The Fourteenth Chapter

Now that Mikkel knew more about the fairies, more than he would have liked to know, he began to set forth trying to create another. He had learned how they came into existence when he returned to the island for a week in spring, and really, it had been an accident.

Lukas was sitting next to him in his laboratory, and he was wearing the little suit he'd had made for him and his hair was combed back. "How do you suppose we do this?" The fairy asked. Mikkel patted his head, took out a syringe, and tied a belt around his bicep. He felt for a vein, then made a mark on it with a pen. "I am going to remove a syringe full of blood, then we will take a little amount from you. I have no syringe your size, so if—"

"I can use a knife. Do not doubt me, I am just as eager as you to see the results."

Mikkel slid the needle into his arm, took his blood, and pushed it out into the flower pot. The blood gathered on the top at first, then sunk into the soil. Lukas took a small pocket knife, cut open his arm, and let the blood drip out into the pot as well. When he felt that he'd given enough, he extended his arm to Mikkel, who wrapped it tightly.

"How long must we wait?"

"Be patient, Lukas. It will grow eventually."

Lukas took a seat in a little chair, crossed his legs, and sighed. "I would like a boy."

"Perhaps it doesn't work at all. We will see."

The fairy walked over to the packet of seeds and read the label. There was a chart that stated when the flowers would grow, and when Lukas realized that it would take months, he groaned and rested his forehead on the flowerpot. "Mikkel, what will we do if it does not work? Will we try this again or will we give up?"

The man picked the pot up, put it in the window, and sat down at the table again. "We will try again. But I hope you are not discouraged! We have to keep a positive attitude!"

Mikkel's positive attitude lasted him till there were green sprouts popping out of the soil. The fairy had woken him up that morning with an excited shout and forced him to open up the lab because he'd seen the sprout in the window while he was out for a fly. The man looked at the beginning of the flower, examined it with a microscope, and nodded.

"I want you to look through the glass and tell me what you see."

Lukas did as Mikkel asked. The plant was light green, white at the base, and flimsy. There were thin veins. Some were dark green, others were red, and a larger one that ran down the center and likely down through the roots was soft blue. When Mikkel set the microscope back on the table, Lukas tenderly stroked the sprout, whispering to it things that the man couldn't hear.

There were a few days in the next weeks that were cold and cloudy, and Mikkel had to use an electrical light to maintain flower growth. Lukas was especially kind to the plant on those days, and he would spend half an hour singing to it. Of course, the man recorded this action in his journal.

He had his concerns about whether or not the flower would produce a fairy, but he didn't express them to Lukas. He could tell how invested the fairy was to that flower, and if it were to not turn out as they had expected, he wasn't sure how Lukas could cope. Hopefully, he would be understanding.

A few days later, Mikkel looked into his laboratory, as he had to check on the flower, and he saw Lukas sitting down on top of a handkerchief in the flower pot. There was another handkerchief around the base of the flower, supposedly keeping it warm, and a dull but sweet lullaby rang through the air. The man watched him, grinning the entire time and deciding that the flower was already under a watchful eye.

By the time the flower had a bud, Lukas was sick with a cold and couldn't make it to the laboratory for a few days. Mikkel wouldn't allow it, as he had no idea how a sickness could alter the flower if it could do so at all.

He spent some time with the flower, watching it, moving it from light to shade, and watering it. It began to look wilted on the third day that Lukas was sick, and when Mikkel noticed, he contacted a horticologist at the university, begging him for answers, and he said that he hadn't a clue what was wrong if it was getting the proper amount of sunlight and water.

Mikkel sat down in front of the flower, turned it in his hand, and sighed softly. "Lukas does not want you to die, you know," he whispered, "but he is ill. I cannot sing as well as he can, but if you would like me to try."

The man started humming, too embarrassed to sing, and looked around to make sure that the door was shut and nobody could hear him. Once that was sure, he sang softly to the flower, a lullaby that he'd heard the fairy sing many times before. The flower didn't change, but Mikkel continued to sing for an hour until he thought he'd fall asleep at the window.

The days before the flower opened were hectic. Mikkel got a fresh journal, a new tin of coloured pencils, and was already sketching out the flower. He had prepared a lesson to teach the fairy English, made them a little bed, and was looking through the notes he had made about Lukas when he had been found.

When the day came that the flower blossomed, Lukas was singing beautifully everywhere he went and wouldn't stop until Mikkel took him into the laboratory so that they could find the fairy. To both of their surprise, the flower blossom was small. Smaller than expected. It might have been the size of the man's thumb. Lukas frowned once he realized, and was hesitant to approach the pot.

"Would you like it if I checked the flower?"

The fairy shook his head and settled down into the soil, watching the soft petals bounce from the draft. He took one step closer, then his eyes were teary and he looked like he might weep. "The flower is empty."

The man frowned, walked over, and patted Lukas on the back softly. When Lukas began crying, he had no idea how to handle such sadness. "I suppose we have a flower, yes?" He offered. Lukas wiped his tears and shook his head, turning away from the man. Mikkel understood his pain and turned away towards the flower pot. He hadn't yet seen the blossom closely.

It was a beautiful, delicate blossom. He put his fingers on the edge, pet a petal, and looked inside of it. His eyebrows furrowed slightly and he brought the plant closer. He stood up quickly, grabbed his tools out of the cabinet, and shined a light into the flower. There was a thick layer of pollen at the bottom, but it was too much. The flower shouldn't have produced as much as it was.

"What is it, Mikkel?"

The man didn't answer. He took a small brush, dusted off the pollen, and heard a squeak. He drew the brush back, looked inside again, and saw something very small and very displeased. He tilted the flower back gently, and a small fairy rolled out onto his hand. The minute it touched his flesh, it cried.

"Mikkel, what is that? Why does the fairy look like that? He is small! He is absolutely tiny! And his head is disproportionate. Oh, we have created something different, haven't we? We have ruined everything."

The man laughed and wrapped the new fairy in a handkerchief, although that was too big for it. "No, it is just a baby fairy. It will look just like you do, I am sure. I—"

Mikkel was examining the pollen covered creature as gently as he possibly could, and from what he could see, the fairy had no wings. Lukas must have noticed, too, because he was over quickly and running his hands down the child's back. "He is such a lovely creature. You aren't being gentle enough with him, let me have him."

The man held the fairy out to Lukas, who took him and cradled him. He sang to him sweetly, and his crying stopped. Mikkel scribbled in his journal, then lightly patted Lukas' back. He must have been incredibly pleased, because he was smiling from ear to ear and swaying back and forth with the child.

"Now you have a brother as well, Lukas."

"But he is also your brother. It was your blood, too."

The man kissed his index finger, pressed it very carefully to the baby's chest, and said, "You know, this is very good, but I have realized something."

"What is it?"

Mikkel stood up, took both fairies in his hand, and started to take them upstairs. "Now that there is a child around to cry, we will have to tell the maid that she isn't just hearing the wind outside."

Not quite the end . . .