The Terrible Idea (Short Story rewrite)

Happy Halloween, everyone!

I first posted the story here back in 2017, now three years ago. It was very short, and the characters were still growing at that time. I didn't know that much about them, but now...

(2016/2017 version of Gletta)

Gletta went from being like Tauriel from The Hobbit to being a very Goth elf (she wears black armor that is really sharp, black eyeliner and lipstick, and has nose and lip piercings) with some elements of Tauriel remaining,

(2019/2020 version of her)

(Another drawing of the 2019/2020 version of her, though her face should be less thin) 

This is interesting because I don't know of any elves who are really Goth in Fantasy. As it turns out in my story, there is a sub-culture of Goth elves, which Gletta is a part of. She also became someone you probably wouldn't want to get into fight with (physical fight, not verbal fight)...at all, you would probably leave with a broken nose and possibly broken ribs.

(here is a progression shot of it) 

I am currently working on the personality of Mr. Short. At the moment, he is still very similar to Bilbo Baggins in terms of personality. So, I am still working on making his inner and outer character unique.

(2016/2017 version of him)

  As for Tirfendiel, he was never really like Thranduil by any means. He resembled Pippin more in terms of personality and is very clumsy for an elf. (Gletta also has come up with the theory that Tirfendiel is not an elf, but a very tall Halfling who lost the hair on his feet.) In the picture above I, for some reason, decided to make him look almost identical to Legolas. 

(2019/2020 version of him) 

 Tirfendiel now has black hair instead of blonde like his sister, but that was a smaller outer appearance change compared to Gletta. Also unlike the elves in Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit who have perfect hair, Tirfendiel usually has very messed up hair, which has leaves tangled in it. He repeatedly reminds Mr. Short that it is a myth that elves have perfect hair, and he doesn't know where Mr. Short came up with the idea.

I should say that before I began the story I took a little inspiration from this short film when rewriting "The Terrible Idea." And I also tried to add more aspects of Nordic culture into it, even if the characters themselves are not Norse but are from a Fantasy world with Nordic and Tolkien elements.

Shall we Begin the story?:

                                  The Terrible Idea 

Tirfendiel opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and stared upwards. There was nothing as far as his eye could see, only darkness, black engulfing darkness. He let out a long sigh and reached down for his sword. Finding it in the darkness was rather difficult. He touched the hard stone ground a few times before actually getting ahold of it. As he gently pulled it out, green light emerged. 

He groaned, Great! There must be some beast still around waiting to kill him in the midsts of the darkness. That's absolutely wonderful, he thought, and pulled his sword fully out. 

The green light shone around the carven, all he could see from the light of his sword were rocks. There were rocks of many different assortments, but even so rocks, no monsters, thankfully. That still didn’t explain why his sword was glowing, if there were no monsters around…strange, something must have happened to it, but what? He had never known there to be a time when swords glowed when no monsters were around, so then, it had to be that there still were…monsters. He looked around, and gulped he hoped none of them wanted to eat him. If they did he would, would…stab them! That was what he would do! Thump! 

Tirfendiel gulped and looked around. “W-who g-goes t-there?” he asked, his voice coming out more shaky than it meant to. “S-show y-yourself.” 

He realized after having said that, that telling someone in a dark cave to show themselves was very difficult if they didn’t have a torch. He hoped there would be a way to know who it was, without having something sneak up behind him. He had heard stories about creatures sneaking up on people in the dark, most of them ended quite horribly and in death. He clenched his hands more tightly around his sword and looked around in its dim light, hoping whatever it was would answer. 

“S-show y-your s-self, I-I…” he whimpered, “command you!” 

There came another thump within the darkness. 

“You know that logic only works if the person who you are commanding to show themselves has an torch or a sword—“ began a voice, which sounded surprisingly familiar. Tirfendiel walked hesitantly towards where the voice had come from...and slowly raised his sword, it was Gletta. Her long braided blonde hair hung over her shoulders, but it was tinted slightly by the green light of his sword. She was wearing her battered and spiky armor. 

“That’s really bright.” she muttered, putting her armored hand over her eyes. 

Tirfendiel let out a long sigh of relief, and moved his sword away.  “Thank goodness it’s you, and not some goblin or troll lurking in these caverns!” he said, still looking around and shining his light in any crook or cranny he could find. And then turning back to Gletta with his sword in hand, “for there might be one, perhaps, even behind you or me.” 

