A decade of summers ago, an elf decided to aquaint himself with me, and led a young woman into the worlde few are rarely shown. Thrice he visited me, the third being the last. I was young, pregnant with my first born son and very much alone and living in the bush with no electricity or modern conveniences.
He was small, and funnily enough although it was yet a few years away, bore a remarkable resemblance to Orlanda Bloom in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Alvin as he wished to be known, attired himself in mediaeval Knight regalia giving an impression of importance and guardianhood.
Theyr was a small river at the bottom of the property I called home, my favourite place that I called Faery Grotto. Even before I knew that was were the faery did indeed dwell, I sensed the magick and mystery. Just like any other day and reading a book, theyr became a quiet in the atmosphere and the feeling of being watched started to invade my thoughts distracting me. My eyes drifted towards the river, and once more saw the elvish man over the river across the way.
He stood atop a broken branch that stretched like a bridge, protruding from the muddy bank. Standing straight, tall and proud his stance as Guardian of the faery grotto. He had upon himself a long silver sword that he grasped, with the blade down wedged into the ground. Although he never spoke, he let me know his name Alvin. The oddest, un-elfish name I would have thought. My apologies Sir Alvin!
The elf who stood theyr looking at me was only the beginning, as I said he stood guard of my faery grotto and must of let me in out of good grace. Only ever the once, and most surely a priviledge did I see, the muddy edge was alive and full with mythical life. Sylphs the size of dragonflys, the sun reflecting shimmers of colours as they frolicked through the air. Undines swam and played in the river end, theyr mermaid tails or theyr long legs making tiny splashes in the water as fish do. One chose for herself a patch of sun to warm on the bank.
Little work men trekked through the mud one foot in front of the other. Carrying picks and shovels, they manouvered around a tight, winding path. The funniest and best sight, my favourite and the one that really made me aware of where i actually was, was an extremely cranky and more than cross olde woman. This not very pleasant grandmother faery looked very aghast that I had dared disturb the privacy of her own home, and more perturbed at the thought that I had actually looked upon her. Her house was truly amazing, it was dug out and built into the mud of the river edge with a house really inside. You could see the rooms through the windows and it even had a front door. The olde faery stood at her top window looking out at me and slammed the shutter straight in my shocked face, but not before releasing a tirade of abuse and probably name calling, pointing her gnarly olde finger at me. Reflecting back, I think I may have been naive in thinking that the faery had been a tad rude to me, because it was I in fact who had invaded her domain.
Unable now throughout the course of time and the forgetfulness that comes with, knowing if i was in either a reverie or trance, but I was very clearminded during this and a little foggy for awhile after. The fading of this worlde and my leaving it happened at the same moment the cross olde faery shut her window, letting me know it was time to leave. Although the faery grotto and its other inhabitants were welcoming, I turned my back on this worlde but not before filling my eyes to the brim with the faery magick all around me, parting ways and back home to my worlde.
No comments:
Post a Comment