The relationship betwixt humans and faeries has not always been as strong as it is today. Once, indeed, it hung in a precarious balance from which one young girl's actions could tip it either into direct enmity or into peace. This tale all began on a bright summer's afternoon when the Queen of Faery watched the dance…
The Grand Queen of Faery was unhappy. At first she couldn't put her finger on what the origin of her discontent was. Absently she watched from her balcony in the Grand Opera House the climax of the ballet. The essence of a story being so enacted with such grace had captured her heart when she was young, but she now viewed it with indifference as she tried to pinpoint this… unhappiness.
It hit her suddenly, accompanied by the swelling of the music and the desperate dances of the girls below her, striving in vain for the attentions and favor of their queen.
She was bored!
The unheard of atrocity could not be put from her mind and so she leaned over to her faithful advisor and aide Montagio and quickly confided her plight. His eyes lit up with a cunning gleam, sensing a means to put to shame the faeries he hated most for their pathetic support of humans who he so vehemently detested.
The queen was oblivious to whatever scheming motives her aide might possess, for she could not, would not, think of anything but her own pleasure and could not imagine but that dear Montagio could possibly have anything else in mind.
She listened with brightening eyes to his whispers from which he could not completely conceal his joy.
"Oh yes, yes, do it immediately!" The queen exclaimed, giggling like a child and earning a few curious stares.
"Now?"
"Of course!"
Recognizing her petulant tone immediately, Montagio leapt to his feet and cried out, "Stop the dance! Stop immediately! Her royal highness, The Grand Queen of all Faery and the Land of Aya, issues a decree!"
Oblivious to the stares of the audience, both hard and indulgent alike, as well as a single choked sob issuing from the crowd of lost ballerinas on stage, she cried, "I am tired of these ridiculous, repetitive ballets. Give me something new!" She paused and glanced down at Montagio who nodded eagerly in encouragement. "Give me a human!" A collective gasp rippled around the room, "Have her perform the ballet for me."
She turned as if to resume her seat, but Montagio leapt once more to his feet and whispered quickly in her ear. She turned to the crowd once more and said, "If I am not pleased, I will take my revenge on all humans and put an end to their petty arts."
She took her seat and the hushed whispers which had been evoked by her words erupted into conversations and incredulous exclamations. Never had such a thing been done before! Never had a human been taken into the realm, much less before the Queen! As the faeries hummed in excitement at the new intrigue and the dancers slowly slumped off the stage, a slight figure in a long black coat slipped out the door into the street beyond.
Thomas took long rapid strides down the road. The beginnings of a storm danced in the air and he hugged his coat around him as huge gusts of wind tore down the street. He attracted a couple stares as he marched purposely down the street, for he posed quite a dramatic figure. He had long white hair that was tied with a black ribbon in the back, yet his face was devoid of age. Only his eyes testified to the tale his hair told for they were deep with wisdom and many years of looking upon the world. His face, he kept a stoic mask of composure at all times, yet now as he fought through the wind, the mask threatened to break and a slightly twitching in his jaw told the tale of the discomposure which reigned within. He turned off the road onto a winding lane which ended before an old fashioned mansion. On general occasions he would pause for a moment to admire the elegant columns and sweeping landscaping that he had earned for himself and now his son with years and years of hard work. But today, he spared the house not a glance and he trotted up the steps, swept open the door and stepped into the large foyer.
His son thirteen year old son James rushed into the room, his jet black hair slightly tousled and his dark green eyes laden with a touch of fear. "What's happened? I saw you rushing up from halfway down the street!"
"Montagio's done it."
"Done what?"
But Thomas took a deep breath and walked over to the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He could hear James twitching with impatience behind him, knowing he could not push his father.
Finally, Thomas turned to James with a wry smile on his lips. "What do you know about dancing?
Hannah shut the door of the orphanage and leaned against it, closing her eyes and collecting herself. She would not let even Mother Hammond spoil this day for her. This was her day. The day she had been anticipating with joy for months—her first ballet performance, Swan Lake.