Gletta looked around. She walked around the small chamber as best as she could, tripping a few times here and there. As far as she could tell, there were no goblins in it, let alone rock giants or any cave dwelling creature you could imagine, perhaps a few very faint glow worms or two, but no goblins. 

“Tirfendiel.” she said. 

“Y-yes?” he said, clumsily dropping his sword on the ground with a loud thump. The sword flickered slightly but continued to glowed even brighter. He picked it back up and grasped onto it even more tightly than he had before. 

“Do you think…” she began, “..that something happened to your sword?” 

Tirfendiel looked over at her, something couldn’t be wrong with his sword, could it? He looked down at the sword, and it was still glowing uncomfortably, so perhaps there could be something wrong with it. But what exactly? He shook the sword, hoping that it would stop glowing but nothing happened...

 

“Tirfendiel! You are going to poke someone’s eye out if you shake your sword around like that!” said Gletta. 

Tirfendiel groaned and lowered the sword, “but you're the one who wears incredibly spiky armor, not me! So why do you critique my waving my sword around—“ 

“I don’t throw my armor around, that is why I am critiquing you.” she replied, and then looked around in the darkness, “anyway, at this point, I’ve decided your sword is broken.” She ran her fingers through her braided hair, which hung about her in a stiff manner. 

“How, do you know it’s broken?” he asked. 

“I know because I haven’t seen any goblins here, and besides this part of the cave is too small for any such gob—“ she began, but before she could even continue she heard screaming from deep inside the cave it echoed around, and seemed to be coming from every direction. 

“And how is that not a goblin?” asked Tirfendiel, hoping that it was, so he would have a chance to use his sword in a way that wasn’t merely a torch. 

Gletta groaned, “…it sounds more like a Halfing, a goblin’s cry would make your blood curdle….” She picked up her bow, and walked into the darkness towards the cry. She stood there for a moment and then looked over at Tirfendiel, who was standing there almost like a statue, not moving and not even making a sound. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” she asked. 

“I would rather…stay here.”

 

“That’s not an excuse!” 

“Gletta! I have a strong desire to stay here.” 

“To be a coward?” 

“No— No, I’m not trying to be a coward, I just…would rather stay here…thank you very much.” 

“But you said you wanted to chase after a goblin!” 

“I changed my mind.” 

Gletta groaned, there was no use trying to argue with him, she had to go alone then, “but at least give me your sword.” 

Tirfendiel’s eyes widened as if in fear. He had a strong desire not to hand his sword over to his sister, but he decided to, and then quickly followed her, “…I sort of changed my mind again.” 

Gletta sighed, and grabbed onto her brother’s hand as they both walked deeper into the cave. While Tirfendiel muttered under his breath that if it was a goblin he would be very much prepared, Gletta cautiously investigated holding the sword in front of her, and the light soon fell upon a small figure huddled in a corner, who was whimpering rather loudly. She walked over to the figure, handing Tirfendiel the sword. She kneeled down to the figure’s height, and could see through the green light that the figure was not a goblin. Unlike what her brother ever so fearfully imagined, it was in fact a very lost Halfing.

 

“Mr. Short?” she asked, leaning closer to him. 

He looked up at her and into the green light, “If this is some spirit coming to taunt me—“ 

“If it was, I’m sure the spirit would taunt you with more than merely green light coming from my broken sword.” replied Tirfendiel, who moved the sword around in various ways, casting shadows on the rocks around them. This was meant to prove to Mr. Short that the light was coming from his sword, however he wasn’t sure how much of it Mr. Short actually understood. Mr. Short covered his face as the light seemed a little too bright for him, he glanced up at Tirfendiel and then at Gletta, “you could still easily be spirits—“ 

“Tirfendiel, do something else with your sword, you really aren’t helping—“ Gletta moved his hand down so the sword lit their faces in a much less blinding way. “See? We aren’t spirits, I'm Gletta and this is Tirfendiel, who should really learn how to control his sword.” Gletta than crossed her arms and stared down at the ground, hoping that Mr. Short would realize who they were and perhaps stop worrying about being taunted by spirits. 

Mr. Short looked at them, studied them for a moment, and then slowly ever so slowly stood up. He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank the gods, it is you!” he shouted, and then ran over to Gletta and tried to hug her. His attempt failed most miserably as her armor got in the way. He stood back, luckily only his one pinky finger had been wounded from touching the armor. 

Gletta let out a frustrated sigh and then turned to Tirfendiel, “Well, we found the halfling—“ 

“Who you nearly killed with your armor.” he replied. 

