“And how long before he found you, did you notice the difference?”
“I — just that sun-up,” she said. Words were awkward in her mouth and she stumbled over them, like roots of the trees in the forest.
The elf nodded.
“Two days, two nights, not long. You are doing very well. You should be very proud,” he said, reaching out to pat her hand. She'd seen the gesture in the palace. The queen had reached out to her husband the king and patted his hand. The king had done the same to her. Then the king had done it to his daughter Midnight and then Midnight had done the same to her sleeping sister, Aurora. Edora had seen that when no one knew that she was there, when she'd wandered the halls of the palace and gotten lost.
Perhaps, it was some custom. She wondered if she ought to be doing it to others.
“And did anything out of the ordinary happen to you right before that?”
“In my sleep?” she said, reaching to pat his hand as she asked the question. She didn't want the elf to think that she was rude, not when he'd been kind enough to serve her the tantalizing carrot broth.
He chuckled when she did it. Elves are renowned for being ticklish. She ought to have remembered that and touched him lighter. As he looked at her, his eyes were dancing too though and she knew that it was not her touch that had brought his smile, but that somehow she had amused him all the same.
Her mind raced backward. It was odd. There was a precipice between when she stood on four legs and when she stood on two. It was as if everything from then was hazy, like the early morning dew.
“Mind the horses, then. We don't want to be stuck here until the morning dew!”
The words bubbled forth in her memory and tumbled out onto the elves' ears now.
“What's that you say? Horses?”
“It's my memory,” she said, “What does it mean?”
“Well now, I'd have to think about that. Can you remember anything else?”
“There was a wolf that cried to the moon. He'd lost his mate. She'd left him for another wolf. I could understand his song.”
He nodded, not seeing how this puzzle fit together, but wanting to encourage her all the same.
“Yes, and anything else?”
“The smells of harvest. Like someone had eaten a squash or else a – ”
“A pumpkin!” Fedderlin said now, snapping his fingers together.
She nodded, her eyes unblinking, unmoving from his face.
He stood, as though his chair could not contain the wealth of excitement that poured through his body now. He walked to his desk, opened the drawer, rummaged around for awhile and then pulled something out.
A piece of paper, white, trimmed in scarlet, unfurled like a tiny scroll.
“Aha! Yes! Just as I thought!”
She wondered if she ought to stand, if she should approach and see whatever it was that the paper said. She'd heard rumors that people, and elves, could read magic from paper. She wondered how it might work, how messages could be conjured.
The elf smiled and looked at her,
“You were transformed the night of the ball.”
“How?”
“There was magic on that night. A gift of glass slippers in particular,” Fedderlin said, remembering his part in them. Had he caused all of this? Or, at least, contributed to it? His skin prickled, washing him in discomfort, something that he was not at all accustomed to. He had to fix this and fast!
“You have until the last roses fade. When the final petal falls from Aurora's briar roses, then the magic of the ball will be over. You will return to being a deer.”
Edora considered what the elf had said carefully. He'd expected that she'd be delighted at this news. He had at least been comforted when he'd realized that his damage to her was not permanent. Rather than relief, though, Edora looked pensive.
“I will not be a human any longer?” She said, wanting to make sure that she had understood him properly.
“Yes, that's right. You will be free to be in the forest again, to feel the warm breeze on your back, to dance through the twirling leaves as they fall. To drink with your sisters from the pond.”
“But, I will miss you,” she said. She'd never talked to a friend, not in the way that Fedderlin had talked to her.
“You can still visit me,” he said with a smile.
“But, it won't be – will it be the same?”
“Well, you might not want to sit in the chair any longer,” he said, “But I can still make you carrot broth.”
“But, what about talking? How will we speak to each other?”
“Ah, is that what has you worried?” he said with a kind smile, “There's no need to worry there, child. Elves can understand the creatures of the forest.”
“You can speak deer?” she said, her eyes and heart gone hopeful.
“I knew your name, didn't I?”
She thought for a moment, then nodded,
“Yes!”
Then, it was settled! All would not be lost. She'd still have her friend, the elf. They would be able to speak together, to eat carrot soup and –
“But will I understand you?” she said quickly.
He nodded.
“You will, if you want to.”
“But why did I not before?”
“You didn't know you could before. The world holds many possibilities. Some that we do not even know are there, until we try.”
At this she nodded. He was so wise, this elf friend of hers. How had he gained that much wisdom? How had he learned so much? Perhaps, it was from the stacks of books that lined his oak shelves in his parlor. Maybe it was from the magical brew that he called tea, which he drank copiously from the tiny hand-painted china teacups. She felt a little prick of sadness, as though she'd turned and run into a thorn. What if she could learn to read the magical paper? What if she could drink the tea? What if she could learn about the world? Not just the forest, and her home, but the entire kingdom and other kingdoms and lands out there? She'd seen a map in the palace. The hunter had shown her where they were, where his home land was and where he hoped to travel on it. She'd nearly gasped. There was so much out there! So much that she did not know even existed. If she went back to being a deer, she'd be turning away from all of that. It was enough to make her turn a shade paler. The elf noticed.