Stepping out into the road, she glanced back at the old dilapidated house. A small sign tilted drunkenly proclaiming, "Mother Hammond's Home for Lost Children." None of the "lost children" of the orphanage could look at the sign without a feeling of irony for the old building where each one had spent long lonely hours enduring the woman's slightly crazed shrieks could hardly be called home. And the withered old crone who took in the children and sent them off, regardless of age, to the factory three blocks down to work full days and then bring her their earnings could hardly be called a "mother." The "home" had escaped the eye of government and had regularly turned out criminals and lowlife for over fifty years onto the streets of 1930's London and Hannah's generation should have been no different.
Yet, there was in the girl standing before the house that had sheltered her for fourteen years, a light that had shone on, impervious to the hardships and evils of Mother Hammonds' home. This had been evident for all to see when at age five, she had been taken to the orphanage by her nurse upon the sudden death of her parents. Her world crumbling around her, the love that had tenderly nurtured her since infancy snatched away, the child had gazed upon the ancient building as if laying eyes upon a castle for the very first time.
"Oh Nanny!" she had cried, "This is going to be a wonderful adventure!" And indeed, Hannah had viewed it as such. From the first day, the orphanage had felt Hannah's impact: from the daisies planted by the front walkway, to young Louis who hummed to himself now as he walked to work after Hannah had sat up with him all night, singing softly to chase away the bad dreams which plagued him.
But after being slapped on the face and boxed about the ears for ten years at the hands of Mother Hammond, Hannah had awoken suddenly one morning to suddenly realize two concepts which were revolutionary for her. The first: that she disliked Mother Hammond. The second: that she disliked working at the factory.
That same day, she had resolutely stepped out of the house and walked to the more affluent section of the city where she had seen a sign posting for dancers needed. At the time, Hannah had never done a pirouette in her life, but for some reason, her heart had beaten a pace quicker when she had seen that scrap of paper flapping in the wind, and she had learned to listen to the whims of her heart.
Now, four years later, Hannah smiled back on all of the days that had been leading up to this one. They had been hard, but oh, they had been beautiful.
She had fallen in love with ballet.
It was as if her spirit had waited within her for something to love, and for whatever reason. Had latched onto ballet and she poured herself into it daily with a passion that she had not known was within her. Her passion was not of ambition, but of pure love, and when she danced, she glowed.
She entered into the backstage of the opera house where they were to perform, onto a chaos like no other she had seen. Makeup and powder permeated the air and everywhere girls frantically practiced their plie' and pointes. The eldest girls who were to go on first tore through the maze of discarded costumes and frantic girls to get to their position and occasional desperate cries of "Help! Help! My pin's fallen out!" bounced about the room.
Bewildered, Hannah hesitated at the doorway at the edge of the maelstrom of confusion, and finally coming back to herself, she found her long curling brown hair being yanked into a bun and white powder being furiously patted onto her face. "Come child, you must get dressed! You are late!"
Unbelievably, the chaos had dissolved into a kind of trembling clam as the girls waited with bated breath in the wings of the stage. Hannah's feet unconsciously tapped out her movements which she was about to perform and her heart beat wildly within her. For a breath, she felt a touch of foreboding, as if her step onto the stage would be off a precipice, an irrevocable decision that would cause nothing to ever again be the same. Her moment came and she chased off all such foolish thoughts as she leapt from the wings, forgetting everything but sheer delight as she reveled in that which was her heart.
Thomas and James slipped through the door of the opera house just as it was closing, their fine, transparent wings invisible in their speed. Beside the humans who milled around unaware of their presence, they were miniscule, only the size of a man's hand. Thomas weaved through the crowds, not sparing a glance to the gaudily dressed upper class in their feathers and shining watches hanging conspicuously from pockets by glittering chains: he was not here to see them.
