DISCLAIMER: This licence isn't mine. The opinions express by the characters are not mine. I do not support nor encourage the illegal acts or words present here. I can make a distinction between fiction and reality and I trust in my readership's ability to do the same.

Chapter 47: The Ultimate Face-Off

Foreword: If you don't care for Berrykins, you will certainly bore to death while reading this chapter. If it's the case, you can skip it and read the following one. I promise I won't be mad at you.

After this short night, Berrykin Bloom had to gather all his courage in order to get out of his bed, when his alarm clock rang at 5.00 a.m., as usual. But he could not allow himself to dawdle in bed. For the other Berrykins, he had to be exemplary. And, he absolutely had to see Strawberry Shortcake. He went out of his house and started his morning check in the orchard. At 5.30 a.m., Berrykin Daniel still hadn't joined him; and Berrykin Bloom had to pound on his apprentice's door to force him to get up. Then, they both weeded their community's fields, Berrykin Daniel didn't stop loudly yawning and asking him why they could not have an exceptional lie in, until 7.00 a.m. Berrykin Bloom told Daniel to carry on alone during his absence ("Don't take advantage of the opportunity to take a nap, because I'll guess it and I'll punish you"), and he went to the Café, to catch Strawberry Shortcake. Without mentioning Blueberry Pie's getaway, he told her that he had noticed the little girl was missing her parents, and that she should see them a little bit more often. It was believable, because Blueberry Pie being the twin princesses' playmate, and Berrykin Bloom being the princesses' tutor, he was also, by extension, Blueberry Pie's one.

-This is not your fault, miss Shortcake, and I witness all the efforts you do for her. However, we cannot deny Blueberry Pie is in a tricky situation. If her parents had the opportunity of taking care of her full-time, or had definitively abandoned her, her situation would have been clearer. However, in the present instance, we have to constantly find ways to answer to her interrogations. And, one must admit they are warranted.

-Of course, they are. This is Blueberry Pie's tragedy: how can you convince this child that her parents care for her, when she sees her father once a week, and her mother one a month, in spite of their willing? … Berrykin Bloom, are you sure you are alright? You look awful.

-I'm just tired. I had a restless night. Don't be worry about me, but take care of Blueberry Pie instead.

But Berrykin Bloom had to learn that, at his age, he could not recklessly have a "midnight swim" in the middle of the month of March.

The first pins and needles he felt in his throat were easy to ignore, but, in the beginning of the afternoon, hawking stopped to be enough for dispelling them, and he started to cough. It was firstly a light throat clearing, but which inexorably turned into evident bouts of coughing after each effort he made as the day passed. Even the little princesses noticed he was not himself. However, Berrykin Bloom pretended to ignore his symptoms until the Princess Berrykin paid them a visit.

-I assure Your Majesty there's nothing (cough) She should worry about. I've met with (cough) an epidemic of whooping cough during my youth; and (cough) I can say from experience that what I've caught had no common feature with it.

-Whooping cough or not, the Princess Berrykin replied, "No one can deny you are ill. I've spotted you thanks to the noise made by your cough."

-I thank Your Majesty for the attention She brings (cough) at my humble person, but I repeat it is just a slight indisposition.

-A slight indisposition to which germs you spread every time you expectorate! This is why… (And the Princess pointed her scepter at Berrykin Bloom with an accusing air) … "By virtue of the authority vested in me, I solemnly order you to take a sickness leave. Of course, it won't be deducted from your week of paid vacation."

-Your Majesty, my condition (cough) does not prevent me yet from working.

-Well, if you don't think of your own comfort, consider it as a security measure: we don't know yet what you are suffering of, and you may be contagious. A quarantining is necessary if you don't want to start a new epidemy, similar to the one of whooping cough you've experienced. Anyway- and the Princess had a hangdog look- "You'll get better even faster if you take some rest. If you push your luck too far, your state of health will get worse, and I will be worried to death about you, at my turn. You don't want to make me worry myself sick, do you?"

