With the success I found in "Home," my story about Azelf the wanderer and Storm the Larvesta, I decided to make a list of songs that had good titles for stories and base them off of those songs. I have quite a few stories lined up, now.
Here, I find a story of a Froslass and a Pidgey. My inspiration is the song "Beyond Her Garden," remixed by Aviators. I want this story to be able to stand with the likes of "Living," "Through Time and Space," and "Home," and so I hope it will turn out well. If it does not, I will polish it until it gleams.
Here it goes!
BEYOND HER GARDEN
Pudge was beginning to wish that he had never taken Slip's dare. The small Pidgey looked around at the monstrous sculptures of other Pokemon. Alakazam, Lucario, Garbodor, so many others, all having fallen prey to the horrid witch of the Ice Gardens. He really wished he had not taken Slip's dare.
"Come on, Pudge," Slip hissed. It was not a menacing hiss. Slip just hissed. He was an Ekans, after all.
"I don't know, man," Pudge murmured, looking over at the Ice Gardens. The gates loomed large in the summer heat. It was said that the witch of the Ice Gardens had some horrific power over ice and was able to keep the summer heat away. Pudge certainly felt cold.
Slip laughed. "Don't be a scaredy-Meowth, Pudge. I did it when I was your age."
"I'm older than you, Slip," Pudge pointed out. Slip waved away the comment with his tail.
"Everyone is expecting you to do it, Pudge. You just can't see it."
"You know what, Slip, I think you're the scaredy-Meowth. I have never seen you get any closer to the Ice Gardens, and I've been with you a lot."
"Come on, Pudge! Hurry up!"
Pudge grimaced, a spectacular sight as he had a beak. Just how Slip had persuaded him to come in here was still foggy. One thing Pudge knew, though, was that he was going to have a long talk with Slip after he got out. If I get out…
A cloud passed over the sun, and the Gardens were thrown into premature twilight. The shadows made the sculptures even more menacing. A fog began to roll through the Ice Gardens. Pudge shivered, fluffing up his feathers against a sudden chill.
Eyes darting back and forth, often looking over his shoulder, Pudge didn't notice the ice sculpture that began looming up out of the fog and shadows. He collided with the sculpture, looked up, and failed to swallow a squawk of terror. An amazingly life-like Aegislash stood, poised to slash with the razor edge of its shield.
Pudge backed up slowly, eyes transfixed on the Aegislash. His back touched ice, and he yelped and spun around. His squawk was even louder and shriller. A sculpture of a Lucario, standing on a single paw and getting ready to let loose a flurry of punches, seemed to stare at Pudge.
Beak clattering, Pudge stood frozen in spot. He thought he could hear voices from the sculptures.
"What are you doing here, little birdy?" the Lucario asked. Pudge saw the eyes of the Lucario narrow.
"Leave now… or you will become like us. Immobile, frozen as the witch sees fit," the Aegislash chimed in.
"Leave, little bird. Fly away to your mommy and daddy. Leave this accursed place," an icy Sylveon commanded.
"GO!" a large Raticate bellowed.
Pudge leaped into the air, wings fluttering in useless patterns. His vocal chords were glued shut from the terror.
"Do you like my sculptures, little bird?" a silky voice asked. Pudge had fallen to the ground, but he jumped again into the air at the sound coming from a Machoke.
"Um… ah… That is… They are yours?" Pudge asked, finally coughing out the words. "I did not… that is… you are a Machoke."
"What? Oh!" the silky voice laughed, and out from behind the Machoke a Froslass appeared. She descended onto the Machoke's left shoulder. "As you can see, little bird," the Froslass continued, "I am no Machoke. I am, however, impressed with your grasp of Victorian speech. Have you learned from Master Kricketune?"
Pudge cocked his head. "I… I don't know what you mean," Pudge said. He had, unknowingly, calmed at the sight of such a beautiful Pokemon.
The Froslass laughed. "Ahaha! I see!" She bent down to look Pudge in the eye. Pudge didn't turn away. Something told him that she was, if not harmless, then a more benevolent creature than he had thought.
"What do you see?"
The Froslass smiled. "Terror is a wonderful thing, is it not? You, when terrified, seem to speak in Victorian accents. I myself begin to bob up and down in my floating. Master Kricketune would be able to polish your talent for Victorian accents, little bird."
