by A.W. Hartoin
“THEY’RE not here,” said Gerald, nervously sidling out of the parlor and bumping into me.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “They’re here. You just heard them. They must be hiding.”
“I say we let them hide. I mean, we’re kind of breaking and entering.”
“We are not. This isn’t their house.” I looked around the room, which had been organized and swept. “Do you smell something?”
“We’re not leaving, are we?” Gerald slumped and walked into the hall, dragging his feet.
“No,” I said. “We’ve only looked on the first floor so far. Do you smell glue?”
“Wood glue to be precise,” said Gerald.
“Right. Wood glue. What do you think they’re doing?” I went into the hall and grabbed Gerald’s hand. “Let’s go find out.”
Gerald protested, but I pulled him along behind me to the staircase. “It’s stronger here. They must be upstairs in Grandma Vi’s sitting room.”
We climbed the stairs to the next floor landing. My flames cast flickering shadows on the walls and Gerald’s hand felt slippery in mine. He jerked out of my grasp, but I managed to snatch a hold of his sleeve before he ran back down the stairs.
“Do you hear anything?” I asked.
Gerald groaned and pointed to the closed door. “They’re in there.”
“What are they doing?”
“Breathing.”
I opened the door and the smell of fresh wood glue socked me in the face like a stinky wet fog. “Whoa. That’s really strong.” I coughed, letting go of Gerald’s sleeve. He turned around and ran down three steps before I called out after him. “Get back here unless you’d like all of Whipplethorn to know you ran away in the face of glue.”
Gerald tromped back up the stairs with his arms crossed. I walked into what used to be Grandma Vi’s sitting room, keeping my palm lit, though I hardly needed it. Light shone in from the human’s party through the sitting room’s open windows, soft and diffused. The room didn’t look like Grandma Vi had ever lived there, but, for the first time, it didn’t bother me.
“Look, Gerald,” I whispered. “They fixed everything.”
When I rescued Easy, the room was filled with smashed instruments. Now the floor was clean of debris and the instruments were sitting neatly on tables, held together with woodworker’s clamps. Some weren’t put together yet, their parts spread on felt pads, ready for reassembly.
“Hello,” I called. “We won’t hurt you.”
“Please don’t hurt us,” said Gerald.
“I’m Matilda and this is Gerald. We heard your music.” I paused. “Well, that’s not true. I didn’t hear it, but Gerald did. Please come out.”
Slowly, a dozen dark brown furry heads appeared from around corners, behind tables or cabinets. Their fur rippled when they moved. It concealed most features except for their eyes.
Gerald grabbed my hand and squeezed it white. “Oh, Matilda. Please let’s go.”
“It’s okay. Can’t you feel it?”
“I feel sick.”
“They’re friendly,” I said.
“I’m going to throw up.”
“Stop it, Gerald. Horc was right, wasn’t he? Musical fairies aren’t violent.”
“There’s always a first time.”
“Well, it’s not this time.” I smiled and waved at the nearest one.
The trow lowered its gaze and peeked at me from underneath long thick lashes. Its eyes were dark brown with no white at all. The trow shrank back as I picked up a violin. The neck had been broken off, but was beautifully repaired. A light coat of wax made the repair almost invisible. I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t been looking for a break.
“You do beautiful work,” I said, placing the violin back on the table.
The trow nodded and I suspected a smile on its concealed lips.
“Can you talk to me?”
I saw the trow’s lips move under the curtain of fur, but I couldn’t hear anything.
“What?”
Gerald stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “He whispered, ‘We are trow.’”
“I know you are,” I said. “Soren Maple told me about you.”
At the mention of Soren, the rest of the trow crept forward out of their hiding places. I felt like they’d taken a huge sigh of relief.
“You know Soren?”
All dozen trow nodded. The one closest to me held out its hand. The palm looked like black leather. Calluses tipped the fingers and decorated the palm in hard ridges. Gerald grabbed my arm, but I took the trow’s hand anyway. It regarded me shyly and then patted my hand.
