by Jon Etter
François and Émilie chuckled. “I do so love living in our metaphor!”
“Because it is a tree, oui?” François explained to their non-laughing guests. “We ’ave ze tree so we ’ave ze branches and ze leaves and—”
“So . . . what?” Shade asked. “You want me to help you build another library somewhere or—”
“Mais non,” Émilie said, opening the exit door. “Something much more wonderful. Please step outside and you will understand.”
“Okay but I don’t know how . . .” Whatever Shade had planned to say vanished from her mind when she looked out past the shade of the gigantic oak tree to see a lovely, flower-filled meadow with a small brook meandering through it. She turned around to see Émilie and François beaming from the doorway. “Where did the ocean go?”
“It is right where we left it,” François said with a wink.
Émilie beckoned. “Come back and take a look at the lintel of the door you just walked through.”
Shade did as she was told. There, at the top of the doorway, was inscribed “Meadowbrook.” François placed a hand on her shoulder and pointed to a different door between two sets of shelves, above which it read “Marble Cliffs.”
In her initial awe, Shade had not taken much notice of the several doors on the ground floor, but now she saw that each had a name carved above it. She ran across the room and went through the door marked “Mount Wyrd” to discover a craggy gray mountain stretching up into thick white clouds above. Through the door labeled “Stormfield,” Shade found a dark, dismal plain over which the winds howled and dark clouds crackled with lightning. Finally, the door marked simply “Wall” opened on a little country town just beyond a quaint cobblestone wall that separated it from the copse of trees in which the library oak stood.
Shade ran back into the library. “How did you do it? How can the library be in all these places at once?”
“Why, magic, of course,” Émilie answered. “Done by the same wizards, witches, and scholars who transformed our library into our lovely tree of knowledge.”
“Drawing upon, I might add, ze most advanced work in applied intra- and extra-spatial studies like zat done by ze most esteemed Professor Pinky,” François added. “I ’ope you are impressed, my friend.”
The Professor clapped and tipped his hat to the librarians, who bowed and curtsied. François then reached into his jacket and pulled out a large acorn that he handed to Shade. “All you need to do is plant zis in ze ground and—viola!—we ’ave anozer branch and more fairies will ’ave ze chance to set zere minds alight with ze fires of learning!”
“Okay,” Shade said. She didn’t relish the idea of tromping off somewhere so soon after arriving, but she was willing, if it meant a lifetime surrounded by books afterwards. “Where do you want me to go?”
“Well, as you can see, we have these three branches established, and we have volunteers currently on their way to Bilgewater, Enderby, Jeroboam, and several other places along the major rivers and coasts of the kingdom,” Émilie explained. “What we don’t have is anyone helping us to reach the more out-of-the-way middle parts of the kingdom.”
Shade started to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Now when we ’eard zat you come from . . . what was ze name of ze—”
“Pleasant Hollow,” Shade groaned.
“Oui! Pleasant Hollow in ze ’eart of ze Merry Forest.”
“Which would be a wonderful place for us to establish a branch,” Émilie chimed in.
Shade felt sick to her stomach. “You want me to go back to Pleasant Hollow?”
“Mais oui!”
“But it’s dangerous and would take so long—”
“I can give you a ride,” Glatis offered. “In my other form, I’m exceptionally fast and—”
“Yeah, great, thanks for the offer, really.” Shade frowned at the helpful Questing Beast. “But Pleasant Hollow is filled with clodheads!”
“All the more reason for us to give them a chance to improve their minds just like you did,” Émilie replied, gentle reproach in her soft voice.
Shade looked at Émilie and François, their faces filled with encouragement, hope, and benevolence. She wished she had a mallet and chisel. “Oh, thistleprick!” she exclaimed, grabbing the acorn from the gargoyle’s hand. She stomped to the door marked “Marble Cliffs.” “I’ll do it. But I guarantee this will be the rottenest branch on the library tree.”
“Thank you,” Émilie said.