The Princess exactly knew the impact her words would have. Since he had been her own tutor, Berrykin Bloom had considered that the Princess Berrykin had her whole fair shade of suffering after her mother's death; and so, he had always carefully spared her everything that could hurt her again. Once more, she wasn't wrong: Berrykin Bloom gave in.

-Tomorrow, if I feel better, I'll be back to my post, he promised.

Berrykin Daniel was delighted. To him, his master had anything else than a common cold, but his sickness leave would give him a full afternoon of freedom. This night, maybe he could leave his job sooner. Maybe he would even have the time to play a Dandyball match-something he had not the time to do anymore. Nevertheless, his hope was short-lived: Berrykin Bloom had other projects for him.

-Berrykin Daniel, please, finished plowing the door and sow potatoes seeds (cough). You will have to ask the other Berrykins for help if you want everything to be over tonight.

The Princess Berrykin promised him she would personally check if these instructions had been properly followed at the end of the day, and Berrykin Daniel had nothing else to do than saying goodbye to his Dandyball match.

On the very night, Berrykin Daniel visited Berrykin Bloom. He had just stopped off at the Café, from where he was bringing a bowl of soup and the latest pieces of new for his master. He did not expect to find him shivering, twitching at the pace of his bouts of coughing, wrapped in his bedspread.

-Damn climate imbalance, the old Berrykin muttered. "(Cough) In my time, the month of March was not that chilly".

-The weather is not that bad, Berrykin Daniel protested. "You must be feverish. Would you like to see a doctor, sir?"

-It's not worth it, Berrykin Bloom said with a hoarse voice. "I'll (cough) get better in no time."

-Strawberry Shortcake gave me some soup for you. Do you know what she did today? She had found an arrangement with mister Huckleberry Pie. Our little Blueberry Pie will spend the rest of the week with him, in Green Meadow Village!

-When will she leave? Berrykin Bloom asked. His glassy eyes were shining again.

-In around one hour.

-So, we don't have time to spare, Berrykin Bloom declared. He stood up with difficulty from his bed and dragged himself about to his desk, there he hastily wrote some words on a sheet of paper he carefully folded and gave to Berrykin Daniel.

-What is it?

-A letter for (cough) mister Huckleberry Pie, in which I inscribed the precise details about the talk we had last night. It may help him to (cough) understand her, a little bit better. Please, sonny, bring it (cough) to Blueberry Pie as fast as you can. Huckleberry Pie must read it.

Berrykin Daniel completed his task with conscientiousness and, in no time, was back at his master's bedside, bringing another letter with it.

-Who gave it to you, sonny?

-Little Blueberry herself, sir. She was sorry to hear you are sick and she hopes you won't hold it against her.

Berrykin Bloom smiled.

-I won't. This is not her fault: who could blame her for having a (cough) moment of madness? Her distress was sincere, and it would have been criminal to deny (cough) her the reassurance she needed so much. This is what I (cough) said in the letter I have written for her father. She doesn't have to feel guilty, and (cough) she could enjoy her well-deserved holydays with her father. Everyone needs to recharge one's battery (cough). Can I read this letter, now?

Meanwhile, Berrykin Daniel was searching a way to improve vis master's wellbeing during this illness, that promised to be longer than expected. Berrykin houses were designed to offer four walls and a waterproof roof, as their owners were supposed to spend their lives outside, at work. Berrykin Bloom's house did not depart from this rule: it was but functional. He had a bed, a table where he could eat and work, two chairs, a bathroom, and it was everything. The only "luxury" he had, and that distinguished his house from the others, was a large closet Berrykin Daniel searched. It was full with bottles of remedy made of medicinal plant, cans of homemade weedkiller and other kind of medicine against every affection the orchards could suffer off. In a way, it was hosting the kingdom's whole medicine cabinet. Another shelving unit was covered with stacks of notebooks and binders, neatly piled. The only personal touch it had had to be found of the last shelving unit, where Berrykin Bloom had put a scarf and a woolly hat in contemplation of winter time, a supplementary pair of bedsheets and a spare blanket. Taking advantage of the situation, Berrykin Daniel had an exceptional fit of power and took with authority the scarf and the blanket out of the closet.

