Fairies and the Quest for Never Land

by Gail Carson Levine

  Tink had been gone for decades. The night table tilted on off-kilter legs. A cobweb hung between the carved bedposts and the tiddlywinks chandelier. Gwendolyn pulled the cobweb away with a finger, then maneuvered her hands in to remove the rugs and the couch cushions. She snapped a finger against each one to beat out the dust. with a single feather from the Lost Boys’ feather duster, she swept the floor and dusted the chest of drawers.

  There. What an elegant place it was.

  How wonderful it would be to have a souvenir of Never Land.

  It wouldn’t be stealing, Gwendolyn told herself. Nobody lived in this cranny now. Its beauty was certainly wasted on Peter and the Lost Boys. Besides, she wouldn’t take much, just the rugs and the chandelier. When she got home she could make a fairy room to put them in.

  Carefully, she rolled the chandelier up in the carpets and tied the bundle with thread from the sewing kit in the socks basket.

  She paused with her booty halfway in the backpack. Mother Dove had said Beware.

  What if the rugs and the chandelier had to be here in the coming trouble?

  Carpets? A lighting fixture? Not likely.

  But what if?

  Gwendolyn returned them, although she couldn’t remember which way the rugs had been facing. If the trouble required them to be the right way, she had already failed.

  Outside, the sun was setting. The air smelled sweet. Gwendolyn put out her tongue. If only she could eat air.

  No need, because when she reached the Home Tree, a feast had been laid out in the courtyard. Surprisingly, the bowls and plates and portions were almost Clumsy size. Gwendolyn hovered and inhaled the spicy, lemony, and sweet scents.

  Dulcie flew to her. “See? We can feed a Clumsy. When the tiffens come we bake and cook for them.” She wrinkled her nose. “They won’t eat anything that doesn’t have bananas in it. It was more of a joy to make things for you.”

  Gwendolyn landed on grass at the edge of the courtyard. Fairies stood between the dishes. She sat gingerly, making certain she wasn’t crushing anyone. The silverware was smaller than she was accustomed to, but usable. The stems were silver bananas.

  Six fairies flew a bowl of pink liquid to her.

  “Cream of raspberry soup,” Dulcie said.

  “Isn’t anyone else going to eat?”

  “We had dinner,” three fairies said at once.

  Gwendolyn swallowed a gulp of soup while everyone watched. “Mmm. Delicious.”

  Every single fairy said, “Ah,” in satisfied voices. Then most flew into the Home Tree. Only Dulcie and Marla, a cook, remained. Marla stood next to the pepper mill, which was almost as tall as she was. Dulcie perched on Gwendolyn’s calf, halfway between her skirt hem and the top of her sock. As soon as she landed, Gwendolyn was more aware of the dots of skin beneath Dulcie’s feet than of any other part of herself.

  “Try the bread,” Dulcie said.

  “Try the noodles,” Marla said.

  Gwendolyn tried both, both delectable, everything delectable, even the baked okra. Cooked by fairies, she thought. Cooked for me by fairies.

  While she ate a slice of banana cream pie, fairies holding unlit lanterns flew out of the barn and hung them on the oak sapling. Could these be light-talent fairies? All but one flew into the Home Tree. The remaining fairy went from lantern to lantern, rapping each in turn with her knuckles. Every time—pouf!—a lantern flared. When all were lit, the fairy waved to Gwendolyn as she entered the Home Tree.

  “Oooh,” Gwendolyn breathed. “Tiny stars in the tree.”

  The lights made the courtyard a bright bubble. Every pebble gleamed. The white columbines glistened, and the roses seemed to radiate from within.

  Dulcie said, “Sometimes we have midnight picnics out here.”

  Gwendolyn swallowed her last bite of pie. She put down her plate and patted her lips with her napkin. She had rarely felt so relaxed. “You know,” she said, “the second-best part of being here is the food.”

  Marla frowned. “What’s the best part?”

  “Fairies.”

  Dulcie and Marla smiled.

  Feeling bold, Gwendolyn began, “Do you think…Do you…” She took a deep breath. “Do you like me?”

  Dulcie said, “You’re a good eater. We like good eaters.”

