Author's Notes. I've always been very fond of fairy tales retold in interesting ways, and I've also always thought that fairy tale concepts are wonderful for fanfic plots. Of course, it's necessary to twist the original story just enough to make it fresh, and I certainly plan to drop in a few twists. I'm not quite sure how this idea crept up on me, but I'm glad it did.
This story is yaoi/yuri free, no language, no sexual situations. Basically, just some clean, cute fun. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer. Magic Knight Rayearth and all related characters are © CLAMP. I'm just a silly little girl who loves the characters and loves writing about them, and I am in no way associated with CLAMP.
The Swallow Sang It to Me
Chapter One
There was a forest about two days' journey from the nearest town, and in this forest was a little cottage. The cottage itself was rather plain and inconspicuous with its white clapboard siding and black shutters; but the gardens surrounding the house were magnificent.
A little cobblestone path extended merrily from the cottage's front step all the way to the edge of the woods, and until it reached the end of the small clearing the house sat in, it broke off on the sides in many smaller stone paths. These side-paths wound in a deliciously sporadic manner throughout the gardens, which burst with color and fragrance even in the winter. Countless species of flowers bobbed their heads jovially in the breeze, a splendid show for anyone willing to sit a spell on the numerous white wicker benches and watch.
The keeper of the gardens and the inhabitant of the cottage was a solitary woman by the name of Presea. She wasn't especially beautiful or mysterious, as keepers of exotic gardens in the hearts of forests tend to be, but she was amiable and sweet-natured, if a bit hot-tempered. She spent her days tending to her flowers, reading from her vast personal library, and wandering the woods she knew so well; but Presea was lonely. She was so far from the closest town, and though the chipmunks and raccoons were cute and entertaining, they didn't come near matching the companionship of other people.
It was a bitterly cold day in January, just a few months past the ten-year mark of Presea's time living in her cottage, when she bundled up in her warmest clothing, tied her winter cloak over her shoulders, strapped on her pack, and bid her winter gardens farewell as she set out for town. She was planning on buying some more food supplies to get her through the next few months, so she brought her cart out of the shed in back and began hauling the heavy contraption up the cobblestone path.
It took hours to get to the edge of the forest, dragging the cart behind her. Presea kept herself in good shape and was strong enough to pull the cart at a slow, plodding pace, but she needed frequent rests and the woods weren't small. However, she made it through before midday and was greeted at the treeline by the merry sight of the lit windows in Ascot's little hut. She dropped the cart with a dull thud by the stables and tromped through the snow over to the door of the house, rapping on it curtly.
The thin oak door swung open, revealing the cheerful, bushy-haired young man. "Presea!" Ascot cried, smiling. "Glad you're here. I've got Mokona all ready to go. Let me get my coat."
In the time it took Presea to return the greeting, Ascot had pulled on a furry brown coat and was ushering Presea out the door. He ran ahead of her into the stables. She had only waited a moment by the cart when he brought out a strongly-built white horse, leading him by the reins. Bringing the horse over to Presea's cart, Ascot deftly hitched him up; he flung a blanket or two over the horse's back. "Don't work Mokona too hard, now. You know he doesn't like the cold."
"Then you should've given me someone else." Presea smiled a playful little smile. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of him." She climbed up into the cart's seat, taking hold of the reins. "See you on Thursday afternoon." She snapped the reins, Mokona lurched forward, and before she knew it, Ascot's cozy little hut was far behind.
----------------------
It took the all of Sunday and the best of Monday to get to the quaint village of Cephiro. By then, Presea was tired and hungry from a diet of dried-out biscuits and very little water (which constantly froze in its jug and had to be melted over a campfire before being drinkable), as was poor Mokona, even though it had only been two days. So Presea checked into the inn, where Mokona got himself fresh water and warm oats, and Presea herself got three hot meals and a real bed with a real fireplace nearby instead of a wet, cold, poorly insulated tent built hastily against a tree.
She took her time shopping on Tuesday, having boxboys from the stores help her lug the crates of tinned fish and jarred fruits and vegetables and ingredients for bread and all the like over to her cart. Allowing herself a bit of a treat, Presea purchased a small sack of peppermints and lemon drops as well (half of which she would leave with Ascot as thanks for his help). She stocked up on paper and ink; she visited the post office to pick up the letters from her friends and relatives.
It was in the evening after she had had her supper at the inn, and Presea was taking one last stroll before heading to bed early. She watched the little children pelting snowballs at one another and the women shopping and chatting. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. It was always nice visting this town. The people were very sweet, very kind...
"Pardon, ma'am?"
Presea stopped, startled, and turned her head in the direction of the voice. She was greeted with the sight of a tiny, elderly man wrapped in layers of white and brown blankets, sitting at a petite stand at the side of the street. He beckoned to her, and she hesitantly went to him.
