"Well she did say to keep walking," Alfred said, examining the bottle.
"Yeah but, what does the ghost of rain mean?" Peter asked, already becoming frustrated. He was nervous, being a stranger in a strange land. He had heard both good and bad stories about the mystical land of the Faerie. He had heard of the magical sea horses that resided in lakes and ponds that drew their victim close and then dragged them down under the water, never to be seen again. He had also heard of the shades that kidnapped children and burned them alive for their evil potions.
Then again he had heard of the kind Faeries and elves that danced in the woods. Peter also remembered the kind and gentle trolls. They were tall and somewhat scary looking but their outsides hid their nice and soft insides. When Peter was younger he fondly thought that his adopted father was like a kind and gentle troll. His mama was like a graceful and beautiful elf. He had told his papa of these thoughts and the King had chuckled and called him a telf or a troll elf.
Peter smiled wider at the memories of his mama and papa calling him their little telf from then on.
The young knight frowned remembering why he was here. He was here to save his father from dying a horribly painful death.
Alfred seemed to read his mind, "Don't worry Peter, we'll save him."
Peter smiled to him and felt somewhat comforted.
Finally, after seeming to walk for hours, they came to a giant clearing. In the giant clearing sat lonely and proud was a tall carved stone. There were strange words scripted into the grey stone. Neither could read them but felt that they already knew this was where they should be.
"So you made it?" A familiar voice rang from above. They looked up and saw Bronwyn sitting daintily on the stone.
"Yes, what do we do now?" Peter asked.
The Faerie flitted down and landed on Peter's outstretched hand.
Softly spoken the rain will fall
to the mist the ghost will call
Barely there it flits alone
Yet is heard in it's own tone
The ghost of rain is a cure
but the gatherer must be sure
She sang the poem to them, her voice like soft silk ringing in the air.
"What does it mean?" Peter asked.
"The ghost of rain is that feeling of cleanliness, of peace that comes after rainfall. Here it can be solidified and used as a cure for any poison or curse that has ever and will ever exist. It will heal your father," Peter's eyes grew hopeful, "But, you must be sure of what you want. You also must be sure that it exists. The Ghost will judge you, if you are true and sure then you will receive the cure. If not, well, I'm not really sure what happens," Bronwyn spoke.
"Peter, you should do this," Alfred said to him.
The younger knight nodded held up the bottle. "Show me what to do?"
Bronwyn smiled kindly and motioned for him to follow her. She flew to and through the rock. Peter gasped and frowned. Nervously he reached his hand out in front of him to stop him from running into the rock in case it really was solid. Thankfully he walked right through it and was at first blinded by a bright blue light.
Finally his eyes adjusted and he was able to look around. He gasped at the sheer beauty around him.
He was in a lush green forrest filled with life and light. It held the wet feeling that happened after it had just rained. He breathed in the moisture and sweet air and sighed happily.
Bronwyn floated in front of him and motioned for him to follow her.
He did and she led him to another clearing, this time with a huge lake that seemed to stretch out beyond the horizon. He stopped and marveled at the crystal clear lake.
The Faerie went out to the middle of the lake and gently touched the water, disturbing the stillness. Ripples billowed out from the center and grew larger and larger until they faded.
Peter watched in awe and fascination as the lake began to glow.
A woman with clear blue skin and white hair surfaced from the water. Her snow hair danced as if he were still submerged and her skin was the very clear and texture of the lake. When she opened her eyes they glowed deep green like lily pads.
Peter stood in slight fear and awe at the amazing beauty and presence the woman had in the air.
Slowly she stepped towards him, he feet making neither sound nor ripple as she gracefully glided over the lake.
She reached him and he realized that she was far far taller than him nearly reaching the top of the trees in her massive height.
"What is it you are here for child?" Her voice was soft and soothing but strong and powerful, much like a waterfall or a thunderstorm.
Peter swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
"My lady," he bowed as his father had taught him, "I have come here to request the healing powers of the ghost of rain."
The water woman looked on with interest.
"What do you need it for?"
Peter took another breath, "My father was cursed by an evil wizard, because of this he is in tremendous pain and I fear he will die," he got down on one knee. "I beg you, My lady, save my father."
She looked down at him and her green glowing eyes gave no emotions.
"What does the ghost of rain mean to you?" She asked.
Peter answered almost instantly, "It means saving my father and my family."
She shook her head, "No. Have you ever felt the ghost?"
This gave Peter pause. What did she mean, had he ever felt it?
He thought back to how Bronwyn had described it and remember a time, only a few years ago, before his father was sick. It had been raining for days and there was finally a break. His mama had been out collecting berries and herbs whilst he and his father stood in the respite of the rain.
"Do you feel that, son?" His father had asked.
Peter was confused, "I don't understand..."
"Close your eyes Peter and let your mind go. Just feel the air."
He did as his father had asked and for a moment he felt nothing, but then he noticed. His mind was quiet and his skin was tingling. He felt at peace and had breathed in the clean wet air.
He sighed happily.
"That, my boy, is the ghost of rain. It is the lingering effect of when the rain is at its end. It is the clean feeling that seeps into your skin and brings you to peace. My mother taught me to feel it," His father had said.
Peter opened his eyes and saw the lake woman waiting patiently for him to answer.
"The Ghost of Rain means... peace, respite, happiness and wholeness. It means being with the ones you love and feeling that nothing else is needed. It means hope in the darkest times and love in the sadness," Peter answered, no longer feeling fear or nervousness.
For the first time, the woman smiled. She nodded and motioned for him to give her the silver bottle.
He held it before her and she touched it ever so slightly with the tip of her finger. An airy blue substance floated around her finger and into the bottle, giving the silver a now bluish glowing hue.
"You are wise for someone so young, but then again, you had wise teachers," she said.
Peter thanked her and with a blink of his eyes she was gone. The young knight sat back, reveling in the lingering feeling of awe.
Bronwyn flitted to him and landed on the bottle, corking it.
"You did great!" She said happily and flew off the way they came.
They walked through the stone and found Alfred sitting on the ground playing with grass. As soon as he saw the two, he jumped up and smiled.
"Did you get it?"
Peter held up the vile and smiled.
Alfred shouted in joy and jumped up and hugged his friend.
"Yes, well done boys," a cruel voice said.
They turned and gasped.
"Ivan!"
