by T.A. Barron
“Motherly!”
“Hello, my jelly roll.”
They hugged each other for a long time, listening to each other’s familiar breathing. Starlight illuminated the paths of joyful tears on their cheeks, as a gentle night breeze tousled their hair.
At last, they pulled apart and simply looked at one another. Vonya examined her son with the keen eyes of a mother. And Shim watched her with the certainty that he had regained everything that he had, for a time, lost.
“I’m guessing,” Vonya said quietly, “you’ve had a few adventures since I last saw you.”
“Oh, just a few,” he replied.
“Well then, I have a very important question.”
“What?”
“Did you rip your britches?”
Both of them burst out laughing.
Just then, Shim felt something nudge his shoulder. Turning, he saw the unicorn gazing at him with her deep brown eyes. No longer spellbound as a chess piece, she stood regally before him. Though she didn’t speak a word, Shim felt her send him a sudden rush of gratitude.
The unicorn’s horn, which she’d used to nudge him, gleamed wondrously in the light of the stars. Her silver coat, like her long white mane, glistened as if made from the luminous rays on high. She whinnied, stamped her silver hoof on the rocks, then turned and galloped off.
Shim, as well as his mother, watched her depart, hooves clattering. The unicorn’s horn continued to gleam until, finally, it was swallowed by the night.
Vonya sighed. Facing her son again, she frowned and said, “I hope you know . . . what I did to you, having you made so small, was—”
“To save me,” finished Shim. “I know, Motherly. You were only trying to keep me safe.”
Her frown melted away. “And how are you feeling about that?”
“Well . . . it took me a while, wandering clumsyishly around Fincayra, to get used to it. And the hardest part, by far, was not remembering you.”
Vonya grimaced. “That was a terrible thing for Domnu to do.”
“It was. But together, we’re more strongly than any spell.”
“Yes, we are.”
“And now,” Shim continued, “I know that I’m still a giant. Just . . . a giant of a differentish size.”
Leaning forward, Vonya hugged him again. “You, my son, are the biggest giant I have ever known.”
When she released him, she asked, “What was that crystal you had at Domnu’s lair?”
Pulling it out of his pocket, he held it between them, watching its facets shimmer and sparkle. “It’s the Leaper. One of the preciously Treasures of Fincayra. And its magic is so strong that it carried us, heartbeatly quick, all the way from the lair to here.”
“May I touch it?”
“Of coursely.” He dropped the orange crystal into her open palm. “See how it shines so bright when it’s held by you? That’s because you are somelybody who is true of heart.”
She smiled at him, then went back to studying the radiant crystal. “It really does glow with its own light.”
Tenderly, Shim placed his hand on the knuckle of her thumb. When she looked over at him, he met her gaze.
“Motherly. I want you to keep it.”
“What?” she asked in surprise. “No, Shim—it’s yours. You earned it, I’m very sure of that. It belongs to you.”
“Well,” he said decisively, “I’m giving it to you.”
“No.” She winked at him. “I’ve got all the light I need with you around.”
He shook his head, then spoke earnestly. “Listen to me, now. It’s not safe out there.” He waved his arm at the lake and beyond, toward the hills that hid Stangmar’s ever-spinning castle. “A giant who really looks like a giant is in constant danger.”
“You’re right,” she said grimly. “That’s what started this whole thing. You, at least, can now live safely. But I—I will need to hide. At least until Stangmar is no longer ruling Fincayra.”
She looked at him worriedly. “After what you’ve seen in your travels . . . do you believe that prophecy, the Dance of the Giants? The one that says we will someday rise again and destroy his castle?”
“I do.” Shim’s eyes shone bright. “We will be there, too. We surely will!”
She nodded in agreement.
“But until then, we must keep this crystal, and any otherly Treasures, away from Stangmar.”
“Agreed. Nothing’s more important than that.”
Shim gazed at the distant hills. He knew that, somewhere out there, were many other good and caring people who loved this island and would fight to save it. Starting with Elf, his brave little friend whose company he sorely missed. And who would always have her special perch on his shoulder.
Other names, too, came to him. The greathawk Rowallon, whose round eyes glowed with gratitude. The woodswoman Rhia, who could speak with all the creatures in her enchanted forest. And of course, the wise woman Olwen, who could see far beyond her secret chamber in the waterfall.
With a sudden jolt, he realized what Olwen had meant about his true quest. Regaining the Leaper had been only part of it. And maybe saving his mother, as vital as that was, didn’t finish it.
Shim drew a deep breath. Was it possible that he might still accomplish some other things? Maybe even some giant-size things?
Turning back to Vonya, he pointed at the crystal in her hand. “Keep it safe. And use it if you everly need to escape from those wickedly warriors.”
Her eyes misty, she nodded. “Only if I can also use it sometimes to visit you.”
Putting his hands on his hips, he declared, “You better!”
She grinned sadly. “All right, then. Will you show me how the magic works?”
“Of coursely. And I’m guessing you’ll get it more quickishly than I did.”
She hefted the crystal. “Don’t be too sure about that, my jelly roll.”
Shim glanced at the lake, whose water sparkled in the starlight. Seeing the small, treeless island in its center, he turned back to his mother.
“First, though, you need to give me a littlish ride. Out to that island. There’s somelybody there you need to see.”
“Whatever you say, you great big giant.”
Scooping up Shim, Vonya stepped into the lake. Ripples rolled across the starlit water, glittering all around them. It looked as if they were moving among galaxies, striding on the very firmament of the stars.
SOME TIME LATER . . .
Shim crossed a small, moss-banked stream on the outskirts of Druma Wood. Abruptly, he stopped. Right in front of him, in the middle of a glade filled with sprawling megafern, sat one of his most cherished sights.
A broken tree trunk that oozed, from every knothole, wildflower honey.
Smacking his lips hungrily, he stepped slowly closer, all his senses alert for honeybees. But he didn’t hear, see, or smell any sign of them.
Goodly, he reassured himself. The bees must be off somewhere else. Maybe chasing an unlucky bear who had dared to reach into their precious honey tree. So they won’t mind if I take a more closelyish look.
Climbing up to the jagged top of the trunk wasn’t easy for his little limbs. Yet he had a strong incentive, and no mere tree trunk was going to keep him away from his most favorite food. A few minutes later, he stood atop the rim, sporting a satisfied grin.
Directly below him lay a golden pool of honey, enough to fill the entire trunk. Surrounded by thick layers of honeycomb, the pool glistened temptingly in the misty light. Within it floated broken bits of bark as well as chunks of honeycomb.
Leaning closer, Shim plunged his hand into the gooey syrup. He took the very first lick—and his eyes opened wide in delight. Such sweetness, such ecstasy!
As honey dripped down his chin, he reached in again for another helping. This time, he leaned even closer, hopi
ng to grab a piece of honeycomb. Just when his fingers touched the pool—
He heard a loud snap!
The rim beneath him ruptured. He shouted and fell right into the pool. Thick, gooey honey covered him completely.
That is the end of this story . . . and the beginning of another one.
Certainly, definitely, absolutely.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
T.A. Barron is the award-winning author of fantasy novels such as the Lost Years of Merlin epic--soon to be a major motion picture. He serves on a variety of environmental and educational boards including the Nature Conservancy and the Land and Water Fund of the Rockies, and is the founder of a national award for heroic children. Following a life-changing decision to leave a successful business career to write full-time in 1990, Barron has written seventeen books, but is happiest when on the mountain trails with his wife, Currie, and their five children.
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