“Child, are you cold?”
She didn't answer him directly. Instead, she said what had been taunting her, building slowly since he'd explained what would happen to her.
“What if I don't want to go back? What if I want to stay human?”
Fedderlin lifted his eyes, looking into her face. There was something of the deer in her still, but yes, she did make a convincing human. Shy, certainly, but then she'd only walked on two legs for two days. That too would fade away. Awkwardness would subside and gracefulness would emerge. After all, she'd been a deer, not a toad. And yet, wouldn't she be losing something as well? Was it his place to point this out to her? Did he have any right in doing so? But what would make her happier? Isn't that what mattered? What would bring Edora to life, make her eyes sparkle, fill her mind with the beauty of the world?
The beauty of the world, of course. That was the answer.
He spoke now, choosing his words carefully,
“If you want to remain human, child, then I remember hearing long ago that one must seek out acts of beauty in the world. When you find them, then you will know what it is to be human and the magic will last.”
She shook her head.
“Beauty? You mean like sunsets and the river flowing in the meadow and – ”
Her eyes were lighting up and she'd begun to speak faster. He stopped her here, for fear that she would think this all too easy and not consider it with all the caution that it warranted.
“Yes, child, those things are beautiful, but you are thinking only of the natural world, of what it is to be a deer. To see beauty as a human, you must seek out kindness, acts of peace, true love, the bonds of friends.
All of these added together go into making a person strong and of good heart. You already have a good heart, my dear – ”
Here, he could not resist saying it, for deer are the creatures with the kindest hearts among the forest animals.
“But you must now strengthen it if you wish to remain human. Please understand though, child. You must consider this very carefully. Although a deer is wonderful, a human heart is larger. If you allow your heart to grow in full humanity, then you will be unable to change back. Ever.”
He let the word sit between them with its finality.
Her eyes widened at it.
Good. It was important that he caught her attention. This was no trivial matter that she was considering, no small task that she had set about on to fulfill.
Now, having let the silence sit between them, to bring forth the right amount of gravity to the situation, he said,
“If you decide this, then it must be accomplished before Princess Aurora's briar roses fade. When the last petal falls, all will return, unless beauty has so filled your heart that you have become fully human. Do you understand?”
She nodded, with all the solemnity that she could muster.
“Yes” and then she added pensively, “thank you.”
And then he smiled,
“Ah, you are learning already.”
Chapter Seven
Midnight
I looked to the night sky. Black. It seemed darker in recent days. The moon was not yet glowing, having erased itself for the present to appear again anew in a few days' time.
The days were shortening as well, which only added to the darker hues of night. As I breathed in the deep shades of black, undulating like rolls of velvet, I searched for splashes of blue. Not even cornflower, but something as strong as navy. There was none of it though. Only darkness stretched its weary arms. And then – then – there! I saw it! Not just blue, but an explosion of dancing green, purple and white. It melted together into a fascinating display of all things brilliant, like fireworks erupting from a sunset.
And then I smiled. Deeply and truthfully, from the depths of my stomach, and I knew that all was going to be just fine. Aurora. The Dawn. There was hope again and it was written across the sky.
From the moment that I interlaced the golden threads into the dreamcatcher, this meeting had been set in motion. All those years ago, when my dreams had turned black, my own silver threads had snapped. Now, since I had woven my thread with Aurora's, a bridge had formed. There was a crossing now. And tonight, with the dawn at midnight, through the Aurora Borealis, our meeting could at last take place.
◆◆◆
When I saw my sister, I ran to her. As she melted against me in the embrace, I felt the air fill within my lungs. I hadn't realized that I'd only been half-breathing before, only half-existing. As I wrapped my arms around Aurora, I was whole again.
“How are you here? I haven't summoned you?”
“Are you all right? We've been so worried?”
Our questions flew at each other, both of us more concerned for each other than ourselves. Wasn't that always the way of it with us? Isn't that precisely what had caused this predicament in the first place?
“It's the dawn,” Aurora said now, “the Aurora Borealis. It's the reason why we are here together, why we're able to meet. Oh, Midnight! You don't know how many times I wanted to imagine you here, but I couldn't for fear of you becoming trapped forever.”
“Oh, Aurora, is it really truly you? But dearest sister, you ought never to have done what you did!” I said now.
“What I did? So I did summon you?” Aurora's face went ashen at the thought of it. She'd been so careful! Hadn't she?
“Summon me? No, of course not. I just meant that you shouldn't have wished, not on my account.”
Aurora looked at me, puzzlement crowding her features. She looked like a child to me in her simplicity and innocence and yet it was no childish answer that came from her lips now.
“If I cannot wish for my sister, then what use is a wish?”
At that I could say nothing, but I gathered my sister into my arms and held her, unwilling to let her go. I would, of course, have to let go. The night would not last forever. The northern lights were even more fleeting. And if I ever wanted to be able to see my sister during the day again, outside of dreams, well, we had work to do.