The man looked up at her with surprisingly young-looking, bright blue eyes. "I've got a great deal for you," he said in a hushed voice. He extended his hand, which was closed in a loose fist. "Would you like to hear?" Presea nodded slightly; he opened his hand, revealing three small seeds. One, the tiniest of all, was dark pink in color, rough-textured. Another was about the size of Presea's thumnail, smooth and pale blue. The third was somewhere between the other two in size, with a pebbly, dark green surface.
"These are not ordinary seeds," the little man whispered. "They will grow in any weather and will always flourish."
Presea gave him a wry smile. "You've never seen my gardens," she whispered back. "I already have flowers that bloom in every kind of weather. There are none like it."
The man arched an eyebrow and smiled back. "These are still special seeds," he persisted. "If you plant them with love, your greatest wish will be granted."
Immediately, Presea thought of her aching loneliness and of how dearly she wanted companionship. Her deep brown gaze met his pure blue one. "Tell me," she said breathlessly, "could they bring me... could the bring me a friend?"
His smile widened. "Certainly."
Presea shoved her hand into her pocket, searching for her money. "How much?"
A small hand reached out, resting on her arm and stilling her frenzied search. "For you," the man said, "they're free." He placed the seeds in her palm, still smiling.
Staring at the seeds in her hand and then at him, Presea asked in bewilderment, "Free?"
"For now." He gave her a secretive wink.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't worry," he assured. "It won't cost you anything." She gazed at him, puzzled, but he waved his hands at her, shooing her away. "Go on, now. You need your rest for you big journey tomorrow." And before she could ask how he knew, Presea realized he had hurried off.
----------------------
It was three days later that Presea knelt in the garden beneath her bedroom window. The weather was still bitterly cold, but the snowstorm had ended as she traveled home the previous few days. And though she knew she should wait until the weather grew warmer, she found herself unable to delay the planting of the three odd seeds any longer. Besides, the man had said these seeds would flourish in any weather.
She slid her gloves off her hands and broke the frozen upper crust of the earth with her fist. Forcefully, she dug into the dark dirt with her fingers, burrowing three holes. The strange little man in town hadn't told her how deep to bury the seeds, so she made the holes about as deep as her first knuckle. After brushing the dirt from her hands, Presea reached into her pocket, producing the seeds. She stared at them in her palm - such little things, so full of potential. With a smile, she dropped the rough pink seed into the first hole, the bean-like blue one into the second, and the pebbly green seed into the third.
And when the seeds were covered lovingly with dirt, Presea clasped her hands and lifted her face heavenward. "Please," she sighed, her voice wistful and pleading, "let these poor things grow. I don't know how they're supposed to fulfill my heart's desire, but I need someone to keep me company. I can't leave my gardens, but I can't go on all alone. Please... however this is meant to work, let it."
That done, the blond woman rose to her feet and hurried back inside.
This story is yaoi/yuri free, no language, no sexual situations. Basically, just some clean, cute fun. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer. Magic Knight Rayearth and all related characters are © CLAMP. I'm just a silly little girl who loves the characters and loves writing about them, and I am in no way associated with CLAMP.
Chapter One
There was a forest about two days' journey from the nearest town, and in this forest was a little cottage. The cottage itself was rather plain and inconspicuous with its white clapboard siding and black shutters; but the gardens surrounding the house were magnificent.
A little cobblestone path extended merrily from the cottage's front step all the way to the edge of the woods, and until it reached the end of the small clearing the house sat in, it broke off on the sides in many smaller stone paths. These side-paths wound in a deliciously sporadic manner throughout the gardens, which burst with color and fragrance even in the winter. Countless species of flowers bobbed their heads jovially in the breeze, a splendid show for anyone willing to sit a spell on the numerous white wicker benches and watch.
The keeper of the gardens and the inhabitant of the cottage was a solitary woman by the name of Presea. She wasn't especially beautiful or mysterious, as keepers of exotic gardens in the hearts of forests tend to be, but she was amiable and sweet-natured, if a bit hot-tempered. She spent her days tending to her flowers, reading from her vast personal library, and wandering the woods she knew so well; but Presea was lonely. She was so far from the closest town, and though the chipmunks and raccoons were cute and entertaining, they didn't come near matching the companionship of other people.
It was a bitterly cold day in January, just a few months past the ten-year mark of Presea's time living in her cottage, when she bundled up in her warmest clothing, tied her winter cloak over her shoulders, strapped on her pack, and bid her winter gardens farewell as she set out for town. She was planning on buying some more food supplies to get her through the next few months, so she brought her cart out of the shed in back and began hauling the heavy contraption up the cobblestone path.
It took hours to get to the edge of the forest, dragging the cart behind her. Presea kept herself in good shape and was strong enough to pull the cart at a slow, plodding pace, but she needed frequent rests and the woods weren't small. However, she made it through before midday and was greeted at the treeline by the merry sight of the lit windows in Ascot's little hut. She dropped the cart with a dull thud by the stables and tromped through the snow over to the door of the house, rapping on it curtly.
The thin oak door swung open, revealing the cheerful, bushy-haired young man. "Presea!" Ascot cried, smiling. "Glad you're here. I've got Mokona all ready to go. Let me get my coat."