“I didn’t nearly kill him, he has to learn to control himself and not rush headlong into an elf wearing armor.” she replied. 

“If, he ever tries that again and gets killed, I'd hate to write the letter home, ‘Dear Mother and Father, Gletta accidentally killed the halfling with her own armor—‘“ 

“You do know I can hear you, don’t you?” asked the voice of a very worried Mr. Short. Gletta looked over and groaned, Tirfendiel looked over at Gletta they shared a look of deep concern.

 

“I can't believe you made me say that out loud. That is going to deter him from the quest.” she muttered.

“I didn’t—“ began Tirfendiel, but his protests were not noticed as Gletta and Mr. Short talked. Their voices echoed across the cavern and Tirfendiel was left alone holding his sword trying not to shake it. He hadn’t meant to cause trouble, and he certainly had not meant to bring everyone down to that cavern to begin with. He had hoped to figure out what was controlling the weird behavior of the goblins, who were usually not hostile and left other creatures alone. Now they were violent, and it didn’t make sense. His plan had not worked and had almost gotten everyone killed. The idea had seemed better in his head than the reality, because if he hadn’t acted on it, they wouldn’t be in the cave to begin with. But on the other hand what would have happened if he had not led them into the cave? He wasn’t sure. He fingered a strand of his black hair, and looked over at Gletta and Mr. Short, perhaps he could prove that his ideas could work after all. He had plenty of ideas for how to get out of here, most of them he was sure would work. Gletta and Mr. Short seemed to be deep in conversation, but he didn’t mind interrupting them. They were probably talking about something boring like the polite way to eat at the table, or why he shouldn’t have come on the adventure to begin with. After all, Gletta had taken a liking the halfling, he had not however… 

“This sword…” she said, lifting up her own sword, which had a spiky scabbard for its protection. Gletta said it was to fend off monsters from taking it, but really it was used so Tirfendiel didn’t try to steal her sword as he did when he was younger “…was used in a battle long ago to fend off—“ 

“I have an idea!” Tirfendiel interrupted, seeming to have missed what Gletta and Mr. Short were even talking about. 

Gletta and Mr. Short looked over at Tirfendiel. The look on their faces wasn’t a very good one, it was a cross between a warrior about to rush into battle and an annoyed sibling. 

“Yes?” asked Gletta, pulling herself together, deciding that it was probably better to listen to Tirfendiel, even if it was his idea that got them here to begin with. 

“Well…” said Tirfendiel, “…You know Ariel always contacts spirts when we are in a time of need?” 

“Yes.” nodded Gletta, hoping that this would go somewhere and not verge into trying to find Ariel who at the moment was missing, and have them begin calling her name to an intolerable extent. 

“I was thinking…” said Tirfendiel, “…there are actually some bones lying around the cavern, which you both seemed to not notice.” He beamed a little at being the only one who noticed them. He was the only one who felt pride at seeing the bones lying around in the cavern, everyone else looked dismayed.

 

“So?” 

“So, if there are bones lying around there is sure to be a ghost…of sorts.” 

“But how big are the bones?” asked Mr. Short. 

However his question was heard as Tirfendiel interrupted, “So I thought, you know, Ariel does a seance every now and then, and I thought ‘why don’t we?’ do it alone and all…so, perhaps we could all try to contact whatever spirit may be lying around in this cavern…” 

“Lying around?” muttered Mr. Short. 

“Or floating around, whatever spirits do for fun.” said Tirfendiel, who had decided that some spirits probably jousted for fun, or did some sort of sport-like tournament. “Shall we do it?” 

Gletta and Mr. Short were silent, they didn’t speak a word, which caused Tirfendiel to let out a frustrated groan, “Shall we do it?” 

“Yes, YES!” exclaimed Gletta. 

“Good.” muttered Tirfendiel. He slowly and dramatically sat down on the ground and held his hands out for Gletta and Mr. Short to hold. Gletta and Mr. Short, who had been very upset that their conversation had been interrupted, and were now even more upset that they had to perform a seance without the assistance of their beloved Ariel, grabbed onto Tirfendiel’s hands. Both Mr. Short and Gletta held hands. Tirfendiel closed his eyes and muttered words that Ariel had said many times before with a few adjustments, “I suggest you don’t leave the circle, I don’t know why exactly that is a rule, but the circle is protected because we are all holding hands, so I suppose something bad will befall you if you leave…” 

“I know, I know…” muttered Gletta. 