“’Urry back,” François added. “We ’ave so enjoyed your company, we ’ate to see you leave so soon! Heh, heh! You see, because ze trees, zey ’ave ze leaves and—”
“Oh, shut up!”
In which Shade should learn some
sort of valuable, morally improving
lesson, but let’s not get our hopes
up . . .
“You’re sure you won’t come with us?” Shade asked as she, the Professor, and Ginch sat on the leopard-furred back of the once again gigantic Glatis.
“Thank you for your offer, good junior librarian,” the far-too-good-for-this-story Sir Justinian replied, making Shade blush with pride, “but the good Grouse and I must away posthaste to the Seelie Court. ‘King’ Julius may be a frivolous fool, but no doubt his advisors and wise members of the Seelie Court will see the perils posed by the Duchess of Sighs and the rest of the Sluagh menace, which you and your companions have helped reveal. Once again, thank you, good Lady Shade, for you have given me a noble quest on which to embark!” Sir Justinian took Shade’s small hand and gave it a kiss.
Grouse snorted. “Yeah. Thanks.” He grabbed the reins of their old horse and trudged down the sloping cliffs, muttering to himself. “Least I got that crêpes recipe. And the one for boeuf bourguignon. And that one for . . .”
With a smile and a wave, Sir Justinian bade Shade and company a final farewell and jogged after Grouse, thus taking with him the last shreds of respectability this story had to cling to . . .
I’m sorry, good Reader, but would you mind terribly setting down the book for a few minutes? Maybe five. Yes, five would be good. I just need a little time to mourn our loss here before finishing our tale.
•
Thank you. I do believe I can soldier on to the end of the book now.
•
After a long journey that concluded at the troll toll bridge, Shade set out early the next day for Pleasant Hollow. Ginch, the Professor, and Glatis all offered to go with her, but she insisted they stay with Chauncey—she felt that this was something best done on her own. So, with Chauncey reading his beloved Owlslyn, Ginch and the Professor cheating at cards, and a furry little Questing Beast snoozing contentedly in the sun, Shade took to the skies. As she fluttered and glided over the tall grasses of the plains, she remembered how long and arduous the walk had been. The little sprite that had been so insecure and self-conscious that she refused to fly even when alone now seemed like a stranger to Shade as she landed steadily on the well-traveled heels of her boots on the edge of the Merry Forest, which seemed much smaller than it had when she left.
She took out the acorn given to her by François and Émilie and looked at it for a long time. Do I really have to go back to Pleasant Hollow? she wondered. Why not just plant it here on the edge of the forest? It might be easier for people to find. And it’s not like any of the bug-brains back home will ever use it . . .
“Excuse me, but can I help you find anything?” a tiny voice asked, making Shade jump. In the shade of one of the trees, a tiny figure with a tiny lantern hovered in the air.
“Anthony?” Shade smiled as she stepped towards the wisp.
“Oh, you know Anthony?” the wisp asked, zipping close enough for Shade to see that this wisp was taller and had a little beard. “Actually, I’m Abraham o’ the Wisp.”
“Oh.” Shade took a step back and crossed her arms. “So you were about to—”
“Oh, no, no,
no!” Abraham exclaimed, waving his hands. “I really was going to help you! Anthony has convinced a few of us that being helpful is the right thing to do, so that’s what we do now. If you get lost, give a holler, and one of us will come flying if we can!”
But she knew there would be no need; she knew the way to Pleasant Hollow.
I’ll go there, meet with Chieftainess Flutterglide, be told that they don’t want it, be convinced that they are complete thistlepricks, and then go back and plant the tree on the edge of the forest, she thought as she walked. Or maybe next to Chauncey’s house. Might be nice to just step out and visit with him instead of flying an hour or so to visit.
This was her plan until she reached the edge of Pleasant Hollow and discovered the biggest, grandest house the village had ever seen, newly built in a mighty pine. Three stories of wood polished shiny-smooth sat nestled amongst the lower branches, with a lovely porch bedecked with hanging flower pots—a perfect place to read on a summer day—right there overlooking the entire village.
