Chapter Six - Pixie Problems

In a few minutes, Molly and Sherlock stood staring at the dark forest in front of them. It was intimidating. Suddenly Molly felt rather unsure of herself. What was she thinking? This was serious. All her life she had been told about the dangers of The Deep. People who went into The Deep rarely returned. Those who did return were changed, a shadow of whom they were before. It was said The Deep was harder on women than men. Men came out, silent, moody and unwilling to share their experiences. Women came out stark raving mad.

She glanced sideways at her companion. Had he changed during his crossing of The Deep on his way to fetch her? He was certainly silent and moody at the moment. How would he change during this return journey?

"What is it like?" she whispered. "The Deep?"

Sherlock looked over and down at his companion, shook his head and rumbled: "I don't know, I went around it when I left Holmes."

"Oh," Molly said in surprise. "I just assumed you crossed The Deep. You said Holmes was on the other side of the forest."

"It is. I went around because I was searching for an herbalist. I've been away from Holmes for over a year. Good herbalists are difficult to find. Most are charlatans and some are even faeries in disguise. I have had a most frustrating journey," Sherlock replied.

"Perhaps we should return to your village the same way?" Molly asked. She didn't relish traveling with this man for over a year, but it might be the wisest choice. She eyed the forest with trepidation.

Sherlock snorted. "Holmes is not a village! It is a kingdom! We have a castle with a moat and everything," he stated with thick sarcasm. "Do you really wish to fight off every man you come across for a whole year? You are good with that staff, but it won't be enough, even with my help. I won't be able to watch your back constantly. I do sleep occasionally. Besides I've been away from Holmes too long already. Crossing The Deep will cut our time considerably."

"Well, at least we won't meet any people in there." Molly reluctantly agreed. "Perhaps it is the best way."

"Oh, I wouldn't go so far as to say there are no people," Sherlock drawled. "There are lots of people in The Deep. I'm just not sure how human they are."

He cocked his head to the side as he stared down at her. For no reason, Molly felt her cheeks redden in a blush. She forced herself to think of the task at hand.

"Then you don't know what we are about to face either." she said glumly.

Suddenly Sherlock's face lightened into a grin.

"We are embarking on an adventure of a lifetime Molly Hooper!" he announced. "There will be danger, surprises and mayhem galore! Chin up. The game is on!" With that, he squared his shoulders and plunged into The Deep. Molly trailing reluctantly behind.

- ɸ -

The Deep was every bit as strange as Molly had thought it would be. Yet surprisingly, after a few minutes, she wasn't afraid. Sherlock shoved through briars and brush as if he owned the place. His steady pace seeming to say that the terrors of The Deep might be very real, but they had best beware of Sherlock of Holmes. The man was a tornado in progress. The spring in his step indicated his eagerness to face any challenge The Deep had to offer. She suspected she was suffering from sensory overload. There was only so much fear her mind could process and his enthusiasm was catching. She began to relax and even enjoy herself a little. As her companion stalked ahead, Molly began to feel confident that together they could face what ever came their way. She wasn't sure why this man made her feel so optimistic, but she was strangely content in his company.

- ɸ -

it was cold. Molly shivered. Sherlock waited impatiently as she unwrapped her blanket pack and shoved her spare clothing rather haphazardly on top of her already full basket. Tying the ends of the blanket to form a makeshift cloak, she picked up her basket and staff and nodded to Sherlock. Without speaking he pushed his way deeper into the forest. Molly held the blanket closed with the hand that held her basket. Holding her staff as a walking stick in the other, she struggled to keep up with Sherlock's long strides. Soon the trees were so thick that what was a sunny day outside became a grey dimly lighted gloom within The Deep. Even the leaves of the towering trees overhead seemed to quiver in grayness. The increasing darkness made the forest floor dim and otherworldly. Here and there a shaft of sunlight filtered down and made a feeble attempt to lighten their way, palely shinning down in narrow strips of light.

Several hours later found them walking though ever increasing thickness of trees. Now the underbrush thinned until it disappeared altogether. Under the massive branches of the ancient trees Molly could hear the sighing of the wind as it moved through the treetops. It was an eerie unsettling sound. Bringing thoughts of graveyards at midnight and lonely caverns. Molly thought she could almost hear voices whispering. It was the only sound. No birdsongs, no insects, no animals; only the wind and the creaking branches.

At midday, they stopped to rest beside a stream so small it could hardly warrant being called a brook. Molly lay her things on the leaf-covered ground and thankfully sat upon a fallen tree trunk. Sherlock fumbled with his pack a bit and produced more bread and cheese. He collected water from the stream and soon had a small fire going and the pan of water heating for tea.

Molly watched him as he preformed the small duties. He was quite used to living in the rough she decided. Despite the posh and strange looking cloak covering his fine green tunic and brown trousers he was at ease performing the necessary chores required to survive in the wilderness.