-Dear child, Berrykin Bloom muttered in his corner, still gazing at his letter. "Her behavior is unpredictable, but her remorse is but sincere. Who could stay angry at her?"

-Please, sir, go back to bed, Berrykin Daniel said. He had laid the second blanket above Berrykin Bloom's first one, which was so frayed that the white bedsheet was almost visible through it.

-Do not despise (cough) my old blanket, sonny. It is almost as old as me… And (cough) maybe it has great things to teach you.

-Of course, Berrykin Daniel answered, not wishing to annoy his master who was already weakened by illness and tiredness; even though he did not know what he was supposed to learn from a blanket. "Eat your soup and try to take some rest. I'll go to see you, tomorrow morning."

-At five o'clock, without fail! Berrykin Bloom mischievously added. "If not, I'll (cough) personally grab you by the scruff of the neck to send you to work".

Berrykin Daniel's prediction was true: the following morning, Berrykin Bloom was still feverish, and forced to stay at home. By this way, Berrykin Daniel found himself named "Gardener in chief", by default, and until Berrykin Bloom's full recovery. It was not a comfortable situation: Berrykin Daniel had no idea about the way he had to organize efficiently his days of work, nor what he had to organize for the future seedings, nor what he had to answer to the other Berrykins when they asked him if they should sow cabbages or lettuces; and he sincerely hope his master would be on his feet in no time. Meanwhile, he often came to visit Berrykin Bloom to seek advices and ask him what he should do. His visits had for positive aspects that he could keep an eye on the old Berrykin's state of health, and give news to the Royal Family who was extremely worried, but who did not dare to approach him. The Princess Berrykin was in the right: she did not know how contagious Berrykin Bloom was, and how grave his illness was; in a word, she did not want to expose her daughters to an unknown illness. Berrykin Daniel was the hyphen of all those protagonists. To Berrykin Bloom, he brought drawings from the young princesses and wish of speedy recovery from their mother, and the old gardener pinned the pictures up in his wall, above his beadboard and around his Royal Rutabaga, with a lot of love. He was extremely touched to see the kindness the twins showed him, they who were so carefree, without taking their rank into consideration. From his side, Berrykin Bloom sent his thanks to the Royal Family and new instructions for Berrykin Daniel. It was certainly exhilarating to see all his colleague working for him and obeying his lower remarks, the young apprentice thought. However, all the consequences of this harvest, during which seeding he had been the only real master, would fall on him. Finally, it was a good thing his apprenticeship was still aimed to take few years.

However, he noticed that his acknowledges were growing with giant strides. Berrykin Bloom was stuck in bed and, even though he was sure he was only affected by a throat infection, the fact remained that Berrykin Daniel was the only way he had to have his daily work done, by proxy; and so, he was forced to share all his techniques and tips with him. These private lessons always took place at mealtimes. Berrykin Daniel always appeared carrying his lunchbox in one hand, a cup of herbal tea or a bowl of steaming soup in the other one, to make sure his master ate and kept hydrated properly. Then, pretending to be worried, he asked Berrykin Bloom if he felt good enough for bringing his spoon to his mouth, or if he needed to be fed small quantities. The half-angry, half-amused look he gave him as a response was a good way to test his degree of conscious (the doubt was allowed: one day, Berrykin Daniel had directly asked Berrykin Bloom how he was, and his master had answered him: For oft, when on my couch I lie, In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye, Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils*. This poetic surge had been followed by a long bout of coughing. Berrykin Daniel had seriously wondered if Berrykin Bloom was struck by a sudden high fever that made him having visions, until Bloom explained him he was quoting Wordsworth again to explain him his moral was good thanks to the memory of his beloved orchards he could not wait to meet again). When Berrykin Daniel was reassured, they used to have lunch together; Berrykin Daniel asking questions, Berrykin Bloom doing his best for answering them. Berrykin Daniel also made sure Berrykin Bloom took his medicine: thyme syrup against cough, elderberry syrup against fever, marshmallow syrup against sore throat.