His son, however, did not share his confidence. Nervously, he glanced around in all directions, an uncharacteristic nervousness touching his normally self-assured features. They reached the main seating area and Thomas swooped up over the heads of the audience to an empty balcony seating booth. He settled lightly to his feet and folded his arms, gazing at the empty stage.
James landed less gracefully beside him and gawked at the sea of swirling colors and people bellow them. "It's unbelievable, father!"
Thomas was lost and thought and he looked at his son, "What?"
"The humans, there's so many!"
"Yes, well this is their world, son," Thomas replied chuckling softly as he turned his eyes back to the stage waiting for the show to begin. He gave his son a sidelong glance, "You didn't seem so intimidated by humans when you were pleading to come with me."
James turned a slight shade of red and stuffed his hands in his pockets, "I-I'm not… Well you want me to learn the practice don't you?" He asked quickly, changing the subject.
Thomas's grin turned stiff, "Yes, son." He hesitated then turned again to James, "You must realize though, James, this isn't a game, it—" His words were cut off by the beginning of the music and he quickly gave his full attention to the stage and the dancers just now leaping from the wings.
"What exactly are we looking for?"
"I'll know, when I see it," Thomas answered shortly. James began to say something, but Thomas held up his hand for silence.
The scenes flowed by and Thomas traced each dancer with his eyes. He saw beauty and he saw skill, but he began to feel a gnawing anxiety that he did, indeed, not know what he was looking for. Then, suddenly, he saw her.
It was in the second act when the princess Odette makes her appearance before the prince Siegfried. Odette was a talented dancer, her movements smooth and elegant, yet it was not she who caught Thomas's eye. No, it was one of the nameless swans who made up Odette's entourage of swans that made him catch his breath.
Her appearance was unremarkable, appearing to be about eighteen with light brown hair and soft gray-green eyes, yet Thomas saw something in her—a joy in her dancing—that made him believe that, impossibly, she was worthy to dance before the queen.
Throughout the rest of the dance he watched her and his conviction grew. She had somehow managed to personify in her dance the purest, most endearing heart of ballet and its entirety that showed through every leap, through every circle she spun, through every delicate tip of the head and smile which lit up her face.
Finally, the music swelled, the dancers left the stage, and the immediate hush which always grips the audience, as they catch their breath, ensued. Yet, inevitably, the enchanted moment was shattered as people applauded and stood, searching for their coats and issuing general comments about the performance.
Thomas didn't hesitate but leapt off the balcony, soaring above the audience towards the stage. James jumped off belatedly and called after him, "What did you think? Odette was pretty good…" His voice trailed away as he realized his father heard nothing, his gaze straight ahead as he swerved around the curtains and emerged upon a crowded room of girls, reveling in the giddiness which comes from a completed performance.
Thomas hovered, his eyes quickly scanning the room. He almost missed the figure slipping quietly out the door. He flew forward and, closely followed by James, shot into the night.
Hannah softly opened the door to the orphanage and crept up the creaking ancient staircase. Entering the room she shared with all of the rest of the children, she tiptoed around her sleeping peers until she came to stand by her pallet. For a moment, she hesitated for she just couldn't bring herself to undress out of her swan costume and thereby end the magical night. After a moment of indecision, she got in bed fully dressed and pulled the worn blanket up to her chin. Wearied by the night's excitement, she began to drift off to sleep, humming to herself the last refrain of the ballet…
For a moment, she almost didn't recognize the two tiny figures who alighted onto the pillow next to her face. Yet, suddenly, she was completely awake for before her stood two creatures with human features and thin transparent wings which identified them to her, ineffably, as,
"Faeries," she whispered with awe in her voice and, where others would have felt shock or fear, pure delight danced in her eyes.
"Aye, and—" The younger one began before his words were stopped from a stern glare from the elder.
"I, madam, am Thomas of Harpscourt of Aya and this is my son and protégé, James—"
"Jim," He said quickly, former misgivings now strangely vanished from his eyes as he was seen by a human for the first time. Thomas gave him another glare,
"I am an ambassador in her highness the queen's court and I am here to ask for your consent for us to escort you to the land of Aya… to dance before the queen." Thomas finished and gravely bowed, remaining solemnly in the bent position.