“Mother threw a ball,” I said now, “And I went to Rumpelstiltskin.” It tumbled out, before I considered what I was going to say. It seemed like a logical enough beginning.
“You went to Rumpelstiltskin while Mother threw a ball?”Aurora said, her head spinning as though the waltzing had begun in her mind.
I shook my head. I looked to the sky, studying it, my mind calculating the answer.
“How much time do we have?”
Aurora shook her head, shrugging her shoulders slightly.
“I have no idea. We're in a dream. The Aurora Borealis is in reality, but we're looking at it from a dream and a dream can shift, be transitory, be blurry, or trick us. You know how it was.”
I shivered and, though it had been months since I'd been hounded by the horrid nightmares, I could still feel their clutch. Yes, I knew how deceptive they could be. How real they felt with their gnashing teeth and death spirals erupting around me.
Now Aurora put her arm around me, to comfort me from the torment of the past.
“I have to go,” Aurora said.
“What? Go where? I've only just arrived!” I knew that I sounded foolish, but how could I resist protesting this separation. We'd only just been reunited!
“I don't know if it will work, but there's a book in the library.”
“A book?” I said.
“Mother told me about it. It's a book of poetry, powerful enough to unleash hidden doors between dreams and waking.”
“I don't know about that,” I said, doubt painting my face a shade more cynical.
“Yes, well, bridges aren't supposed to magically appear at midnight either and yet somehow, here we are.”
Chapter Eight
Aurora
She consented as much to that. She could never resist my logic.
“Then let me get the book. Tell me which one,” Midnight said, “Whatever needs to be done, I can do it. You've done enough already.”
She said it, barely able to choke out the final words. She was blaming herself for me being asleep! I should have known that of course she would have, but somehow that had escaped me. Now though I looked at her and I can see the lines of tension. Rather than a freeing gift, my wish had entrapped her in a new kind of horror: a world without her sister, without me. I swallowed to keep the tears from welling into my eyes from where they'd begun to pool in my heart. I was seldom sentimental. Logic held more appeal. But my, how I love my sister! I gave my head a little shake. There was no use in both of us getting tangled up in too much feeling, not while we had so little time.
“I have to do it,” I say now, “In order for it to work. I have to be the one to read it.”
“Aurora, no matter what, don't let me wake up. If I wake up, then I'll follow you and I'll be trapped forever in the dream.”
“At least I'll have some company until I wake up,” I quipped, trying to make Midnight smile.
Midnight shook her head, vehemently.
“No, Aurora. No jokes. I'm serious. I will never wake up. Even if you wake up, I won't be able to. There's no cure for willfully wandering into the world of dreams. Once a dreamer, always a dreamer.”
My eyes went wide.
“I thought that was supposed to be a good thing.”
“Haven't you ever seen Mother's eyes, when others say it? She remembers. If you're always a dreamer, then you're on that side of the dreamcatcher. Your life is lived through a veil of gold and silver threads, never free to exist as you ought to.”
I swallowed, solemnly, trying not to panic.
“I will not wake you,” I said.
Midnight nodded,
/> “Just try your best.”
“I will not wake you,” I repeated.
The weight of such a promise weighed heavily on me. How much easier it would have been to take aim with my golden arrows and pluck the apples from the trees with one clean shot! That's what I'd done with the strange creature that was both hawk and man.
“Practice,” he'd whispered to me.
“What am I practicing?” I'd said, as my arm deftly bent the bow.
“Concentration. You'll need it if you want to wake up.”
“What will I concentrate on?”
“On the details. On knowing which path to travel down. Some paths in a dream wind irrevocably back toward the past. If one should take such a path, one is forever tapped there. And if one should go forward, well, that is something that requires deliberate intent. Dream, yes. But, you know best of all that dreams can entangle as well without the temperance of reality.”
I slipped from the dream into reality. As I did, the steps below my feet wobbled.
“Careful,” Midnight said.
“You can see me still?” I said, trying to look over my shoulder
“Don't! Don't look back!” Midnight said.
“Right,” I said, shifting my gaze forward, “If I look back, then I'll be pulled back into the dream.”
“Exactly,” Midnight said, “Watch your step. That one's uneven.”
“Midnight, do you really think I –”
“Yes, Aurora. You can do it. I know you can.”
“But, it's – ”
“Aurora. I believe in you. I always have.”
I nodded, wanting to turn and look at my sister, to see her reassuring smile and yet knowing that I could not. If I turned, then our chance was gone.
“One foot in front of the other. Keep going,” I told myself. It felt odd to be walking, after being asleep for so long. It was as if my legs had turned to weights and the ground below me was floating, not allowing me to fully connect to it. Instead, I seemed to be hoovering just above it and yet, there was no whim or ease to it. For the weightiness of my body pulled me down.
While Aurora Slept- The Complete Trilogy Page 10