Berrykin Bloom could not tell why he enjoyed that much Berrykin Daniel's visit. Every Berrykins needed strong social links with his peers, but this time, it was different. In Daniel's presence, Berrykin Bloom felt appeased and relaxed. When his apprentice had to leave him, his old, irrational fears stroke him again and he started to worry and to writhe even though he would have a hard job explaining why. He didn't sleep well, when he was alone, and secretly wished Daniel to stay at his bedside all night long, even though he knew he had to sleep, too. He often had nightmares, and cousin Bertram was often in them. He stood above the bed, his red eyes shining in the dark, his smile revealing his sharp teeth, as long as Berrykin Bloom's forearm, approaching his hands with long claw-like fingers to his cousin… Bloom couldn't do anything except staring at Bertram, too weak to cry, to flee, or simply to think. Sometimes, he woke up with a start when Bertram was about to devour him; sometimes, he was rescued by Berrykin Daniel's visit. Daniel did not slide like Bertram, his feet made a real, muffled, sane sound on the floorboard. He awoke him by softly calling him, then, taking his hand, he repeated him it was just a bad dream. At these moments, their roles were switched: Berrykin Bloom was the vulnerable one who needed reassurance, and he held on tight Daniel's hand, like if he was his life preserver that would prevent him from sinking into his nightmare again. But these moments only lasted a few minutes. Right after, Berrykin Bloom came to seriousness and, sitting up, asked Berrykin Daniel what brought him there. He was the master, and Daniel was the student again.

Once, Berrykin Bloom woke up, alone, quite disoriented because of the fever and its side effects. He was dizzy. Berrykin Daniel was not here. He slowly turned his head to check his alarm clock. The little hand was on the "2". He did not even know if it was day or night. Well, his room was so dark that it must be nighttime. It could also explain why he was so cold… However, there was a source of light (and… heat?) coming from the bottom of the room. A fire was burning in the fireplace. Berrykin Daniel had certainly lit it. What an attentive boy he was. Berrykin Bloom closed his eyes again, but he could still hear the fire purring and crackling. He thought he would be agreeable to lie down, just in front of the fireplace, swaddled in his blanket, to absorb all the heat. But before he had the time to convince himself to make a move, he realized it was not a good idea. An ember could roll until his blanket and set ablaze it. It would be best to stay in safety, in his bed. He opened his eyes and looked at the fireplace. The flames were proudly standing from the hearth, and they projected yellow, orange, red hues on the wall. It was beautiful. Then, Berrykin Bloom imagined the flames were like as many devils coming from the center of the Earth, and who jostled and wriggled to extract themselves from their tunnel which was directly linked with Hell, in order to invade his bedroom. He did not quite enjoy this idea who had scared him and he pulled his blanket over his head, hoping it would be enough for deceiving the monsters. It was so hard for him to have coherent thoughts. It may be because of his dizziness. Sensations overwhelmed him, by waves, and he only took them on. He was a pure sensation.

He coughed again, and his throat stabbed him. Every breathing was similar to a razor blow in his trachea. Maybe the marshmallow syrup would help. Berrykin Bloom drew the blankets off and turn in direction of his bedside table, were the different bottle were always displayed, and turn his light on. He was tempted to drink the syrup straight from the bottle, but he thought it would not be hygienic, and he decided to use the soup spoon, waiting next to the bottles. Uncorking the bottle of syrup and pouring its contents into the spoon was a hard exercise due to the shivers in his hand, but he thought he would collapse if he tried to stand up in order to execute this operation in the bathroom, above the washstand. In his fear to scatter some of the sticky liquid on his bedsheets, Berrykin Bloom hastened to swallow three not-so-full spoonfuls of syrup. Maybe he also enjoyed its sweet taste, after all. Its honeyed and smooth taste… so different of the apples he used to have for his lunch time. After that, his throat was a little bit better, as if the syrup had worked like an ointment to soothe its burns.

As he was recorking the bottle of syrup, Berrykin Bloom noticed a dark figure, out of the corner of his eye, next to his bed; and the cold sweat he felt in his back was not due to his fever. He slowly put it down on his bedside table, fearing the moment he would have to turn over.