  Gwendolyn’s heart pounded. What if a fairy came home with her? Even without Tink’s chandelier and carpets, Gwendolyn could make a tiny home. A real fairy would be a million times more fun to play with than dolls. “My mother and father are good eaters too. You could cook or bake for us at home. Would one of you want to come with me when I leave? You could both come. Our kitchen is…” She trailed off as the two fairies zipped into the Home Tree.

  Dulcie appeared in the doorway. She yelled, as if Gwendolyn were deaf, “Fairies practice our talents here. We live in Fairy Haven with Mother Dove.”

  Gwendolyn’s stomach churned. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  Dulcie waved her hand at the dishes. “Don’t clear up. The stacking talents and the table-to-kitchen talents want to do it.” She popped back indoors and then reemerged an instant later. “Clumsies can’t understand.” She disappeared again and didn’t return.

  T H I R T E E N

  I WASN’T beware! Gwendolyn thought. She wondered how long Dulcie and Marla would stay mad. She didn’t know if fairies were forgiving or if they held a grudge forever.

  Fairy glow shone in the Home Tree windows as fairies sparkled around their rooms, entertaining guests or getting ready for bed.

  Would the fairies mind if she slumped down here, or should she slink into the forest?

  Poor me, she thought. Even skunks had dens to sleep in.

  Of course there was Peter’s underground home, but a skunk’s den would be comfier.

  Tink flew out her workshop door. She flashed in front of Gwendolyn’s face, looking annoyed. Gwendolyn concluded Dulcie or Marla had told Tink and the other fairies what she’d said.

  “Follow me.” Tink darted to the sapling, took a lantern, and left the courtyard.

  Gwendolyn, thinking beware, didn’t dare take a lantern too, so she bumped and scraped as she followed Tink into the woods. Leaves rustled behind her. She turned to see fairy glow and another lantern bobbing along. It was Terence, watching out for Tink.

  They flew along Havendish Stream. Gwendolyn feared she was being banished from Fairy Haven.

  A weeping willow took shape ahead. Tink flew between the trailing branches and came back out again. Her expression had switched from irritated to merry. “Come in.”

  Puzzled, Gwendolyn parted the branches. “Oh!”

  It was a bedroom! Tink’s glow and her lantern lit the green walls and made the leaves shine. The carpet was soft moss. Near the trunk the branches curved high enough that Gwendolyn didn’t have to stoop.

  The bed, a quilt-covered mound, was exactly Gwendolyn’s size. She borrowed Terence’s lantern to see the quilt better. Each square depicted a different fairy activity—cooking, baking, milking dairy mice, grinding fairy dust, and so on.

  Where had the fairies found enough cloth to make such a big quilt? She pulled a corner aside to uncover a yellow-and-blue striped sheet and a matching pillow case. Beneath the sheet was sweet-smelling hay.

  She cried, “Oh, Tink! Oh, Terence!”

  Tink dimpled, because the room was delightful or because she’d fixed Gwendolyn again or for some other Tinkish reason. “The quilt and sheet are made from old balloon-carrier balloon cloth.”

  Terence explained, “We move things in balloon carriers. They’re baskets held up by fairy-dust balloons.”

  “The decor talents got the room ready for you,” Tink added. “They want you to know it’s called a bower although it has nothing to do with bowing.”

  “Everything is beautiful.” Gwendolyn remembered a kiss vision. “Tink, my bower is like the big roasting pan you turned into a pudding mold.”

  Tink smiled again. “You know about that?”

  Sh
e smiled at something I said! Gwendolyn thought. “I do.” She told Terence, “The pan was ruined until Tink touched it.”

  He said, “Tink can do anything.”

  “Terence! No, I can’t.”

  “My bower was just space under a tree.” Gwendolyn felt happy, when she’d been miserable a few minutes before. “Now look at it.”

  Across from the bed was a chair made of branches twisted and tied together. Gwendolyn didn’t think it could bear her weight, but she pressed down on the seat and it didn’t break. Holding her breath, she eased into it and found herself in the most comfortable chair ever.

  She stood again to go to the night table. Across the top, fairy silhouettes had been stenciled in gold paint.

  Tink said, “The decors made the table from a shed that collapsed.”

  A tumbler and a porcelain pitcher full of water sat on the table. Of course the pitcher handle was a porcelain banana. Gwendolyn poured water into the tumbler and sipped. “Ice cold.” Fairies didn’t leave out a single detail.