- ɸ -

They stumbled across a faint trail soon after lunch. Sherlock mumbled to himself as he poked the path with his staff several times. She heard the words trap and trick and danger before he evidently decided it was safe enough to use. The path made their journey much easier. Their travel became swift in comparison to their previous progress. Every few minutes they would come to a point where the path would divide into two paths. Sherlock would pause, consult an instrument he pulled from his coat he called a compass, and depending on its readings would choose either the left or right path. After about three hours Sherlock suddenly stopped and stared with a frown at the ground before him.

"What's wrong?" Molly asked as she came around the corner to find Sherlock kneeling on the path.

Sherlock gave a snort of disgust and pointed to two pair of faint footprints in the trail. Molly looked closer. "Those are our prints!" She exclaimed.

Sherlock nodded, "It appears we have been traveling in a circle."

"But you checked each path change with that strange device!"

"Yes," Sherlock agreed. "Evidently my compass does not work correctly in this area, or more likely, we have purposely been mislead." He stood up quickly and began to search the tree line along the path with his eyes.

"You can come out now," he announced to no one Molly could see. "Your game is up. You have won fair."

A soft tittering could be heard and to Molly's surprise Three tiny people dressed in forest browns and greens appeared from behind trees snickering behind their hands. The tallest little fellow barely came up to Molly's knee. The other two were somewhat shorter, the smallest was female. All three were slim and very quick on their feet. The tallest fellow sidled up to Sherlock who was now sitting on a fallen tree and hopped up beside him.

"Fair you well, wizard." he said. "I am called Aacrum. He pointed to the other man. "This is Pyrus." He grunted as he helped pull his companion up on the fallen log beside him.

"And your lady friend?" Sherlock asked as he watched the small female standing beside Molly.

"Oh...her," Aacrum dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Just a female, you may call her Twiggy."

Twiggy frowned at the men which now apparently included Sherlock and made a rude noise and stuck out her tongue. She turned to Molly and smiled. "What is your name fair one and how to you happen to be traveling The Deep in the company of a wizard?"

" Hello Twiggy, my name is Molly." Molly said a little bemused. "And he's not a wizard. His name is Sherlock of Holmes."

Sherlock frowned heavily at Molly and sighed. Molly got the distinct impression that he wished she had kept quiet about their names. Molly lifted her chin. She was not going to let Sherlock make her feel bad. What was wrong about exchanging names with these little people? They seemed harmless enough. She glared defiantly at Sherlock who only sighed and shook his head wearily.

Aacum beamed. "You have graced us with your names! You must join us this eve in our festivities! You will be our most honored guests. Say you will come?

"Yes of course we will." Molly assured the little man. She glanced at Sherlock who was staring at the ground. "We'd be delighted, wouldn't we Sherlock?" Molly insisted. Sherlock frowned but nodded his head reluctantly. At the assent of both humans the little folk gathered excitedly a few feet away and began to chatter amongst themselves, planning the evenings event. Molly took the opportunity to sit on the log beside Sherlock.

"What's wrong?" Molly said in a curious voice. "You seem upset with me. Don't you like these small folk? I find them rather endearing." Molly looked at Sherlock who continued to frown.

"Pixies," Sherlock growled. "They are pixies!" Seeing Molly's blank look, he sighed and continued. "Pixies are small beings who are very mischievous creatures. They delight in trickery and games. They are the ones responsible for our path going in a circle. By telling them our names you have given them power over us for a day and a night. We will have to do everything they ask of us during that time." Sherlock sighed again.

"Oh my!" Molly breathed. She looked in aghast at Sherlock. "We must to anything they ask?"

"Yes." Sherlock answered. " Pixies have great imaginations. We must be on our guard. They will try to trick us into staying with them. People have been known to return from what they thought was a short visit with the pixies to discover years have passed. We must be wary or the same will happen to us."

"Oh my!" Molly repeated. "Sherlock, I am so sorry. I had no idea just telling them our names could cause such a problem!"

"Next time let me handle things. You are much too trusting, Molly Hooper."

Molly opened her mouth to argue then shut it. He was right. He didn't have to be so disagreeable about it, but he was right. She was too naive.

"What is done is done," Sherlock continued to grumble. "We can only hope this lot is more dull than their cousins in Cornwall."

Molly turned to watch the pixies who were still huddled together talking excitedly. At one point, Pyrus stood up, stared at Sherlock for a moment, then hunched back down and chattered rapidly to his two companions. Obviously, he was talking about them. Molly could only hope that it was something friendly. Now that Sherlock had identified them as pixies, Molly could detect a slight wildness in their manner.

At that moment the pixies broke their huddle and turned to face them. Pyrus placed two fingers in his mouth and produced a whistle like sound that was eerily sweet. Soon a thundering gallop could be heard coming down the path and a beautiful red hind came to a halt before them. The animal ignored Sherlock and Molly as it knelt before the three little folk. The pixies clambered on her back and the hind stood back up waiting patiently.

"Follow us!" Aacrum shouted as he nudged the hind with his heels and it was off down the path in a gallop, the riders shouting at the tops of their tiny voices urging the deer to go faster. Soon their voices could be heard coming up behind them and as the hind rushed madly past them Aacrum could be heard yelling insults to Sherlock and Molly about their slow progress.