-Not him, he thought, closing his eyes very hard. "I beg you on bended knees, Mother Earth, anything but not him. Be nice with me, Mother, I've always done my best to serve You. Do not send me Berrykin Bertram, please."

Berrykin Bloom turned the other side, toward the place he had seen the figure. He stayed a moment this way, motionless, his eyes closed, trying to noticed something, a jeer or a wheezing breath. Nothing. He opened his eyes.

As he had feared, Berrykin Bertram was staring at him.

But something had changed in his attitude. This time, he was not wearing his regular cruel smile he had shown for the past four years. On the contrary, he looked rather serene, almost… sympathetic. A witness would have though he was a taciturn carer (well, if he hadn't noticed Bertram was transparent and floating above the floor).

-I know what you feel, Bertram said. His voice was neither mocking, nor threatening.

This unexpected tenderness gave Berrykin Bloom some courage.

-Go away, he grumbled, something that made his cough and reawaked the pain in his throat.

-You are extremely lucky, cous'. Most people are afraid of death, simply because they don't know how it is and what happens next. But you won't have to be scared by your side, even though you've always been a wimp. You won't be scared because this time, I'll stay with you to show you the way…

Bertram displayed one of these smiles full of teeth he was particularly fond of.

-…Until your terminal breath.

-No! Berrykin Bloom cried, with a strength born of despair. "I don't want to!"

-Don't act like a spoiled child! Bertram cried, at his turn. He was losing his temper, too. "I give you the opportunity of being led from this world to the Other One, in order to not let you face this ordeal all alone, and you thank me this way?"

-I-won't-die, Berrykin Bloom retorted, gritting his teeth.

Was it a nightmare again? No, it wasn't, this time. Everything was so real. Berrykin Bloom could feel the heat of his blanket, the stiff sheet under his body, and Bertram's speech was too coherent for being dreamed.

Berrykin Bertram sat at Bloom's bedside.

-My dear cous', I was acting exactly the same way when I was in your place. The fever, the dry cough… At thirst, you think it's only a sore throat. Then, you feel weaker and weaker, and, when you cough, you find some drops of blood in your handkerchief. At least, when you cough, you don't feel like you are suffocating. And… do you already have the impression that an elephant is sitting on your chest? It can't be far off.

Berrykin Bloom was not feeling well at all. He felt his heart racing in his chest, and it worsened his dizziness. He opened his mouth, trying to breathe some fresh air in. His eyesight became blurred, so much so that Bertram's figure was almost impossible to distinguish in the darkness.

-There, there, cous'. It's alright. I'm with you, as Father asked me to.

Bertram's voice was the only thing that could reach Berrykin Bloom's mind. Everything else had vanished. Bertram's voice was everything, everything that convinced him he was still in his bed, and not wandering in the limbo. Maybe he was really living his last hour. Maybe his adventure on Earth was coming to an end, and Bertram's voice would be his guide during this ultimate trip.

No, Berrykin Bloom could not accept this idea. He still had so many things to do here below. If Berrykin Bertram had to bring him to the Hereafter, he would at least cling to every ounce on Life which was still beating in him.

-I-won't-die, he repeated, which a tiny, weak, stifled voice; an affirmation which was more supposed to convince him than Bertram.

-How obstinate you are! His cousin scolded, abruptly standing up. "Mister Bloom don't want to, so Mister Bloom never listen to anyone else! Let me tell you something: you really should have been given a good hiding more often as a child… But, of course, one could never say anything to poor baby orphan Bloom who was so desperate because he had lost his father!"

Something was strange with Bertram, Bloom noticed. He was only telling him that he had to die, but he was not behaving as if he was the one who would provoke his death.

Maybe he couldn't do so?

Maybe he was only trying to scare him, as he always did when they were young?

-Bertie, you shall respect my father's memory, he said, trying to sound severe.

-How funny! Bertram cried, who rather looked furious. "Bloom plays the pontificator!"

-If pontificating is reminding you to honor your duties, so, I'm proud of doing this, Bloom asserted.

Cousin Bert was losing his temper, and his assurance, too, Bloom could see it. His resistance had unsettled him.