“And if you sneeze, perhaps try grabbing Mr. Short’s pocket handkerchief with your foot, so you don’t leave the circle, and die…” 

“Ariel never said you would die—“ 

“—but she never got into the details…anyway, spirts, or spirit who dwells in this cavern, please come to us…come to us!” Tirfendiel paused. Did Ariel usually say anything else besides talking directly to the spirits? He couldn’t remember, but he continued headlong into it, “Spirit or spirits, we really need your help as we are really nice elves—“ 

“And halflings.” 

“Two elves and a halfling.” he added on, “and I suggest for members of this seance, do not speak unless you want to be dragged headlong by a spirit to your death—“ 

“I know Ariel never said that!” replied Gletta. 

“Gletta, do you really want to die? Anyway, spirits despite the other rather boisterous people around me, I am a safe person, so…speak through me!” 

The cavern was silent for a moment, there was nothing to be heard but the breathing of the members of the seance as they waited for something to happen. Then there came a soft sound of foot-steps, was it foot-steps? Tirfendiel wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed to be coming closer whatever it was. Hopping even closer, he felt a cold feeling around him, like a new energy had leapt onto his shoulder. He felt the touch of something against his hands and then whatever it was came towards his mouth. He felt energy go all along through his body, but this energy felt very hyper, and not like what he imagined most of the ghosts were like. 

He felt his mouth open this time against his will— “Humans, do you really wish to disturb my peace?” The voice echoed from inside Tirfendiel’s mouth. It sounded like a squirrel would sound, if it could speak in their tongue, 

“I’ve lived for so many years in this cavern, after one of your hunters chased me here.” 

“Tirfendiel is this a joke?” asked Gletta. She almost releasing her hand from the circle, but Mr. Short grabbed more tightly onto hers. He had taken Tirfendiel’s joking warning very seriously, perhaps a little too seriously, 

“And, I watch you now with bows running around and fighting in battles hoping to die in battle, die a glorious death! Well, it is not quite fair that we squirrels don’t get that. We are shot with no fight whatsoever, it is not so glorious, is it?” 

“Tirfendiel?” shouted Gletta. The figure, who appeared to be Tirfendiel looked over at her. His eyes were wider than usual and his nose was twitching more than usual.

 

“Oh, you mean that human? He’s still in here. Don’t worry, but you humans most know—“ 

“We aren’t humans!” exclaimed Gletta, “Me and my brother, who you are holding captive right now, are elves. I am an elf, and Mr. Short is a halfing.” 

“You all look like humans to me. As I was saying I was left without a glorious death, no fights, whatsoever, just a gloomy death. But, your brother requested assistance to get out of the cavern?” 

“Yes.” replied Gletta. 

“I have been stuck here, for years and years, and there is no way out. Food will run out for you soon enough—“ 

Mr. Short gulped, he hated those six words… 

“And then it will start getting dark and cold, you three warriors will meet a non-glorious death like me!” The energy that had been trapped in Tirfendiel’s body slowly began to move out, and he felt himself coming in control again. He blinked for a few moments and then looked over at Gletta and Mr. Short. He cleared his throat, and then cheerfully said, “How did that go?” 

Gletta and Mr. Short looked at one another, the answer was terrible. When Ariel had contacted spirits, they usually weren’t animals, and usually they didn’t talk about how they hadn’t met a glorious death. Usually the spirits offered words of wisdom to help them on their journey. But all the only information they had gotten was that they were likely to die alone in the cavern and soon would come to be with that angry squirrel spirit. This was not a comfortable thought. 

“Terrible.” said Mr. Short.

 

Gletta nodded her head, “I hate to agree, but yes, it was terrible.” 

“But why?” asked Tirfendiel. 

“Ariel thinks about it before she contacts some random spirit, and most of all she isn’t an amateur. She has been contacting spirits for years and years, and you…thought it might be fun to do five seconds ago—“ 

“Five minutes—“ 

“Whichever! I am sure that if Ariel was here, she could teach you how to do it correctly!” There was a silence, no one in the group had any desire to talk about Ariel. They didn’t know what happened to her, or if she was alright. Gletta, feeling guilty, sighed and looked over at Tirfendiel, “Sorry.”

“Well, since that idea didn’t work...” said Tirfendiel, awkwardly trying to make the situation better. It didn’t help much. Gletta looked down at the floor, and Mr. Short looked in the other direction, “I have a second idea, we could contact the god of war, and have an army help us out—“ 

“Wouldn’t you be praying for a war?” asked Mr. Short. 