Pudge ruffled his feathers. "I am not a little bird," he said crossly. "My name is Pudge."
"Ah! Forgive me for my oversight, Master Pudge." The Froslass lifted up off of the Machoke's shoulder. "Had I known your name, I would have used that."
The ruffled feathers began to lie flat on Pudge's body. "I… I suppose so. I suppose I can forgive you, I mean," he hurriedly clarified. "But… who is Master Kricketune?"
"Ahhhh…" the Froslass sighed, a look of wonder and longing on her voice. "He is a maestro of the highest caliber, having composed such works as The Winter Wind, Vulataris, and Dream of Love. I have his music in my home. Please tell me, has he composed anything recently? When I retreated into this home, he had retired from composition. Master Kricketune also can speak impeccable Victorian era language." The Froslass shook herself slightly. She smiled at Pudge and beckoned to him.
Curiosity overcame Pudge's natural jitters and he followed the Froslass deeper into the Gardens. "Ah, forgive me for this oversight as well," the Froslass said over her shoulder. "I should have introduced myself. I am Mistress Octavia. It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Pudge."
Mistress Octavia stopped at a dais that held the largest ice sculpture Pudge had seen so far. "This, my young friend," Mistress Octavia said, gesturing to the sculpture, "is Master Kricketune."
Pudge looked at the sculpture with interest. The Kricketune was majestic, with a glint of genius in his eye and a long, slightly swirled mustache. Pudge nodded in appreciation, but was suddenly reminded of the tales of the witch. He turned on Mistress Octavia, who was staring at the Kricketune with obvious adoration. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mistress Octavia spoke first.
"Is this not a marvelous likeness? Master Kricketune was more than willing to stand in this position for three hours. I work remarkably fast, I must say. I am sorry if I seem to brag, but that Machoke took only an hour and a half. But Master Kricketune's sculpture took longer. I wished to capture every facet of his character."
The words caught in Pudge's throat. With some difficulty he swallowed them. "Then," he asked, choosing new words, "these are just sculptures? They are not real Pokemon who tried to come and defeat you?"
Mistress Octavia started out of her trance. "Where did you hear that, Master Pudge?" There was steel in her voice.
Pudge shrank back, but made himself speak. "Those are the stories told outside of the Gardens… Master Kricketune died three years ago, at the age of ninety four."
"What?" Mistress Octavia's voice was little more than a breath. "Master Kricketune is… dead? Ninety four? Are you sure?"
Pudge straightened himself. "I am."
Mistress Octavia turned to look at Pudge. He saw a glimmer in her eyes, and he could tell it wasn't the same glimmer than Slip got when he had a trick to play.
"I'm sorry…" Pudge said, trailing off.
Mistress Octavia smiled faintly, but tears began to slide down her face. "It is not your fault, Master Pudge," the Froslass said, voice quivering. "It was sixty years ago that I entered this home. I have lost track of time, I suppose… The time has seemed so short here. I thought that only five or six years had passed…" Mistress Octavia pursed her mouth, and then, without warning, burst out sobbing.
As a male, Pudge was not very comfortable with crying and other 'female' emotions. His older sister often had bouts of violent crying, and it unnerved him. He was not anxious to become 'attracted' to females. But Mistress Octavia was different. At least, that's what Pudge thought. He knew his friends, Slip and Ham, would disagree, and he knew his parents would probably ground him, but Mistress Octavia was different and she needed his help.
Pudge hopped over to where Mistress Octavia had slumped to the ground. Her face was buried in her hands. Paws? Hands? Pudge thought to himself. Pands? None of those sound right. Whatever.
He tapped on Mistress Octavia's arm with his wing. She was very cold, and Pudge had to remind himself that she was, after all, living in the Ice Gardens and sculpted things out of Ice. She looked up at him, tears dripping from her eyes.
Pudge smiled at her, and she smiled faintly through the tears. "Mistress Octavia, please don't cry," Pudge said. He wiped the tears away, but it was fruitless for many more replaced the few he dried. "Master Kricketune did compose one more piece before he died." Pudge wasn't sure why he was telling Mistress Octavia this.
Mistress Octavia hiccupped slightly. "He did?"
Pudge nodded emphatically. "I even memorized it," he said proudly. "May I sing it for you?"
The Froslass nodded slowly. "He never wrote music that had words…" Mistress Octavia murmured. "Go ahead, Master Pudge."