"How did they do that?" Molly wondered aloud. "First they were in front of us and now they pass us?"

Sherlock merely snorted and said. "Pixies are natural show offs! Obviously, they are changing the path again."

"I mean exactly how are they changing the path?" Molly clarified.

"With magic, of course!"

"Oh my!" Molly was horrified, "Magic! Sherlock we must escape before their dark spells capture us forever!" Molly turned to run the opposite direction, but found that her feet refused to take a single step.

"Do calm down, Molly, not all magic is dark. Pixie magic is troublesome, but is easily outmaneuvered with a little wit and intelligence. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the darkest magic, pixie magic rates a two, or at most a three. Yes, we are trapped into doing their will for a day and night, but you gave them the power. Power given thus is always weaker than if one is overpowered against one's will. We could have avoided all this had you known not to be so free about introducing us, but stay calm, we will be on our way tomorrow morning if you follow my lead." Sherlock said all this in his most arrogant voice, but Molly decided she was not going to be offended. He was only stating the facts.

Somewhere up ahead came sounds of crashing and thrashing. Over the pained shrilling call of an injured animal, tiny voices could be heard screaming in agony. Sherlock and Molly looked at one another and broke out into a run. As they rounded the corner, they could see the hind was down, her legs wrapped in netting. Aacrum was still clinging to the deer's back, but Pyrus and Twiggy were lying on the path. There was a large bloody gash on Pyrus's face and Twiggy sat up and began to rub a rapidly swelling ankle. Sherlock set about carefully pulling the netting that was a tangled mess about the hinds legs as Molly quickly applied pressure to the cut on Pyrus's face. It was deep but she soon had it under control. Applying a soothing salve to the cut she bound the injury with clean rags from her basket. Next, she moved to Twiggy, but the small woman begged her to care for the deer first.

"Here rub this salve on your ankle," Molly instructed.

"I can wait, check her first. Twiggy pointed to the injured deer.." Molly reluctantly obeyed Twiggy's request and moved to kneel beside the now net free animal.

"I fear she has been rather severely injured. She made need to be put down." Sherlock told Molly quietly.

"Not on my watch!" Molly growled. "Who would do such a terrible thing to a harmless deer?"

"It was a faerie trap, my Lady. Faeries are mortal enemies of Pixies. They will do anything to hurt us," Twiggy said angrily.

"What do you intend to do Molly? This poor animal is in agony. Don't you think it would be better to put it out of misery quickly rather than leave it suffer?" Sherlock asked.

"Be quiet," Molly ordered. She approached the hind and knelt by it's head and gently began to stroke its muzzle.

Sherlock sat back on his heels and watched as Molly gently rubbed the hind's muzzle and talked in low reassuring words. The animal accepted Molly's touch and allowed her to run her hands over its body as she searched for injuries. As her hands moved, Molly began to quietly hum a tune. After a bit, words replaced the hum as Molly continued to move her hands over the deer's body. The tune was high and hauntingly beautiful.

Soft as a willow wisp.

Calm as a quiet stream,

Heal all injuries found

Till they fade as in a dream.

Strengthen heart and soul.

Blood flow swift and true.

Internal organs do your work

Together all things renew.

Joints be supple, legs be swift.

Proudly hold the body sure.

Head be noble, brain be bright

Restore all functions in the cure.

The hind struggled to it's feet and stood nuzzling Molly in thanks. Molly pulled her hands away and tiredly sat back. No one said anything for a time. Finally Aacrum whispered. "You have the gift! My lady, I am speechless!"

Aacrum sank to his knees before Molly and placed his head on the ground before her. Twiggy and Pyrus following suit. Even Sherlock's eyes were startled.

"Who are you, Molly Hooper?" He whispered as he gazed into her tired eyes..

"Just me, Sherlock. No different than I was an hour past," Molly answered tiredly. Molly lay back on the forest path and fell into a deep sleep.

"We can't stay here, Lord Sherlock." Aacrum said urgently. The faeries may return any moment.

Sherlock nodded. He glanced at the unconscious Molly sleeping peacefully on the ground. "I'll need your help he said as he began to pull rope from his pack. Soon they were ready. Sherlock and the pixies had rigged up a way to tie all of Molly's and Sherlock's belongings to the back of the now completely healed hind. Making sure their quarterstaffs hung on the right side of the deer and were easily accessible if needed, Sherlock tied his blue scarf around Molly's face and neck. The pixies tugged her long gloves onto her hand and arms. They were ready.

"We must hurry," Aacrum urged. "With faeries about we need to get home before dark."

Sherlock nodded and helped the pixies up onto the back of the hind. He leaned down and scooped up a still sleeping Molly in his strong arms. She was such a little thing, hardly any weight at all. "I'm ready," he told Aacrum.

Together the small group headed down the path to the home of the pixies. Sherlock was not sure what would happen when they got there, but he was sure of one thing; Molly Hooper was a very surprising young woman. Something inside him wanted rather badly to understand who and what she was.

The sun hung low over the tree tops casting long shadows behind them as the small group of new found friends headed to home and safety.