They said they were going to build me a new house, but this? This is magnificent! Shade shook her head. It didn’t make any sense. They had never liked her or her parents, had never made them feel welcome, didn’t seem to feel that bad about burning down her house, and, quite frankly, seemed relieved when she had left. Maybe I was wrong about them. Maybe they aren’t as stupid or selfish as I thought they were.
As she reconsidered all she had ever thought about her fellow sprites, a purple sprite with pink wings flitted above with a rocking chair, which he placed on the porch. When he turned to leave, he noticed Shade. “Oh! Lillyshadow Glitterdemalion! You’re back! I . . . we . . . Hold on, let me get the chieftainess!” The fairy flew off, shouting, “Lillyshadow’s back! Lillyshadow’s back! Chieftainess! Chieftainess! Lillyshadow’s back!”
The air was soon filled with a riot of color as a rainbow of sprites flitted and fluttered about, spreading word of Shade’s return. Shade stood, arms crossed, watching the commotion and feeling unexpectedly fond of these silly, shallow, but, it seemed, ultimately good-hearted sprites. It took little time for nearly the entire village to assemble in front of the fancy new dwelling, everyone looking at her and whispering about her return, her new clothes, her new demeanor, yet none of them actually approached and spoke to her. Probably waiting for the chieftainess to come and officially welcome me back and present me with my new house, she thought.
Her suspicions seemed to be confirmed when the crowd parted and Chieftainess Sungleam Flutterglide strode toward her followed by her chief advisors, the elders of the village. She gave Shade’s outfit a disapproving look, smiled a strained smile, and said, “You have returned to us, Lillyshadow Gliterdemalion—”
“Shade,” Shade corrected her. “Just ‘Shade.’”
“Well, as I was saying, Lillyshadow,” Chieftainess Flutterglide continued. “We, um, we’re very surprised to see you here again. You were so adamant about never returning that we—”
“Assumed I had gone off and gotten killed?” Shade suggested, arching an eyebrow.
“More or less,” Flutterglide admitted.
“Well, I’m happy to say that I survived quite a few dangers, Sunny, and—”
“That’s Chieftainess Sungleam Flutterglide,” Flutterglide interjected.
“Oops. So sorry. Isn’t it annoying when people don’t call you by the name you prefer? Anyway, as I was saying, Flutterby, I’ve braved quite a few dangers, seen many amazing things, and it looks like my path has brought me back here, and I must say I’m surprised. I had no idea that when you said the village would build me a new home, that you’d make me something so big, so elegant, so—”
“Oh, this isn’t your new home,” Chieftainess Flutterglide said, pointing at the new house. “Once we started building, we decided, since it was a Grand Project, why not make it the grandest home that Pleasant Hollow has ever seen, which we did. And obviously we wouldn’t waste such a house on someone like . . .” Shade frowned as Flutterglide searched for the right words. “. . . someone who probably would not be returning to us.”
“So it’s not for me,” Shade said.
“No, it’s my house,” Flutterglide replied, proudly. “Obviously as chieftainess of Pleasant Hollow, I should have the biggest, nicest house. I was planning on moving in today.”
“In that case, your old house—”
“Is going to be occupied by Head Elder Pondsparkle.”
“And his house is—”
“Going to Junior Elder Raincloud. There’s been a major reshuffling because of this new chieftainess’s residence and—”
“And I have no place to live here, do I?” Shade said.
“Actually, the Mossgrave house is available.”
“The Mossgrave house? The oldest, smallest, poorest built, most dry-rotted and termite-infested house in the village?”
“It also sustained some minor fire damage when your house burnt down. But, yes, the Mossgrave house. And we would . . . love? . . . for you to live there. If you plan on staying here, which I’m sure you don’t, but . . .”
Yep, thought Shade. This feels more like the Pleasant Hollow I know and loathe.
“Okay, look,” she said, taking out the library acorn. “You don’t really want me here, and I don’t really want to be here. But I’ve been sent by some wonderful people—I don’t know why—to establish a library here.”