  Terence smiled. Tink fluttered her wings and gazed at the wall of leaves.

  Gwendolyn shook her head, marveling. “My own fairy room! Made by real fairies! Er, not that there are fake fairies. Would you tell the decors I love it?”

  “They’ll be relieved,” Tink said. “They didn’t know what would be right for a Clumsy.”

  “Can I give you some water?” Gwendolyn held out the tumbler.

  Tink said, “It’s late.”

  Gwendolyn didn’t want them to go. “Did you fix the unleaky colander?”

  Tink frowned. “Not yet.”

  “You will,” Gwendolyn and Terence said at the same time.

  Tink said, “Dulcie told me to say they’ll make breakfast for you but not to ask that question again…whatever question it was.”

  So Dulcie and Marla hadn’t told.

  “Tink…after breakfast, can I watch you work?”

  She tugged her bangs. “Watch Terence.”

  “You can watch me. You may have a talent for fairy dust.”

  Gwendolyn nodded, although she particularly wanted to see the colander leak its first drip and possibly see Tink’s dimples again.

  Before leaving, Tink and Terence hung their lanterns on the willow branches, since their fairy glow would show them the way home.

  Gwendolyn called, “Fly with you,” and stuck her head out to watch them go.

  Just as they flickered out, a new light sparked up. Gwendolyn stepped outside and watched the glow grow into Dulcie, who was struggling to fly with a saucer of leftover banana cream pie.

  Gwendolyn hoped the visit meant she was forgiven. She took the plate and parted the branches for Dulcie to enter.

  “I thought you might get hungry again.” Dulcie didn’t sound angry.

  “I am.” Gwendolyn took a bite. “It’s even better now.”

  “Fairy leftovers are tasty, and fairy dust keeps food fresh a long time.”

  Gwendolyn finished.

  “Fairies lick their plates when they like their food.”

  Gwendolyn licked.

  “Then nobody has to wash them.”

  Gwendolyn’s mouth opened in an astonished O.

  Dulcie laughed until she was gasping for breath. “You believed me!”

  Gwendolyn laughed too, not as hard as Dulcie.

  “Fly with you.” Dulcie took the plate and left.

  In bed, Gwendolyn had never felt so comfortable. She drifted off, thinking, Two weeks of fairies. Maybe, before she left, she’d be brave enough to tell Tink that she was her favorite. And after she went home, maybe she’d have fairy sight for the rest of her life.

  She woke early, with her hand wrapped around the kiss, which was warm. A kiss vision, here on Never Land!

  She heard boyish voices, but not Peter’s or the Lost Boys’.

  A mountain rose in the distance, then zoomed in closer.

  Two tiffen boys knelt on a rocky shelf above a cave. Behind them, a gnarled tree sent its roots over the cave mouth to chew into the rock beneath, imprisoning a dragon—the real Kyto, not the constellation, the dragon who hated everyone, whose fire was hotter than any other. He strained against his tree-root bars.

  One tiffen was prying up a root with a knife, while the other boy tugged at the same root.

  Wait! Stop! Gwendolyn thought. Don’t!

  All the roots were giving way. Kyto’s cruel face was gleeful. Soon he’d be free!

  F O U R T E E N

  GWENDOLYN dressed with trembling fingers that could barely button a button or zip a zipper. As she left her bower and flew over Havendish Stream she thought of going straight to Mother Dove or Queen Ree, but she didn’t want to bother them if this was nothing. Maybe she had misunderstood her vision. Tiffens might often visit Kyto to play this strange game with his bars.

  Or the tiffens might be setting off the coming trouble.

  Tink would know.

  The sun was rising as Gwendolyn rapped a fingernail on the metal door. Tink took a minute to answer. She opened the door while tying on the belt of a silvery dressing gown. Her ponytail was down. Her glow was so low Gwendolyn could barely see it.

  “Tiffens are trying to free Kyto!”

  She yawned. “How do you know?”

  “The kiss showed me.”

  Tink’s gaze sharpened. “Did you tell Mother Dove?”

  “I didn’t want to wake her.”

  Tink’s expression said, Stupid Clumsy.

  Gwendolyn hiccupped. “I’ll tell her.” She flew off.

  Tink called, “I’ll come right away.”

  Gwendolyn lost a few minutes, because Mother Dove had been moved back to her hawthorn. When she found her, Mother Dove’s head was tucked under her wing. Beck was snuggled into her side.