Clearing his throat, Pudge trilled a couple of notes. He did not like singing, but his parents had insisted on teaching him to 'cultivate his golden throat.' That was what they said, anyway.
Once, so very long ago,
A maiden with locks of gold,
Stole my heart away,
And locked it up in snow.
Once, so very long ago,
A maiden with skin so cold,
Took my eyes away,
And locked them in the snow.
Once, so very long ago,
A maiden with voice so bold,
Whisked my mind away,
And locked it in the snow.
Yes, so very long ago,
I met a maiden that I longed to hold,
I wished that I could sweep her away,
And lock her in my heart.
I tried so very long ago,
To make that maiden know,
That she had taken away my heart
And locked it in her snow.
But, so very long ago
We never could find the goal,
And so we took our hearts,
Locking them away within our own selves.
Now, not so long ago,
I wish I had tried even harder,
To make that maiden with locks of gold,
To get that maiden with skin so cold,
To love that maiden with voice so bold,
To win that maiden that I longed to hold,
For she is away, and I've lost my way,
And my heart is still buried in snow.
Pudge let the last notes trail off. He hadn't stretched his voice like that for a very long time, but it had felt wonderful. Master Kricketune's composition had never made much sense to him, but as Pudge had sung the song, he could see what Master Kricketune had seen.
Mistress Octavia was sitting on the steps of the dais. Her eyes were dry and locked on some point in space that Pudge couldn't identify. She was moving her mouth, but no words came out. Pudge had never been good at reading lips, but something told him that Mistress Octavia was repeating the words of Master Kricketune's song.
Deciding that it would be a good idea to let Mistress Octavia be alone for a bit, Pudge turned away from her and the sculpture of Master Kricketune and began studying a sculpture of a Mega Gallade. He wondered how Mistress Octavia had captured the movement of the Gallade's cloak so perfectly.
"Pudge…" He turned to find Mistress Octavia floating shakily in the air. She came over to him and placed a cold hand on his right wing. "Thank you. Does that piece have a name?"
Pudge screwed his eyes shut. "I believe so. Let me think… Puella Sevatiri. Yes, that's it. Puella Sevatiri." Pudge opened his eyes.
Mistress Octavia was smiling broadly, even as streams of tears fell. "Thank you, Master Pudge." She leaned and placed a small kiss on his head. It was not the kind of kiss that his parents gave each other, or even what his sister gave her boyfriend. It was more like the kind of kiss he had once been given by his Gramma Downy.
Pudge looked at Mistress Octavia and cocked his head. "What was that for?" he asked.
Mistress Octavia laughed lightly. "You will understand one day, Master Pudge. Now, would you like to see where I live? I think you will find it quite intriguing."
Shifting slightly against the cold, Pudge thought for a moment, then grinned. "I would love to, Mistress Octavia."
Mistress Octavia laughed again and took Pudge's wing. "Come along, then," she said, leading him deeper into the Gardens. "And you may call me Octavia."
"Well, then you may call me Pudge," Pudge said. They both laughed and continued walking into the Gardens.
Mistress Octavia's home was grand, to say the least. Built out of ice and snow, it was more of a castle than a house, but it was her home. Pudge loved it right away.
Mistress Octavia, it turned out, was very good at making hot chocolate. Her recipe required a full two hours, so Pudge took the opportunity to explore the castle. Mistress Octavia put on a composition by Master Kricketune. She sang quietly along with the music as Pudge crawled through the castle's nooks and crannies.
By the time the hot chocolate was ready, Pudge was shivering, but a fire burned in his chest. He had found Mistress Octavia's storage room and spent an hour looking at the various memories she kept in there. He looked at pictures of Mistress Octavia with Master Kricketune, the former holding a violin and the latter holding a cello. There were logbooks cataloging her travels with Master Kricketune, including tours to a place called Treasure Town. Pudge even found the violin that Mistress Octavia had been holding in most of the pictures. He took the violin, a couple of pictures, and one of the logbooks down to the kitchen.
"What are these?" he asked, placing the violin, pictures, and logbook on a table.
