Well Aimed Chaos (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rainbowfic2013-08-05 02:54 am
whitemage) wrote in rainbowfic2013-08-05 02:54 am
The Littlest Fairy
Name: Ardy
Piece/Story:The Littlest Fairy
Colors: Fire Opal 17 (break down any wall); Angel Cake 18 (inspiration)
Styles/Supplies: Graffiti (Midsummer Night’s Dream prompt)
Word Count: 1094
Ratings/Warnings: G; None
Gilly was a tiny fairy among all the tiny fairy folk--she was so young, she had yet to grow her wings! But that wasn’t the half of her trouble. Her older sisters used to mock everything about her. Their parents were so proud of them, being respectable, troublemaking fairies: they would go out every night in their artfully ripped dresses and tall beetle-hide boots, coming back when dawn was well-underway to report on the livestock they harassed, the crops they ruined, and the babies they had spirited out of their cribs.
Little Gilly longed to go with them, but they never would let her. “She’ll spoil our fun!” they whined. “She’s such a ninny! Let her go play with her little blossoms!” For out of her whole family, she was the only one who liked to watch things grow instead of die.
Her father--a famous brownie in the Fair Land--dearly loved all his kids, and tried to dote on his daughter. But every night when her older sisters flew away, leaving her sobbing, he became more frustrated about trying to console her.
“Look, Gilly! Here’s an ant for you to charm!” he said once. Trying to please him, she called up her magic and made it twist and turn in a little jig. She clapped and squealed in delight, until she realized the ant was screaming in pain. Quickly she stopped, and summoned a nice bon-bon as she soothed the creature, her tears starting up again.
Another night, he whisked her out in town with him as he tinkered. “Oh, Father!” Gilly asked, wide-eyed, “Why would you loosen the mill wheel?”
“The miller bad-mouths our kind, and forbade his wife from leaving an offering for us.” For him, the matter was a fact, and well-settled.
For her, not so much. “But, Father, the wheel may slip off and kill the workers as it falls!”
He never did finish his work that night. And so on, and so forth it went.
“I can’t understand it,” said Gilly’s mother, “You don’t have any like that in your family do you?”
“No, no,” Her father cried, “We’re nothing but proper mischief makers.”
“As are we!”
“But what shall we do? If she won’t go about a fairy’s business, her powers will never grow.”
In the meantime, being trapped at home meant Gilly spent time with her older brother, Jack, who was a tinkering brownie like their father. Jack felt sympathy for his baby sister. While he got up to proper shenanigans, he had a cursed streak of.... ‘niceness.’ For instance, he kept a clandestine monthly appointment with Cobbler Johnson to help the old fellow keep up with his orders.
The next night, after hearing his parents fret about Gilly, he decided there must be a way to help her. He had long ago learned magic didn’t actually come from mischief, you see, but ‘meddling.’ And another word for meddling is tinkering.
There is nothing a healthy dose of tinkering can’t fix.
Into the world he went, wandering up and down and all around--in the forests and the meadows, on top of the mountains, and finally down in the wetlands. And there, he found a glowing water lily.
Peeping over the edge, he shouted ‘hullo!” to whomever might be within. The whomever was a pulsing glow of light: a little star, as young as Gilly. And very scared.
Now, water lilies are great homes for stars that choose to live in them, but not so much for stars that didn’t mean to come down here in the first place.The star told this to Jack, and also told him a great many things about its home in the sky. The star came from a large family, too, and it had many siblings that didn’t like it. See, it was supposed to be part of a great constellation, but it like to roam around too much. Its mother had firmly told the little star moving about out of time was dangerous for a little star, and its siblings always jeered, trying to knock it out of the sky for being such a pest. Tonight, they had succeeded, and now? Now the little star was stuck on Earth, and so, so lonely.
Jack couldn’t help get the star home, either. But he knew he could think of something. He sat with the star, telling it all about Gilly and how lonely she was, too--and not even that far from home.
The thing about the best ideas is, they’re not usually thought of alone. Collaboration is the key to the truly epic, from mountain vistas, to rich coal veins, to building rails for iron horses all the way across this country.
Jack brought the star home, and got to work. He worked well into the midday, and finished just in time for evening.
Before breakfast, he slipped Gilly the long silver wand with the hammered water lily on the top of it, which the star called home.
Soon after Gilly found her new friend, her sisters started up. “Mom says they’re sending you away!”
“Dad says you’ll never be a real fairy!” They all laughed.
The eldest bent down in Gilly’s face. “Aw, don’t cry! You can come with us... if you can learn to fly!”
All laughing again, they hovered into the air just out of Gilly’s reach, taunting and taunting.
Don’t mind them, said the star. I’ll help you.
“But I don’t have wings,” Gilly said. “They’re right: I’m not a real fairy!”
Do you want to be? asked the star.
“More than anything!” exclaimed Gilly.
The star wriggled and fizzled and spit a shower of sparks, then the whole fairy cottage burst full of light. Gilly’s sisters dropped to the floor as she began to rise. Her wings beat, and the breeze they blew was sweet as summer hayfields, crisp as early spring buds. Everywhere the star’s light touched went little Gilly’s fairy magic--and boy, could she meddle. Off they went into the night, and the town awoke in the morning to find rambling roses over all the fences, pumpkins growing in the hedgerows--every windowsill had a bright box of pansies, and Farmer Smith’s zucchinis were longer than his dachshund.