“Well, yes.” replied Tirfendiel. 

“How do we know that the army wouldn’t kill us—“

“I haven't figured that part out.” 

“That seems very unwise!” both Mr. Short and Gletta exclaimed.

 

Tirfendiel sighed, “Idea three...” Tirfendiel picked up his glowing green sword. He bent down to the ground and carefully picked up a small rock which was lying on the cold stone floor, and then went down on hands and knees placed the sword on the rock, “I use a catapult to get out of here—“ he placed a pebble on the sword and launched it. It flew through the air and seemed like it was going to make a wonderful landing— 

“Ow!” muttered Gletta, as the pebble hit her smack in the face, “Tirfendiel, you could knock someone’s eye out with that!” 

Tirfendiel groaned, “Well, you see that was not the end goal. I wasn’t planning to knock any of your eyes out, but I was thinking if we found some wood, we could create a huge catapult and catapult ourselves out—“

 

“And do you see any wood?” asked Gletta, looking around the dimly lit cavern, she had seen no wood or even bones when she first walked in, but perhaps Tirfendiel had noticed something that neither of them had. 

“Well…no.” replied Tirfendiel. “But I was thinking, we could tie all our bows together and create one.” 

“We only have two bows.” replied Gletta. 

“Yes…but—“ 

“Therefore how on earth do we catapult ourselves out? And through what hole?” asked Gletta. 

“…Um…I didn’t really think about it that much.” replied Tirfendiel, realizing that he hadn’t thought that much about his other ideas either, which wasn’t exactly a good thing. 

“Tirfendiel.” replied Mr. Short, “Really, I don’t know how your idea is going to get us out of here—“ 

“I don’t know either…” replied Gletta. “…and I am quite worried some of these ideas will have a terrible end…”

“It’s not my fault that is how most of my ideas end…really, it is just fate that causes most of it, I blame fate!” Tirfendiel moved his hand angrily up at the sky, “And if it hadn’t been for fate, surely the seance would have worked, we would have wood, and the god of war would be more reliable…” he paced around, leaned his hand against the wall. He leaned back even further. He was very discontent, why had most of his plans not worked out? He still believed fate was the cause of most of it. A god must have written some terrible things about him and made it so his plans didn’t work out. He let out a groan, “It’s fate, it’s fate’s fault!” After he said that, he heard something, a cracking noise, a long cracking noise. He took a step away from the wall, part of the stone was moving, moving and making itself into a door form. 

“Oh, OH!” Both Gletta and Mr. Short stared with wide eyes at the door that had not been there before. It was now creating a gaping hole in the wall. 

“I…suppose fate created a way out!” he said, pointing over to the door rather clumsily, “shall we…go in?” 

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What are some of the wildest things your characters have done? And have your characters ever held a seance? (If so, then did they succeed in connecting with the spirits of the dead or did they just connect to a spirit of a squirrel like Tirfendiel?)

-Quinley 

The Fairies or the Faylena (a Short Holiday Story)

Happy Holidays everyone! Since there are so many holidays celebrated during winter, and I didn't want to make someone feel left out by mentioning only three or four, I decided that I should write a story that captures something that all those holidays have in common...which is love. I also decided to set it in the world of my novel, The Silver Key. By doing this, I will show how people (humans and shapeshifters) who would usually be enemies, can be friends around this time of year...at least for the time being. "The Fairies or the Faylena" is talking about winter holidays celebrated in my Fantasy world. I haven't figured out the exact dates since they don't fall at the same time as our world's holidays. But one thing I do know is that these holidays are celebrated during winter. My inspiration for the story was this song:                         

                         The Fairies they Draw Near

You can also listen to it here

I imagine songs like this played (by local musicians) during the holidays in the world of The Silver Key. Though these two holidays take place in winter in two religions that celebrate fairies or faylena, I believe there are other religions in the world that celebrate the fairies or faylena (just not at the same time of the year.)

So, let's begin the story.:

The Fairies or the Faylena 

This is the night, where many sit by candlelight 

Hoping to get a sight of a fairy in the pale moonlight 

Every child will tiptoe over to the window, hoping to see a 

fay down below. 

Far above the trees the fairies fly, into the night sky

All their voices are heard, and many rejoice at hearing a fairy’s voice. 