-Duty? Bertram choked. "Let's talk about duty! You never knew what it is… Baby Bloom was sooo traumatized that he should never be faced with constraints! Me, I have to make myself, all alone. You, everything was served up to you on a tray!"

-You're lying! Bloom cried, taking offense. "Who decided to takes lessons at the Berry Big City to complete his apprenticeship? Me! Who had to walk three kilometers on foot each morning to go to classes? Me! Who had to build a full city from the void Strawberryland was, at the time? Me!"

He added the last sentence with a lower voice:

-Who had to live every day of his life with the idea that his father had sacrifice himself to save him, and that he had to be the best in order to prove it hadn't been vain? Me.

-Pull the other one! Bertram shouted. "I know this act by heart! Poor little orphan Bloom… Yeah, it's too easy to be an orphan, to be pitied by everyone and to be raised with much more clemency than that you deserve because you need to overcome your mourning!... Honestly?!"

Berrykin Bertram's anger had exploded during this last sentence; and he looked a bit discountenanced, as if he did not know what to add, now that his rage was vanishing. He caught his breath, and a new expression became known in his eyes. Sadness. Most of his threatening air had disappeared, and he was there, standing at his cousin's bedside, his chin lightly trembling, so understandable.

-Anyway, can one say you lost your father? He asked with a trembling voice. "You were just a baby! You have no memory of him! You don't know what it is to find yourself all alone. Me, I did! I know what it is to lose the one you love more than everything else!"

After this confession, Berrykin Bertram turn away from the bed, hiding his face behind his hands, as if he was hiding his tears. Berrykin Bloom, from his side, was no longer scared by his cousin at all. If he had culred in bed when his cousin's anger was the strongest, fearing to be given the "good hiding" Bertram was talking about, he only felt at this moment compassion for Bertram, who was not, finally, so different from him. Bloom could exactly tell which scene Bertram was referring to: the day his uncle had called them for the last time. They had both quietly kneeled down around his deathbed, Berrykin Bertram holding his father's right hand, Bloom holding his uncle's left one. They had just reached their majority. Then, the old Berrykin had exhorted them to overcome their past divisions and to work together for Berryvania's good**. "Promise me you will be like brothers, my sons", he had said, before breathing his last breath. Berrykin Bertram had cried during a whole week after that. But Bloom could not understand why he refused to believe that he had mourned him, too. His uncle was not his father, but he had been like a father to him. He had healed him, fed him, loved him, educated him.

-I've suffered of Uncle's death, too, like you, Bloom softly said.

Bertram turn toward him. If eyes were reddened by his tears, something that made him looking even more frightening.

-You? Suffering of Father's death? Do you really want me to trust that? Bertram cried. His anger was shooting back, stronger than ever; and, mixed with his grief, was turning into something that seemed to be a devastating strength.

Berrykin Bloom immediately regretted his words, which were aimed to sooth Bertram but had only managed to put him in a rage. He felt so insignificant, so frail, so vulnerable in face of Bertram's wrath, like a twig in a storm.

-No, Bertram added, fulminating. "The only person for whom you suffer is yourself, Bloom! You never had affection for Father! You only used him to climb the social ladder! You were certainly rubbing your hands when Father had been buried, no? While I was honestly weeping over him, you were only wondering when you would take his place! And when you understood I would not let you do that, you betrayed his last wish and you emigrated to Strawberryland to be in its ruler's good books! An utter hypocrite and arriviste, this is what you are, Bloom!"

In spite of the fear Bertram inspired him, Bloom could not let him distort this way the relationships he had with his uncle; and this unfairness gave him the bravery to retort:

-It's wrong! Bloom cried. "You, Bertram, you are so odious that I never would have been your workmate, even if I had been paid to do so! You said I destroyed Uncle's last request, but it had been destroyed by you even before he pronounced it! He had asked us to be like brothers, but you had never been a brother for me and you never considered me like your brother, but only like an intruder! What would I have been forced to endure if I had decided to stay with you? Repeated humiliations and physical abuses, like the ones you inflicted to me when Uncle was not looking?"

