorant of the language and because of this a translator was always needed at Gypsy's side.
I flew cautiously to the basket and pulled up the flap, peeking inside. Just as I predicted Gypsy was sound asleep, curled into a tiny ball around my lyre. Chuckling I tapped her shoulder a few times to wake her up. After a few moments the story teller's reddish brown eyes fluttered open and she turned her head to look up at me groggily. I flashed her a sunny smile and signed quickly come on Gypsy were here.
She stared at me for a moment as if she didn't comprehend what I meant but then she nodded, sat up stretching and yawned.
After I helped her up and out of the basket and safely on the ground I quickly collected my lyre and storybook and handed them down to her. Alright that's everything, you got our supply of Pixie Dust?
Gypsy nodded her head and dug in her pockets pulling out two small bags of Pixie Dust, just enough to get us back to Pixie Hollow when summer ended. We didn't need it the other days, Story tellers are used to walking and are one of the few talents that prefer to that instead of flying. Besides if we snitched any more then this Fairy Gary would notice, no doubt.
Good, well that's it then. I scrambled off the bird and with a pretty gesture of my gratitude for carrying my stuff all this way for me I spanked him lightly on the tail and he took off, back to the stables where he was trained to go. I watched him flying off into the bright blue sky and I couldn't help but wonder to myself how strange, his life is so simple, all he knows is fly here, fly back. How empty and boring to live with such tight restrictions on how to live and where to go. I frowned but then again aren't story tellers supposed to live the same way? I sighed and shook my head; this was no time for deep philosophical ponderings. I had a mission to complete, and I only had three measly months to complete it, and more then that, Gypsy was beginning to look at me funny.
Where are we? She asked me when she was sure I was watching her and not the bird. I shrugged nonchalantly and replied how should I know? I've never been here before. We must be near a Fairy Camp since that's where the dove was heading when I signaled for him to land, but I don't know how close and in what direction.
Gypsy scratched idly at her bear ankle, making the gold medals on her belt chain tied around her waist on a slant, and the wood carved charms of the symbols of each of her friends' jingle and clank together. Gypsy has an obsession with collecting interesting jewelry such as this kind of stuff. Well that certainly doesn't help much. She signed after finishing her itch we can't go to a Fairy Camp, we'd get sent back in the blink of an eye.
I know I signed back Give me a minute to think.
Gypsy nodded her consent and wandered over to my storybook, obviously with the intent of reading it. I left her to her devices, to busy taking in my surroundings to care much about what she was doing. Tall, sturdy, and bright green blades of grass surround us, keeping us safe from any prying eyes, and towered above us keeping us from being able to see anything past it. The sun was still fairly low in the sky, meaning it was still early morning, and already I was getting a little warm. I was thankful I had decided on a top with only one thin strap over my right shoulder and mid thigh length skirt made of soft purple violet petals that faded into white daisy petals in layers and layers so that they flounce every time I moved, this made it easy for Gypsy to spot me if we ever got separated or I was trying to get her attention. Wearing this skirt also proved to be cooler then my other longer skirts which I gathered was a good thing since from what I'd heard, summers could be scorchers.
From the air I had been able to see that this place was a field. A wide expanse of grass and flowers with only two trees as far as I could see and a little clumsy house and dirt path rolling away from it toward the far end of it. It had seemed the perfect place for us to land at the time, but the more I thought of it the more I worried. If a hawk were to spot us, we'd be very easy prey. Gypsy especially because she wouldn't be able to hear the beat of the hawks wings.
"What are you singing?" Gypsy's light, slurred voice startled me out of my thoughts and I turned to her in surprise. I had a horrible habit of singing when I was concentrating really hard on something, though I never realized I was doing it unless someone pointed it out, like Gypsy had done.
I wondered how she knew I had been singing, but remembered that it was quite easy to tell when someone had broken into a musical voice; it was all in the way there mouths moved. In singing one tended to open there mouth wider and there movements were more sharp and clear and the mouth morphing was more pronounced then when speaking. Holding my hands palms up, I shrugged lamely, informing her I didn't know what I had just been singing.
My friend just laughed understandingly. She knew better then anyone my little quirk because she often did the same thing. Her laughter sounded like the pitter patter of rain on the leaves and flower petals and it always loud and boisterous and caused my own harp sounding laughter to join her. Together our laughter rose high above the grass protecting us and was taken by the wind far across the fields, unbeknownst to us.
"Did you hear that?" Fawn asked Rosetta as they shared a nut cap of red berry paint, one used it for painting a flower the other for painting butterflies wings.
"Hear what sapling?" Rosetta asked barely glancing up from her flower.
"I don't know exactly" Fawn replied. "It sounded like…..a harp….laughing?" she blushed at how ridiculous that sounded.
"Sugarcane I think you've been working to hard." Rosetta laughed playfully. "Or you've been spending too much time with Tink and that fanciful head of hers."
"Yeah you're probably right." Fawn admitted, dipping her brush into the red paint. "Still it just sounded like something I've heard before I swear."
"It's probably just you memory playing tricks on you sweetie." Rosetta reassured her friend putting her hand on Fawn's shoulder affectionately
"Yeah" Fawn nodded. "Yeah you're right."
"Aren't I always?" Rosetta said giving Fawn her signature charming smile. Fawn rolled her eyes and turned back to her butterfly wing. She narrowed her eyes and slowly made her arm inch toward the unfinished wing. She just had this last bit and she'd be finished. Another perfect butterfly finished. Just one more-
A soaring melody scared Fawn and she leapt back the brush fell from her hand and onto the wing of the waiting butterfly, streaking red across his wing where it shouldn't have been. Rosetta had the same issue with her flower.