Round the bend they fly, and some hope to apprehend, 

In the starry sky they float, and many writers wrote about the fairies and how they were beautiful beyond compare with wild wispy hair, 

Even the bards let out a tune, about the fairies seen above the moon, 

Soon the winter’s frost is gone, and the fairies leave at dawn, to promise to return when the frost returns and laces the winter ferns. 

—Phoenix 

She sat outside on the steps of her apartment and looked down at the streets. Some houses had candles on the windowsill at this time; on others there were none, or the candles were snuffed out. Out the window of some of the houses, flowers were hanging: they were blue, silver, and sometimes even pink and yellow. While other windows had paper stars and even rainbow fabric flying out of them. 

She wasn’t sure when the fay would come, but she was excited about it anyway. Few have been said to see the fay during this time of the year. Some waited out all the night until sixteen o’clock and never caught glimpse of them. But, she had a hope they would show, surely fay would take an interest in humans, wouldn’t they? For they were said to come every year, she reminded herself, and she had heard that some passers by had seen them, once.  

She picked up her match box, and walked down the road singing tunes to herself, looking around, and lighting the matches as she went. Her daily wages she had earned had paid for them. She lit another match as soon as the second had gone out, as she ventured into the dimly lit street. Several carriages passed by her: some of the passengers looked out the window, but only for a moment, until they looked back at the driver and told them to keep going. 

She passed store windows. Some stores still looked open, while others looked closed and locked for the holidays. She stood to the side of one of them that appeared to be open, and she opened its green door, closing it once she got inside. She exhaled, glad that she could get some warmth that wasn’t being generated from her match. She walked around the store—elaborate dresses were hung there. Some had feathers sticking out of them, which had an unusual feeling to them, as if they weren’t even normal bird feathers. She eyed it for a moment, and then walked over to an another one, it was long and blue and a lot less elaborate than what the one from the feathers had, but yet intricate patterns were woven into it. 

“Do you like it?” came a voice, she turned around, she nodded her head in the spur of the moment. “Well, the reason you might, it was because it was modeled off the dress Ashalena wears.” He nodded his head, he then pointed her in the direction of the feathered dress, “and those feathers? You may be wondering where we got them, well you see, someone gave them to me, and told me that they once were owned by a shapeshifter.” She nodded and looked down at her hands, she hadn’t exactly wanted to go in and look as if she wanted to buy any of the clothes, in truth she didn’t.  

“And this.” he said pointing to a pink dress, “was previously owned by a rich noblewoman—“ 

“I’m sure that’s wonderful!” she stuttered, stepping off to the side. 

“Oh, well, do you think you would like to have a dress made to look like any of these? I’m not sure if we could get shapeshifter feathers, but we could try—“ 

“Thank you, but I am in a rush to go somewhere!” she said, feeling as if she had walked into the wrong shop. She did not have nearly enough money to buy any of these dresses, no matter how beautiful they looked. She smiled, rather falsely “I just came in…to, get out of the cold.” She put her hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it, and walked out into the cold once more. She wrapped her shawl more tightly around herself, she wasn’t sure if that would help in the slightest. She decided that she would walk to the woods in hopes of seeing a fay, even if the forest were swarmed with shapeshifters. She didn’t care as long as she had a chance to see the fay. She walked even more until she had left the city and reached the dark forest, her feet were sore, but she saw that the trees around the forest were tightly growing together and moss was around their roots.

She continued to walk. Even though she had been told many times that fairies were more likely to be seen where humans thrived, she had a sense that they would be in the forest tonight, as she had also been told they had a connection with nature. And it didn’t make sense to her for them to be in the city, even though some had seen them there. Besides not everyone in the city had seen fairies, some had said they caught glimpses of them, and she wasn’t sure if she fully believed all of them. There came a sound of something walking near her, she heard the sound of branches cracking underneath their feet, her first thought was that it couldn’t be a fairy, what she had heard of fairies was that they walked on the air and not the ground. But whatever it was she assumed it was a shapeshifter, shapeshifters were known to roam the woods and were very hostile, very, very hostile she had heard. She looked around, no thought to pray to the god of protection and safety came to mind (though that probably would have been of use). Her only thought was of the dress she had been shown and the feathers. The sparkling feathers that had been sewn into it came to mind, it wasn’t a ridiculous thought though, she knew whoever had got the feathers surely had come across a shifter and survived. Though she wondered how exactly they did that…. She didn’t wonder for much longer, for a figure appeared. They were wearing leaves, and there were a few of them in their short, black hair. But something was different about this figure beyond wearing leaves. Which was highly unusual for her to see, since she lived in the city and no one she knew of walked around wearing them or remarked on leaf-made clothes as “high and wonderful fashion." But the fact that they were not carrying a weapon of any sort brought a small burst of comfort. Even though she looked around for any sign of hostility, there was none. 