Mistress Octavia turned and looked at the table. Her eyes grew wet again. "These are memories, Pudge," she said softly, picking up the violin and examining it. "Master Kricketune built this violin for me, Pudge. I remember when he gave it to me. He pulled it out of a velvet case and tuned it, then began to play. The most magnificent sound came from the strings of this violin, Pudge. He was a master musician and could make any instrument. He could play anything, coax the most reluctant Wurmple to open its mouth and sing like a lark." Mistress Octavia chuckled. "He could not, however, do math. He could not read anything besides music. He could not battle. He could not even sing, no matter how long or how often he practiced." Mistress Octavia smiled at the memories.
"What did he sound like when he sang?" Pudge asked eagerly. The idea of such a musician being unable to sing intrigued him.
"I dare not say. But let it suffice to say that an exploding Pineco sounded better than Master Kricketune did."
Pudge giggled as Mistress Octavia set down the violin. She picked up the pictures and gazed at them.
"These, Pudge, were all from the same tour," Mistress Octavia explained. "This one was in Cambrilla, a large town off of the Eastern Sea. We had three shows there, and the same fellow showed up to each one. He was the only one to show up, too." Mistress Octavia tapped on a Trevenant in the background. "This was the fellow. We left very quickly after the third show. That was the first and the last time we toured in Cambrilla."
Putting down the Cambrilla picture, Mistress Octavia shifted the pictures and showed Pudge the second one. "Now, this one was taken in Shaymin Village. This bouquet of flowers I'm holding is actually a Shaymin. See the eyes?" Mistress Octavia asked, pointing to two black dots.
Pudge squinted. "I… think so," he said, tilting his head to see them better.
"This Shaymin was one of the only Shaymin who really loved the shows. The others liked the shows, but it didn't affect them. This one, though, was so inspired that he took up the triangle. When I last toured through Shaymin Village, he had begun learning the glockenspiel, much to the dismay of his fellows."
Mistress Octavia set down the second picture and held out the final one. "Now, this one is from Treasure Town. We were welcomed with much rejoicing and shouting. Treasure Town was always my favorite place to visit," Mistress Octavia said. "There were always friends to catch up with, feasts to enjoy, and shows filled to and past the brim."
"Who are those two with you?" Pudge asked, pointing to a Riolu and an Eevee. They were leaning on each other, pointing at Mistress Octavia and Master Kricketune.
The Froslass laughed. "Those two were our biggest fans. They were quite the couple." Mistress Octavia tapped the Riolu. "This is Rio." She then tapped the Eevee. "This is Jazzymyn." Mistress Octavia looked at the picture. "She preferred the name 'Jazz,' though. Together they were the most famous exploration team of all time: Team Riojazz. They were responsible for stopping the decay of time. They stopped the evil plots of Darkrai. They did many things, Pudge. I wonder if they are still alive. This was over sixty years ago…" Mistress Octavia fell silent.
Pudge looked more closely at the Riolu and the Eevee. The Riolu had his left paw on the Eevee's back, and the Eevee was pressing her side against the Riolu's side. "Did they love each other?" Pudge asked.
Mistress Octavia dashed some moisture away from her eyes. "Oh yes," she replied. "They loved each other very much." She smiled and put the picture down.
"How could they love each other? They were not the same species," Pudge pointed out.
"That did not matter to them," Mistress Octavia said, and a small light flicked on in Pudge's mind.
"Is that… is that why you kissed my head?" Pudge looked at Mistress Octavia. "Was it because I sang that song for you? The one about you?"
Mistress Octavia winked at him. "I told you that you would understand some day, Pudge. Now, let's drink this hot chocolate before it gets cold, and I'll tell you about this logbook."
Pudge left the Ice Gardens after a long time. Slip was waiting outside the gates for him.
"What took you so long?"
Pudge looked back and saw a silhouette wave to him. Beautiful music began to fill the air.
"Hey, what's up? What took you so long?" Slip asked, poking Pudge in the side.
Pudge smiled. "I had some hot chocolate."
Mistress Octavia pulled the bow over the violin strings slowly, drawing out the final note of the song. The violin had needed no tuning, and the bow had needed no care.
As the note faded into the Gardens, Mistress Octavia smiled broadly. She was looking forward to Pudge returning. Someone needed to keep the violin playing, after all.
The Froslass turned and headed toward her home. Before leaving the Gardens completely, though, she stopped by the dais. She examined the dais and nodded in satisfaction.
Mistress Octavia continued on her way, leaving a sculpture of a Kricketune to watch over the Gardens, aided by a sculpture of a small Pidgey.