Realizing that he was waiting for her to say something, Hannah began, "I-I.." she broke off, suddenly overwhelmed. Perhaps she had imagined this! Perhaps she was mad! Feeling a sudden need to confirm her sanity, she impulsively shot out her hand and held it before Thomas. "Hit me please."
Thomas straightened up quickly and looked at her, offense written on his normally passive face. "I would never hit a lady!"
"Hit me please, sir," Hannah repeated with a touch of adamancy. James, seeing his father's normally stoic face a grimace of bewilderment and horror, could not hold back a laugh, for he had an idea of the torture his chivalrous father was enduring, forced to choose between hitting a lady and complying to her wishes.
Thomas seemed to make up his mind for he straightened and said, "I would never—"
"I shall oblige you my lady!" James cried and with mock seriousness hit the girl's finger which was about the size of his arm.
The concerned look on Hannah's face vanished and she cried, "Oh! It's not a dream!" and then glanced around to make sure that her exclamation had not woken any of the rest of the children. Doubt was not a natural feeling for Hannah to experience and lasting traces of this foul emotion dried up quickly and were replaced by a glow of excitement.
She said nothing, but Thomas, recovering from his disconcertment, saw in her eyes all of the answer he needed. Without another word, he bowed and then threw into the air a handful of sparkling golden powder.
Inexplicably, Hannah felt a wave of drowsiness overcome her. The next thing she knew, her head rested on the pillow, and as her eyes gently closed, she saw two figures, silhouetted by moonlight, flit out the open window into the night.
Hannah awoke the next morning in a strange room and she sat up straight in bed with a start. Gradually, her confusion and panic resided as memories of the night before trickled through. Her heart gave a quick thud within her: could it be?
The room around her was simple and the square window on the whitewashed wall revealed that she was apparently surrounded by woods. Tentatively, she stepped out of bed, her light ballerina garb rustling slightly, and opened the door onto a small, rustic kitchen. Just as she sat down at a rough wooden table, the two faeries of the night before flew in through the large open window carrying an apple and bread. She found that she now appeared to be their size.
Thomas handed her the food and said, "Eat quickly, you're going to need it."
"Thank you." Hannah waited but Thomas stared out the window and didn't speak again.
When she had finished, he turned to her and said, "We have one week. One week to make you a dancer worthy to perform before the Queen of all the Realm.
She nodded, a smile on her lips and in her eyes, but he shook his head.
"There is so much that you do not understand. Do you know why we are in the outskirts of the Forrest Kii instead of the Queen's City of Aya?"
She shook her head.
"Follow me and I shall tell you a story." He turned to James, "Go immediately to Aya and notify the Queen that a dancer has been found." And without another word to Hannah, he flew out the window.
Hannah jumped up and ran out the door and through the woods after him, keeping up with him only by the sunlight reflected brightly off his wings. Eventually, he slowed enough for her that she could walk.
"In the beginning of time, the faeries were a solitary people, joyful and content in their pastimes. In those days, the existence of humans wasn't known to us. And then one day, that knowledge was common. Now faeries have many natural flaws, but greed is not one of them." He hesitated and then said, "Not a common one at least. Hence, the faeries shared the element of talent with the humans. We shared singing, art, athletics, and we shared dancing. Yet there are those today who think these gifts should be taken back, that humans are not worthy stewards…"
He paused while Hannah took this in.
"The Queen has been influenced by certain people in her court to issue a decree that she desires a human to dance before her. Right now, those who wish to take away the arts from the humans have so much power, this dance alone will determine if humans will ever enjoy such things again…"
His voice died away and the only sounds to be heard were Hannah's footsteps through the underbrush and the gently awakening morning.
"But why was Ithe onechosen?" Hannah asked so softly that even Thomas almost missed her voice. But Thomas only shook his head and the went on in silence until they emerged onto a clearing.