"What in Neverland's name" Rosetta grumbled.
The melody stopped.
"Still think it's just my memory Ro?" Fawn teased.
"No I gather it's not." Rosetta replied putting her hands on her hips.
"I wonder who….or what that is" Fawn bent over and picked up her fallen brush off the ground, upset that the noise had scared her butterfly away.
"Oh I think I know" Rosetta huffed "That voice is very familiar." She motioned for Fawn to fallow her and took off in the direction the melody had come from. Fawn looked at the small cap of almost gone red paint, her dirty brush in her hands, and Rosetta's brush still on the ground. With a small sigh of defeat Fawn dropped the brush back on the ground and fallowed after her friend.
"What was that?" Tinker Bell asked her friends, Terence and Vidia. "It sounded like singing"
"That's because it is singing, smart one." Vidia sneered.
"Who would be singing?" Tink corrected, shooting a glare at Vidia. The tinker and fast flyer were no doubt friends, but that didn't mean the two didn't fight bitterly every two seconds, and gave Terence a splitting headache.
"Anybody could be singing" Vidia's voice was kinder this time "Fairies have been known to break out into song at any moment."
"The real question" Terence added "Is who could sing beautifully."
"True" Vidia acknowledged. "Not any of the fairies I know that are here could sing so well."
"That's because the only fairies that can sing that well are storytellers." Was Terence's reply.
"But wait" Tink fretted "Storytellers don't come to Mainland."
"Correction" Terence put his finger over her mouth. "Storytellers are not supposed to go to the mainland. There wings are perfectly able to get themselves over here if they could find a way to do it without having Queen Clarion knowing about it."
"Oh but that's impossible" sniffed Tink "Fairies could never get away with something without Queen Clarion finding out about it."
Vidia and Terence exchanged looks and smiles.
"Not true" Vidia sighed. "It's quite possible to get away with it if you're a storyteller named Lyria."
"Lyria" Tink scratched her head "Whose Lyria?"
"Don't be dense Tink" Vidia flicked her friend's forehead "You know Lyria, she's that storyteller that Fairy Mary is absolutely crazy about. The one that always tells stories about fairy lore"
"Oh!" Tink snapped her fingers together "You mean the one who told the stories about the mirror?"
"That's the one" Terence assured.
"What would she be doing here?"
"Who knows?" Vidia shrugged "It's Lyria."
"Well let's go find out!" Tink hopped from on foot to the other.
"I agree" Terence smirked "Let's go see what our good friend Lyria is doing here on the mainland…..against the rules."
I hadn't meant to sing, not at all. I couldn't help that my laughter, after I tried to suppress it for a moment had bubbled up and came out, soaring into a wordless melody.
Gypsy had sat there and stared at me in horror, she may not have heard my singing, but she must have seen my face and knew. When I got a burst of self control I covered my mouth with my hands and the singing, feeling the stubborn wall of my hand, preventing it from flying out it sputtered out and died. When I knew there was nothing more inside of me trying to get out, I let my hand drop back to my side.
Lyria what did you do? Gypsy demanded What if someone heard us?
I didn't mean too! I signed back how was I supposed to know I'd do that? I'm a story teller Gypsy not a future seer.
That made Gypsy smile a little, but only a little. Clearly she was worried about what had just passed. I tried to calm her down, as well as myself. Don't worry Gypsy, no one heard me, there's nobody within two hundred wing flaps of us.
Gypsy didn't look convinced, but at least she wasn't as edgy as she had been. Her shoulders relaxed and her body once again became limp. My own frantic fear was diminishing and my own beating heart was slowing down. I walked over to Gypsy and kneeled down to see what the story-teller had been reading. Ah, that's one of my favorites. I explained it's about a fairy who found the Sprite of Wishes and Desires, and because so, he said he'd grant her any wish she wanted. I pointed at the quickly doodled illustration of a pretty little fairy with dark curls and gentle eyes, staring in awe at the majestic elfish looking creature beside her, offering her his hand with a kind smile.
"What did she wish for?" Gypsy asked.
She wished for a possum fern to grow in her garden.
A wasted wish Gypsy sniffed. I however shook my head.
I have to disagree, it may seem trivial to me or you, but that was her wish to make, and having a possum fern in her garden was her greatest want.
Like coming here to see a clumsy play is your greatest want
Yeah, like that. I smiled at my friend. That was the truth, my greatest wish always had been to fly over here and witness how those humans I read so much about, put on a play.
I'd always been bound to Pixie Hollow by two things, the rules that stated only Tinkers, Nature talents and on occasion dust keepers, were allowed to go to the mainland, and my natural fear of humans. Though I have no clue why, the thought of ever coming close to one of the strange tall creatures gave me shivers.
This year however, after all the fairies that were allowed to go to mainland left for Fairy Camp, to bring summer. I had gotten bored and this is a very hazardous thing indeed. For when I get bored, and those little gears and cogs in my insanely intelligent brain get cranking, mischief is bound to fallow. This time it came in the form of a decision that fear or no fear, I was going to the mainland to see a clumsy play! I told Gypsy of my plan and she had eagerly asked to accompany me, and who was I to deny her passage?
The two of us stared at the book in silence, each wrapped up in our own thoughts. So wrapped up in fact that we didn't even notice them coming till the deep familiar voice of Terence floated into my ear.
"Well, Well, Well, if it isn't Lyria and Gypsy, funny seeing you here."