Her sisters never did stop teasing her, but now they do it from behind large oak trees, lest she turns their clothes baby blue and their wings to cotton balls. For there’s nothing more terrifying than the temper of a powerful fairy!
Piece/Story:The Littlest Fairy
Colors: Fire Opal 17 (break down any wall); Angel Cake 18 (inspiration)
Styles/Supplies: Graffiti (Midsummer Night’s Dream prompt)
Word Count: 1094
Ratings/Warnings: G; None
Gilly was a tiny fairy among all the tiny fairy folk--she was so young, she had yet to grow her wings! But that wasn’t the half of her trouble. Her older sisters used to mock everything about her. Their parents were so proud of them, being respectable, troublemaking fairies: they would go out every night in their artfully ripped dresses and tall beetle-hide boots, coming back when dawn was well-underway to report on the livestock they harassed, the crops they ruined, and the babies they had spirited out of their cribs.
Little Gilly longed to go with them, but they never would let her. “She’ll spoil our fun!” they whined. “She’s such a ninny! Let her go play with her little blossoms!” For out of her whole family, she was the only one who liked to watch things grow instead of die.
Her father--a famous brownie in the Fair Land--dearly loved all his kids, and tried to dote on his daughter. But every night when her older sisters flew away, leaving her sobbing, he became more frustrated about trying to console her.
“Look, Gilly! Here’s an ant for you to charm!” he said once. Trying to please him, she called up her magic and made it twist and turn in a little jig. She clapped and squealed in delight, until she realized the ant was screaming in pain. Quickly she stopped, and summoned a nice bon-bon as she soothed the creature, her tears starting up again.
Another night, he whisked her out in town with him as he tinkered. “Oh, Father!” Gilly asked, wide-eyed, “Why would you loosen the mill wheel?”
“The miller bad-mouths our kind, and forbade his wife from leaving an offering for us.” For him, the matter was a fact, and well-settled.
For her, not so much. “But, Father, the wheel may slip off and kill the workers as it falls!”
He never did finish his work that night. And so on, and so forth it went.
“I can’t understand it,” said Gilly’s mother, “You don’t have any like that in your family do you?”
“No, no,” Her father cried, “We’re nothing but proper mischief makers.”
“As are we!”
“But what shall we do? If she won’t go about a fairy’s business, her powers will never grow.”
In the meantime, being trapped at home meant Gilly spent time with her older brother, Jack, who was a tinkering brownie like their father. Jack felt sympathy for his baby sister. While he got up to proper shenanigans, he had a cursed streak of.... ‘niceness.’ For instance, he kept a clandestine monthly appointment with Cobbler Johnson to help the old fellow keep up with his orders.
The next night, after hearing his parents fret about Gilly, he decided there must be a way to help her. He had long ago learned magic didn’t actually come from mischief, you see, but ‘meddling.’ And another word for meddling is tinkering.
There is nothing a healthy dose of tinkering can’t fix.
Into the world he went, wandering up and down and all around--in the forests and the meadows, on top of the mountains, and finally down in the wetlands. And there, he found a glowing water lily.
Peeping over the edge, he shouted ‘hullo!” to whomever might be within. The whomever was a pulsing glow of light: a little star, as young as Gilly. And very scared.
Now, water lilies are great homes for stars that choose to live in them, but not so much for stars that didn’t mean to come down here in the first place.The star told this to Jack, and also told him a great many things about its home in the sky. The star came from a large family, too, and it had many siblings that didn’t like it. See, it was supposed to be part of a great constellation, but it like to roam around too much. Its mother had firmly told the little star moving about out of time was dangerous for a little star, and its siblings always jeered, trying to knock it out of the sky for being such a pest. Tonight, they had succeeded, and now? Now the little star was stuck on Earth, and so, so lonely.
Jack couldn’t help get the star home, either. But he knew he could think of something. He sat with the star, telling it all about Gilly and how lonely she was, too--and not even that far from home.
The thing about the best ideas is, they’re not usually thought of alone. Collaboration is the key to the truly epic, from mountain vistas, to rich coal veins, to building rails for iron horses all the way across this country.
Jack brought the star home, and got to work. He worked well into the midday, and finished just in time for evening.
Before breakfast, he slipped Gilly the long silver wand with the hammered water lily on the top of it, which the star called home.
Soon after Gilly found her new friend, her sisters started up. “Mom says they’re sending you away!”
“Dad says you’ll never be a real fairy!” They all laughed.
The eldest bent down in Gilly’s face. “Aw, don’t cry! You can come with us... if you can learn to fly!”
All laughing again, they hovered into the air just out of Gilly’s reach, taunting and taunting.
Don’t mind them, said the star. I’ll help you.
“But I don’t have wings,” Gilly said. “They’re right: I’m not a real fairy!”
Do you want to be? asked the star.
“More than anything!” exclaimed Gilly.
The star wriggled and fizzled and spit a shower of sparks, then the whole fairy cottage burst full of light. Gilly’s sisters dropped to the floor as she began to rise. Her wings beat, and the breeze they blew was sweet as summer hayfields, crisp as early spring buds. Everywhere the star’s light touched went little Gilly’s fairy magic--and boy, could she meddle. Off they went into the night, and the town awoke in the morning to find rambling roses over all the fences, pumpkins growing in the hedgerows--every windowsill had a bright box of pansies, and Farmer Smith’s zucchinis were longer than his dachshund.
Her sisters never did stop teasing her, but now they do it from behind large oak trees, lest she turns their clothes baby blue and their wings to cotton balls. For there’s nothing more terrifying than the temper of a powerful fairy!