“We’re wood fairies,” I said.
Gerald relaxed and let go of my arm. “He says that Soren told them about a wood fairy with black hair in the antique mall. He told them not to scare you.”
I stifled a giggle. The thought that the trow could frighten anyone seemed a ridiculous notion. “You did well. I’m not frightened. You’re musicians?”
The trow picked up the violin and the bow next to it. He placed the instrument on his shoulder and played a quick tune so lovely and intricate I stopped breathing for a second it was so beautiful.
“Wow,” said Gerald.
“Wow, indeed,” I said. “Would you play some more?”
The trow all picked up instruments and assembled themselves in the middle of the room. Three played violins, one a harp, two had cellos, two more had guitars and the rest situated various drums. Once they were assembled, I had a hard time telling them apart. If it hadn’t been for the violin, I wouldn’t have known the one whose hand I’d held. I started to ask their names, but they began playing a slow melodious tune that made me feel like I was in a boat, rising and falling with gentle waves.
The trow played the song for several minutes. When they stopped they leaned forward, their eyes searching my face. I almost couldn’t react, the song was so wonderful. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”
The trow murmured something.
“They said thank you and would you like to hear more,” said Gerald.
“Yes, definitely, but would you mind more visitors? I know a little mindbender who can’t wait to meet you.” I smiled, although the word mindbender stuck in my throat a little.
The trow nodded.
“Gerald, please go get the others,” I said.
“Why do I have to go?” he asked. “I want to stay with them.”
I glanced over at him. “Really?”
Gerald ducked his head. “I like the music. Okay?”
“Okay. I’ll get them.
I left Gerald there listening to a sonata. It was hard to tear myself away once the trow began playing. I skipped down the stairs, buoyed by the music and feeling as light as I did when flipping around in the warm air outside the mantel.
The dogs waited outside, their noses still tipped up. They wagged at me, probably hoping for a scratch, but I wasn’t quite ready to risk being eaten yet. I retrieved Iris, Horc, and Easy and brought them to Grandma Vi’s sitting room. As soon as we walked in the door the babies stopped squabbling and stared at the trow who ignored them and played a jolly tune worthy of a parade.
I sat next to Iris on the floor and blew out my flame. The dim light from the party lent itself to the music. Iris heaved a sigh and sank back against the wall as one of the trow gave Easy a lyre. His plump fingers skipped across the strings. In a second, the trow picked up his melody and accompanied him in a song that spoke of longing. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I’d known Easy’s family played, but never heard them. I’d missed an essential part of life in the months the mindbenders lived in Grandma Vi’s house.
I whispered to Iris, “Is this what Easy’s family sounded like?”
“Pretty close, but there were only three of them. Mom really liked their playing,” said Iris.
“How come nobody ever told me what they sounded like?”
Iris cast a sad look at me. “Because you couldn’
t hear it.”
I turned back to the music, determined to enjoy it. With all those musicians in the same room, I was having nearly the same experience as everyone else.
We stayed for hours. When the humans turned off their lights, darkness overtook the music room and I relit my palm. “We have to go, but we’ll visit again, if you’ll allow it.”
The trow nodded vigorously and kept on playing. They continued even after we left and took my light with us.
“Are they still playing?” I asked when we got to the front door.
“Yes,” said Iris. “I guess they don’t need light.”
I asked again when we were all getting ready for bed and Iris nodded yes. The expression on her face told me that the music was still beautiful and I felt a pang of sorrow. Easy tapped his foot and Horc swayed back and forth. Only I sat in silence.
I made us pallets for the night, all except Gerald, who said he was too big to sleep with us. He went to my parents’ room. I lay down next to Horc, watched his breathing, and ignored the faint spriggan scent that remained in spite of the scrubbing I’d given him. I ran the songs I’d heard through my head, delighting in the rhythms, but also with a great sadness settling around my heart. I didn’t know how much I’d been missing and I wanted to go back to a time when I didn’t know. Back to when the mantel was on the wall of Whipplethorn and my worst problem was babysitting for Gerald.