In the time it took Presea to return the greeting, Ascot had pulled on a furry brown coat and was ushering Presea out the door. He ran ahead of her into the stables. She had only waited a moment by the cart when he brought out a strongly-built white horse, leading him by the reins. Bringing the horse over to Presea's cart, Ascot deftly hitched him up; he flung a blanket or two over the horse's back. "Don't work Mokona too hard, now. You know he doesn't like the cold."
"Then you should've given me someone else." Presea smiled a playful little smile. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of him." She climbed up into the cart's seat, taking hold of the reins. "See you on Thursday afternoon." She snapped the reins, Mokona lurched forward, and before she knew it, Ascot's cozy little hut was far behind.
It took the all of Sunday and the best of Monday to get to the quaint village of Cephiro. By then, Presea was tired and hungry from a diet of dried-out biscuits and very little water (which constantly froze in its jug and had to be melted over a campfire before being drinkable), as was poor Mokona, even though it had only been two days. So Presea checked into the inn, where Mokona got himself fresh water and warm oats, and Presea herself got three hot meals and a real bed with a real fireplace nearby instead of a wet, cold, poorly insulated tent built hastily against a tree.
She took her time shopping on Tuesday, having boxboys from the stores help her lug the crates of tinned fish and jarred fruits and vegetables and ingredients for bread and all the like over to her cart. Allowing herself a bit of a treat, Presea purchased a small sack of peppermints and lemon drops as well (half of which she would leave with Ascot as thanks for his help). She stocked up on paper and ink; she visited the post office to pick up the letters from her friends and relatives.
It was in the evening after she had had her supper at the inn, and Presea was taking one last stroll before heading to bed early. She watched the little children pelting snowballs at one another and the women shopping and chatting. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. It was always nice visting this town. The people were very sweet, very kind...
"Pardon, ma'am?"
Presea stopped, startled, and turned her head in the direction of the voice. She was greeted with the sight of a tiny, elderly man wrapped in layers of white and brown blankets, sitting at a petite stand at the side of the street. He beckoned to her, and she hesitantly went to him.
The man looked up at her with surprisingly young-looking, bright blue eyes. "I've got a great deal for you," he said in a hushed voice. He extended his hand, which was closed in a loose fist. "Would you like to hear?" Presea nodded slightly; he opened his hand, revealing three small seeds. One, the tiniest of all, was dark pink in color, rough-textured. Another was about the size of Presea's thumnail, smooth and pale blue. The third was somewhere between the other two in size, with a pebbly, dark green surface.
"These are not ordinary seeds," the little man whispered. "They will grow in any weather and will always flourish."
Presea gave him a wry smile. "You've never seen my gardens," she whispered back. "I already have flowers that bloom in every kind of weather. There are none like it."
The man arched an eyebrow and smiled back. "These are still special seeds," he persisted. "If you plant them with love, your greatest wish will be granted."
Immediately, Presea thought of her aching loneliness and of how dearly she wanted companionship. Her deep brown gaze met his pure blue one. "Tell me," she said breathlessly, "could they bring me... could the bring me a friend?"
His smile widened. "Certainly."
Presea shoved her hand into her pocket, searching for her money. "How much?"
A small hand reached out, resting on her arm and stilling her frenzied search. "For you," the man said, "they're free." He placed the seeds in her palm, still smiling.
Staring at the seeds in her hand and then at him, Presea asked in bewilderment, "Free?"
"For now." He gave her a secretive wink.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Don't worry," he assured. "It won't cost you anything." She gazed at him, puzzled, but he waved his hands at her, shooing her away. "Go on, now. You need your rest for you big journey tomorrow." And before she could ask how he knew, Presea realized he had hurried off.
It was three days later that Presea knelt in the garden beneath her bedroom window. The weather was still bitterly cold, but the snowstorm had ended as she traveled home the previous few days. And though she knew she should wait until the weather grew warmer, she found herself unable to delay the planting of the three odd seeds any longer. Besides, the man had said these seeds would flourish in any weather.
She slid her gloves off her hands and broke the frozen upper crust of the earth with her fist. Forcefully, she dug into the dark dirt with her fingers, burrowing three holes. The strange little man in town hadn't told her how deep to bury the seeds, so she made the holes about as deep as her first knuckle. After brushing the dirt from her hands, Presea reached into her pocket, producing the seeds. She stared at them in her palm - such little things, so full of potential. With a smile, she dropped the rough pink seed into the first hole, the bean-like blue one into the second, and the pebbly green seed into the third.
And when the seeds were covered lovingly with dirt, Presea clasped her hands and lifted her face heavenward. "Please," she sighed, her voice wistful and pleading, "let these poor things grow. I don't know how they're supposed to fulfill my heart's desire, but I need someone to keep me company. I can't leave my gardens, but I can't go on all alone. Please... however this is meant to work, let it."
That done, the blond woman rose to her feet and hurried back inside.