Chieftainess Flutterglide frowned. “What’s a ‘library’?”
“It’s an amazing place filled with books and information and smart people and—”
“We pass,” Flutterglide said.
“What?”
“We pass, right?” Flutterglide looked at the elders, who all nodded and murmured assent. “Yes, we pass. We do not want this ‘library’ here. Your family and their ‘books’ and the ‘big ideas’ they used to get from them were always a nuisance. Like when your father wouldn’t let us dye the pond water pink to celebrate the feast of St. Figgymigg—”
“Which would have killed all the fish and made the water undrinkable,” Shade pointed out.
“It would have been so pretty! Or the time your grandfather stopped us from having a town mascot—”
“Which was a rabid bear that could have killed us all.”
“Its foamy mouth looked so cute and silly!” The elders all smiled and chuckled at the memory. “And, of course, there was that time when you didn’t want us to have a fireworks display—”
“Which was about a week ago, and it led to my entire house being burned to the ground!”
Chieftainess Flutterglide frowned and shook her head. “So you said, but we have our doubts. In fact, many of us are convinced that it was those horrible books that actually caused the fire.”
“Wow! That may be the dumbest thing you have ever said!” Shade could feel her face getting hot. “And that’s saying something because you have said some of the dumbest things in the history of dumbness. If Duke Dunston du Derdeeder ever puts out a new edition of his Complete Compendium of Daftness, Dopiness, and Doofiness, you should get your own chapter, Flutterbutt.”
The chieftainess put her hands on her hips. “That’s Chieftainess Sungleam Flutterbutt—I mean Flutterglide—and I forbid you from bringing more books into this village!”
Shade looked at all the hard faces of the elders glaring at her. “You know what? When I came back here, I thought that maybe I had been too hard on you over the years. Maybe you were smarter and kinder than I gave you credit for. And now I know: You are even more stupid and selfish than I ever imagined. Honestly, you don’t deserve a library here.”
Shade was about to take her acorn and leave (much to the relief of most of the sprites assembled there) but then she noticed someone in the crowd. It was a boy, short and pudgy, his skin a dull gray. And there next to him stood a tall, skinny girl with drab brown wings and skin the color of moss. They were exactly the sort of sprites that would get picked last
for acorn toss, if they even wanted to play.
Exactly the sort of sprites that would not realize how beautiful their coloring really was because all their brightly-colored peers would mock them relentlessly because they looked different. Exactly the sort of sprites that could find the sort of comfort and companionship and joy and inspiration denied them in their daily lives between the covers of books, just as Shade had done at their age. Only these two—and who knows how many other misfits there in the village, probably even ones that were good at acorn toss and looked just as “beautiful” as everyone else—didn’t have books to get them through those sad mornings and afternoons and nights (or the happy ones and all the ones in between for that matter), did they?
Shade held her head up high and clutched the acorn in her hand. “But you know what? While most of you are nothing but pond scum-slurping, grub-gobbling, slug-licking clodheads, a few of you aren’t and deserve better. And maybe if you had half a chance, some of you clodheads could stop being clodheads. So like it or not, you’re getting a library!”
Shade made a small hole in the ground with her heel, dropped the acorn in, kicked dirt over the top, then dashed away. The ground began to tremble. Leaf-covered branches erupted and soared up to the skies, carried there by a massive central trunk that grew taller and taller and wider and wider as a vast root system grew deeper and snaked outwards down below, making the ground buck and furrow. At last, the library tree reached its full height, dwarfing even the largest and oldest trees of the Merry Forest and completely blocking the view from the chieftainess’s new porch.
Shade walked up and opened the door to the library, then turned and faced the sprites who still remained, noting the smiles on the faces of the young sprites from before. “Library’s open from sunrise to sunset, sapheads,” Shade said, grinning and crossing her arms. “And there’s not a dingle-dangle thing you can do about it!”
• Epilogue •
In which your humble narrator
is finally freed from his odious