Bertram's anger had been replaced by the stupefaction of seeing his cousin standing up to him. This attitude reinforced Bloom's self-confidence: This time, he was the strongest, and he was determined to take advantage of the situation.

-What is virtue to you, cousin Bertie? He said with a self-assured voice. "Is it to disloyally crush the others until being the last one competing? Is it to be ready to do anything, just to vanquish? You proved me several times it is. So, I hope you won't mind if I decide that this kind of virtue does not suit me. And my first action to show it to you will be to stop being your punching bag!"

This time, it was neither anger nor surprise that could be seen in Bertram's features. No. This time, it was, and for the first time, fear in front of Berrykin Bloom. The latter, on the contrary, was beaming. A new strength was dawning in him.

-You no longer scare me, Cousin Bertram! He hurled with a swaggering air. "Go away! I no longer care about your opinions! I always did my best; but if I ever did mistakes, you're not well placed for reproaching me for them!"

Berrykin Bertram gave a last furious (or vexed?) look at Berrykin Bloom, as he was turning paler and paler; something that meant he was leaving. But, this time, Berrykin Bloom had chased him, and was triumphantly staring at him, to challenge him to torment him again. Bertram's features were less and less clear, as if he was shriveling up, as his he was devoured by the darkness. A few seconds later, and Berrykin Bloom's room was empty again.

It is impossible to be perfect, he thought. Whatever he would do, he would be praise from one side, and scolded from the other one. And how many divergent opinions he had heard in his youth! These three years during which Bertram had bullied him, mainly appearing when he was himself in the grip of doubt or anxiety, would at least teach him something: What he had done, the mistakes he had possibly made, would never be changed. They were part of his past, of his history; they had built the Berrykin he was today. It didn't mean they were good, but that he had to fully accept them, and - why not? - to take advantages of them. He could not be perfect, but the only thing he could promise was to do his best and to do what seemed fair and good to him. And, as long as his heart told him he was right, he would never let anyone else make him doubt of it.

An example was the twin princesses' birth. He had taken the time, once, to examine the royal bulb from which the twins were born***. It was deeply cracked in the middle, but not enough to be cut I two part. This wound dated back to the time he had sent the young Princess Berrykin in England… his life's biggest regret. He had kept her Bulb with him, in Cleveland; he thought it was imprudent to entrust a such important thing, responsible of the royal line's perpetuity, to a four-years-old little girl. Unfortunately, the Bulb had not stood the absence of its legitimate owner's magical waves; and had deteriorated. When the Princess Berrykin had plantd it, its two part had split into two different bulbs, which had turned into two different babies. What could one say about that? Some might say that a princess born from the half of a Bulb was unworthy to throne; some others would take into consideration the great imbalance of the sex ratio at the Berrykins and say that having two girls for the price of one should not be neglected. But it was too soon for thinking about that. The Princesses were too young to enter the world. The only judgment they ever had was their mother's one. Once she had recovered from her surprise, she had lovingly lean over the cradle and had said:

-Aren't they the most adorable little girls you put into the world, Berrykin Bloom? And this is all thanks to you!

Their mother loved them, their people accepted them; what more could anybody ask?

It was impossible to be perfect. One only had to be good enough.

Berrykin Bloom coughed again.

A few days later, Berrykin Bloom was entirely cured and ready to resume his work. When he opened his door, a lukewarm breeze ruffled his face. The dew was shining on the strawberries patch, and the sun was rising in the pink sky, ready to enlighten a brand-new day. Everything was alright. And, to signify his Mother Earth he was back, Berrykin Bloom found some relevant verses:

-To humbler functions, awful Power! I call thee: I myself commend Unto thy guidance from this hour; Oh, let my weakness have an end! He muttered****.

And, walking cheerfully, he joined Berrykin Daniel at the heart of the orchards.

To be continued…

*William Wordsworth, Poems in Two Volumes, "I wandered lonely as a cloud", 1807.

**More information in the 35th chapter.

***More information in the 4th chapter.

****William Wordsworth, Poems in Two Volumes, "Ode to duty", 1807.