“…you’re…you’re…not armed!” she muttered out loud expecting the shifter to not understand. The shifter stared at her for a moment and then looked down at their arms and gave a quizzical look, “oh.” she muttered, “you understood…sort of.” The shifter walked over to her, or rather scampered across the ground and stood close to her, surveying her every move and staring at her with their dark green eyes. 

“What I meant, is that you aren’t carrying a weapon. You do, however, have arms.” The shifter looked at her, and let out a few sounds she didn’t completely understand. But they reminded her of the sounds wild animals made, and strongly reminded her of the chirping of birds. Then they turned and looked up at the sky as if waiting for something, something to come. 

“…I wonder if the fairies will come this way.” she thought to herself, perhaps a little too loudly, the shifter looked over at her, a look came across their face one that seemed to understand the word, but not quite agreeing with it, but now the look was far from quizzical. 

“You mean the faylena—“ they said, in a voice that still had a remnant of the bird sounds it had made before. 

“You can talk!” she nearly shrieked, she had half expected the shapeshifter to remain talking in an incomprehensible language, and she found herself to be a bit surprised that they could even speak her tongue. It was a guilty feeling surprise like she had lacked the knowledge or thoughtfulness to even believe the creature had intelligence beyond the ones of an animal“in my tongue—“ 

The shifter sighed, “yes I am able.” they replied, their voice still following the pattern of a bird’s song. “Anyway, you mean the faylena.” 

“What is the faylena?” she asked, feeling a little upset that she had been corrected on what they were called, of course they were the fairies, what else would they be? 

“They come every year from their land, where nature is ever in bloom, where nothing disturbs the peace.” they replied, the shifter looks up again, “the feylena are kind and just, and know no evil—“ 

“you mean the fairies.” she replied, feeling like she could end up teaching the shapeshifter what it really was, “they come from a land far away, where no human or shifter can go, but they return at this time of the year to bring peace and joy—“ 

“…Aren’t we talking about the same people?” asked the shifter, she bit her lip, 

“no, we aren’t.” she replied in the single moment. “Yours are obviously some shapeshifter deities that…that,  are well…related to nature.” 

“What?” 

“Yours are shifters of sorts.” 

“No, they aren’t. I mean they can be seen in different ways by different onlookers…but they aren’t shapeshifters, or gods, for that matter. They are something in between…they are the Feylena, or the fairies depending upon what you desire to call them.”

The shifter looked over at her,  looking down at the ground and then back at her, “and, besides you just said yours are from a land, faraway…“ 

“it’s probably a different land.” she muttered. “A very human-like creature land.” 

“…alright, then.” muttered the shifter, looking up at the sky once more, “they are said to arrive around this time.” 

First there was nothing the sky remained the way it was with little hints of light in the sky here and there, but a light a light like no other came across it. The light shone for a few minutes in the sky and then separated into several.  They seemed to be darting around, but not for no reason, they seemed to have a cause to fulfill. A goal as they darted around the sky. 

“By the gods!” she sighed, looking over at the shifter, who smiled back at her, “it’s really them.” 

“Indeed it is.” replied the shifter. 

“But…wouldn’t a shifters’ Feylena be different than our fairies?” she asked, “with wings and talons and—“ 

“Oh stop.” replied the shifter, staring up again at the sky, 

waiting to see what one of bright lights did. It stood there for a moment, and then slowly went down to the trees. And then something changed about it, as it went down, and emerged but in a different less loose form… 

“oh, it’s a fairy, it’s a real-life fairy!” she squealed, the shapeshifter merely smiled, “the faylena.” they both looked at each other for a moment, a small laugh escaped each others lips, any anger or disagreement that had gone on between them had slowly, ever so slowly faded away. And they both looked over. What the shapeshifter saw was a beautiful creature with wings made out leaves, and flowers blooming in her hair. What the human girl saw was a woman wearing a flowing green dress, but the hair of the fairy or faylena was of a rainbow hue. It hung about her shoulders and her wings were of bright light. She didn’t just stand there in the radiating light which shown from her body, she walked over to them, or rather floated over them and greeted them with a smile. And placed her hand, her warm hand which seemed to have an unearthly feeling to it in their hands, she looked over at the girl and the shifter surveying them both, “I suppose you are the two I was told to meet—“ she said, her voice had a soft feeling to it, but yet felt like nothing from that world, “the human and the shifter who waited to see us, in this beautiful night.” 