  “Mother Dove!” Gwendolyn hovered in front of her.

  She raised her head and blinked sleepily.

  “Tiffens are freeing Kyto!”

  The sleepy look vanished. She cocked her head. “Yes. Those fools!”

  Gwendolyn dropped several inches. This was the trouble!

  “Beck—”

  Beck stood erect on the nest. “Yes, Mother Dove?”

  “Get Prilla. Hurry!”

  Beck was gone.

  “How do you know about the tiffens and Kyto?”

  Gwendolyn sat on a branch of a neighboring hemlock and told Mother Dove about her kiss visions.

  “Please have a vision now and tell me if Kyto is free.”

  Gwendolyn explained why she couldn’t. “And I don’t see whatever I want, and sometimes I hear one thing and see something else. I can’t pick.”

  “I understand.” Mother Dove fluffed up her shoulder feathers and lowered her head into them. She made a worried gug gug sound in her throat.

  While they waited for Beck and Prilla, Gwendolyn wished for the tiffens’ knife to be dull, Kyto weak, the tree roots strong.

  Mother Dove spoke from deep in her shoulder feathers. “How long ago did you see the tiffens?”

  “When I woke up. Maybe half an hour ago. I left my bower and flew to Tink. She told me to come to you.” Gwendolyn remembered. “She said she’d come soon.”

  “You went to Tink and not to me?” Mother Dove extended her neck straight out.

  For a second Gwendolyn thought Mother Dove was going to fly over and peck her.

  “You wasted time!” Mother Dove’s voice was so harsh the hawthorn’s leaves rattled.

  Gwendolyn swallowed over a lump in her throat. “I didn’t realize. I didn’t think.”

  Prilla and Beck flew in and landed on the nest, on either side of Mother Dove. Tink, Terence, and Queen Ree perched on Mother Dove’s branch.

  “Pr-ril-la…” Mother Dove peeped the p and rolled the r and ls. “…two tiffens are with Kyto. Would you blink to them?”

  Blink? Gwendolyn wondered.

  “Tell them they must not loosen his bars.” Mother Dove shifted on the egg. “They must not!”

  P
rilla’s wings stilled. “How can I blink to tiffens?”

  “They’re young,” Mother Dove said. “Tiffen children.”

  Prilla closed her eyes, then half opened them. Her face went blank. Her mouth fell open. Gwendolyn wondered why, then understood. This was a blink. Prilla was right there, in front of them, but she was elsewhere in a blink, too!

  She snapped her mouth closed. “I was at a zoo. I’ll try—” Her head sagged sideways onto her shoulder.

  She was back. In the next three tries she said she visited a skating rink, a library, and the bedroom of her laugher, Sara Quirtle.

  “Prilla…” Mother Dove cooed, “…rub my feathers.”

  Magic lived in Mother Dove’s feathers, whether ground into fairy dust or not. Leaning into them, Prilla turned around and around. Her eyeballs rolled back behind her eyelids. Mother Dove steadied her with a wing.

  Prilla vanished for a second—or less—or not at all—Gwendolyn wasn’t sure. Now here she was again, below the fairies and Mother Dove, holding two young tiffens by their flat ears. The tiffens wobbled on the ground. Prilla let their ears go, and they fell to their knees.

  “Kyto’s free!” Prilla yelled. “He was singing!”

  Gwendolyn gasped. Where would Kyto go first? How soon would he come here?

  The tiffens’ skin was scarlet from Kyto’s heat. When they saw Mother Dove their faces turned almost purple. One looked at his feet. The other met Mother Dove’s gaze.

  She cooed, not sounding angry at all. “What are your names?”

  The one who met her eyes said, “Arli.”

  The one who went on looking at his feet muttered, “Tammo.”

  Queen Ree said, “Why did you set Kyto free?”

  “We didn’t mean to,” Arli said. “He told us he had a cramp in his leg. We felt sorry for him.”

  Gwendolyn shivered, remembering Mother Dove’s prediction: Kindness will cause it.

  Tammo added, “He said it was his 639th birthday.”

  “We were loosening a root so he could stretch, when all the roots went sproing!”

  “What was he singing?” Tink asked.

  Prilla imitated Kyto’s raspy voice,

  “Happy birthday to me.