A small, "Oh!" Escaped her lips and when Thomas glanced at her rapt face, he saw the clearing through her eyes.
The bright grass was illuminated by streams of morning sunlight cutting through the fading mist and the surrounding firs glowed as tiny dew drops caught the sun's light. Thomas shook his head, marveling at this strange girl who could, despite the sudden troubles and responsibility dropped on her shoulders, still see and love beauty. He opened his mouth to tell her that she was to dance, that every moment was to be spent expediously, that over the course of the coming week, he was going to push her to her limit and beyond, but it was for naught. For, her eyes gently closed in sheer awe, Hannah stepped into the middle of the alcove.
And she danced.
A week later, Hannah waited, huddled in blankets in the luscious suite of the Queen's castle, too excited to sleep despite her weariness. For her body was indeed tired; she had worked harder in the days past than ever she had in her life, which had certainly been by no means pampered. So, she watched the full moon, marveling in its brilliance, instead of sleeping.
Suddenly, she started, for a small figure was silhouetted before her eyes against the moon's bright beams. For a moment, she thought it must be Thomas, but any such thoughts vanished instantly as the figure settled lightly at the foot of her bed. In appearance, he was different from any of the faeries she had seen in Aya. His limbs were longer and thinner. His eyes were inordinately large on his pale face which was almost as white as the moon behind him. His hair was hardly any darker and fell loosely about his face. Likewise, his garb was different; instead of the human-like garbs that Thomas wore, he seemed to be dressed in leaves and the petals of flowers.
She began to ask him who he was, but then he bowed to her, a deep, respectful bow, and then he began to dance. Hannah could not hold back a gasp as she watched him for it was like nothing she had ever seen. He moved so fast, he was almost a blur and his fluid motions made him appear like water. And with every passing moment, though it seemed impossible, he managed to move faster. Yet what emanated from him was fiery passion, fierce and angry. Hannah couldn't pull her eyes away, though she felt a growing sense of foreboding.
He moved so rapidly, she almost didn't see the fine red powder that he threw liberally into the air. Suddenly, he halted the dance, the red dust settling into a circle around him. He glanced up expectantly at Hannah and saw the bright light in her eyes—her identity, fading until it had altogether disappeared into the black recesses of her mind, to be replaced by a dead, glazed stare.
"That is the dance of the faeries," he said in a hiss, a slow smile creeping disturbingly upon his lips. "Humans are undoubtedly unworthy to mar what is rightfully ours."
Hannah's head nodded.
"You must cry this before the Queen, "I am a mere human, unworthy to use what is the Faeries." He paused and then his smile turned into a grin, revealing his pointed teeth. "Sleep now."
Hannah's head nodded again and laid down in bed. She was unaware of the faery being joined by another who asked quietly, "Will this work, Montagio?"
"It will work."
The next morning, the servants who escorted the human girl to the stage where she was to perform before the queen were puzzled by her stiff movements and dead eyes, yet they innocently dismissed it, out of ignorance, as being characteristic to all humans. So they said nothing as they lead her out onto the Grand Stage which buzzed with the wings and voices of millions of the inhabitants of Aya. The noise fell abruptly as she walked out into the center before them.
Hannah hesitated.
Up until that point, she had felt nothing, for that part of her that was herself had been pushed away and overwhelmed by that which was Montagio's will. But in her slippers out on the stage, that part of her stirred and instantly turmoil reigned within her.
I am a mere human…
I am a mere human…
I am a mere human…
"I—" she began, and then hesitated once more. And in that hesitation, her being flooded back to her, victorious over the struggle. With her being came the memories. Of endless days in the orphanage. Of tears. Of hours spent working under Thomas's patience. But the memory which brought a smile to her lips and her toes to the air was the day when she had first learned what it meant to dance.
The multitudes of faces watching her disappeared.
She was alone in the dance room in London, lifting her slippers to the air for the very first time, and falling in love.
She loved.
And she danced.
The Heart of the Dance
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