“…you knew about us?” asked the girl, “did the gods tell you?” The faylena or fairy looked over at her, 

“if they did, I am not allowed to exactly tell.” she smiled, 

“But I was told to present these to a shifter and a human who met tonight, despite their underlying differences…” She brought out two golden chains. They both had lockets attached to them which had something inside of them, radiating light like the one they had seen before with the fairies or faylena, “..and met to this very night in hopes to meet us.” She floated over to the shifter and placed the golden chain around their neck, and floated over to the girl and hung it around hers as well. The shifter despite the amazement of the experience, felt they had a need to ask what exactly these beautiful fairy-made or faylena made necklaces did. For they knew that whenever a fairy or faylena was to present a gift to a mortal, be they shifter or human or the gods know what, there was usually an underlying meaning to it. And it wasn’t just there for the beauty of it. 

“What exactly do they do?” asked the shifter, the fairy or faylena looked over at them. “They have two uses, one to call us for help when you are in need of it, and two, to sustain and help this friendship which you two have formed…or at least are beginning to form. How exactly it does this, this is up for you to find out, in time you will know. But you must know that this friendship must not end this night, like so many friendships between humans and shifters do, but that it must continue…” The faylena or fairy looked down at the ground as if trying to figure out how to form what to say next. “Even if others want to pull you away from it, don’t let them!” The girl nodded, so did the shifter though the entire meaning to them, wasn’t exactly clear, they knew they had to remain friends though, but they had only gotten a little bit of what was to come, at the moment they felt the current love which surrounded them that night, the night that they met the fairies and the faylena at the same time. 

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What winter holidays exist in your Fantasy world(s)? Do they have any religious reasons for happening? (Like did a god or goddess, or prophet (or another supernatural being) cause it?)

Happy holidays to everyone!
-Quinley

P.S. An upcoming post (that will probably be posted after the New Year) is one about my progress on my animation project, Pandora's Box. So be sure to keep your eyes open for that.

Mr. Robertson's letter (A short story.)

(Before reading this post, just so everyone knows when I say The Legend of Sleepy Hollow I do not mean the horror movie, I am talking about The Novella by Washington Irving, this story I am posting is not a horror story.)  

Hi everyone, even though it is not October I decided I should share one of my short stories about Mr. Robertson... (Also this one isn't very "Halloweeny," it's more the romantic subplot side of the story.) This is a test story to get to know my character Mr. Robertson a little bit better...
anyway here is the story:

My dear sister Jennifer,

Love songs, and ballads of woe are often sung in the presence of Katrina Van Tassel. She is the daughter of the rich farmer, who hosted the autumn ball after which Mr. Crane was allegedly chased by the Headless Horse…thing. Twas but a year ago, yet the townsfolk are still talking about it, and gossiping among themselves about what happened to Mr. Crane. 

I am afraid I am going off-topic for what I started telling you about was Ms. Van Tassel. She is the most beautiful girl in Sleepy Hollow and every young man wants to marry her, unless, of course, they were already married or had their mind set on someone else. Ever since I've been in Sleepy Hollow, Brom Van Brunt (for that is his real name, though everyone calls him “Brom Bones,” which is quite a silly name if you ask me) has thought that I too want to marry Katrina, which I have no desire or longing to do. 

From what I heard Mr. Van Ripper, father of one of my pupils, Isabella, and owner of Gunpowder the horse, which Mr. Crane rode on that fateful night, has told me that Brom is known for punching suitors of Katrina. Brom wants Katrina for himself and only him. I do believe that Miss Van Tassel hates being thought of as an object, prize to be won, or a damsel in distress, though when I talked to her she showed no signs of that. 

Besides meeting Katrina, I have also met another young woman. Her name I can not place (However if do remember it I shall tell you). She is quite skilled with the musket and is equal in skill to Brom (she is possibly even better than Brom). Some townsfolk even claim that she disguised herself as a solider and fought in the Revolutionary War (against England), though I can not verify, if this true or not, for she tends to keep to herself and has no desire for love. 

How are things going in England? And how is your book going? 

Your loving brother,

Mr. Robertson 

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What do you think? What do you think of the woman who Mr. Robertson says is better at shooting a musket than Brom? 

Love,
Quinley