young Nathaniel. “A fairy!”
“Yes, of course, I’m a fairy,” said the fairy. “A wood fairy to be precise. My name is Melanie. Who are you and what do you want here? This is my stream and my wood. I never have any visitors here.”
“My name is Nathaniel,” said Nathaniel, “and I was on my way to the nearby village of Colmsworth. I merely wished to refresh myself with a drink and a small rest under the tree until I am ready to continue on my journey. I have already met an owl in the wood, whom I liked very much.”
“The elf owl is called Littlewood. He is my only friend here. He has long made his home in the big oak tree. I shall call to him. Littlewood,” she sang out loudly, “come here for a moment.”
A moment later, the elf owl came flapping in and perched upon a tree trunk at the edge of the stream.
“Pleased to meet you, Littlewood,” said Nathaniel.
“Hoo-hoo,” said Littlewood.
“How far must you journey, young Nathaniel?” asked Melanie the fairy.
“I do not know exactly, to be honest,” replied young Nathaniel. “But I was told that a two days hike over the fields would find me at Colmsworth, or thereabouts. I am going to visit my Aunt in Colmsworth, who wrote to my mother and asked for me and my mother to come visit her. My aunt has no children, but would like to meet me, and though my mother could not come, I entreated her to let me go to visit my aunt on my own. So, at my insistence, my mother sent me off early this morning, with directions to Colmsworth, though I have never been there before. She said it would take two days or just above two days to arrive in the village.”
“Hmmm,” said the fairy, contemplating. “I will help you. Littlewood shall go with you on your journey. He can fly ahead and spy out the lay of the land and direct your course. How would that be, my friend.”
“Hoo, hoo,” said the owl.
“Then it is agreed,” said Melanie. “Littlewood will be your eyes, and I shall accompany you to be your translator.”
“Well, thank you, Melanie,” said Nathaniel. “I accept your kind offer.”
So, after a short rest, Nathaniel set off with the young owl perched on his shoulder, and a young fairy named Melanie seated atop the owl. After a day, Littlewood flew away and did not return for an hour. Nathaniel and Melanie waited sitting on the ground, chatting about the flowers in the field. The suddenly, Littlewood appeared with a great “Hoo. Hoo-hoo.”
Melanie soon got to conversing with the owl, and after a moment announced,
“The village is located to the northwest by about twelve degrees. We’ll head that way for a day and we should arrive safely in Colmsworth.”
Littlewood and the fairy both accompanied young Nathaniel to his aunt’s house that next afternoon, which was, by all reports, situated above the bakery. The three of them trooped into the small village, the owl circling above a bit to stay clear of any other humans, and Melanie hid in Nathaniel’s front shirt pocket.
“Now, young, Nathaniel, we must go, for we dare not go near the human race in general. I am glad you have come to Colmsworth. Take care, and do not lose your way on your return journey. If you do, call out to the four winds for me and I shall return to you to guide you home.”
“Thank you, kind Melanie. I shall always remember you—and Littlewood,” said Nathaniel.
“Hoo-hoo!” said the elf owl, circling quite near.
“Take care, young sir!” sang out Melanie, while Littlewood waited for her to sit on top of his back. Then she and Littlewood flew far above the village and over and away towards their home in the woods.
Nathaniel’s aunt was glad to see Nathaniel that very day, and though he never spoke a word of them to anyone, Nathaniel never forgot the kindness of his fairy friends.
The Kindness of the Imps
Far away in Eastern Russia, a flower girl named Masha was working late one evening in the city making the freshly cut flowers of her stall into flower bunches, when suddenly she heard a frightful noise coming from the storage room behind her.
“My goodness,” she cried, and dropped the iris she was holding onto the floor in fright. However, she decided it was best not to investigate the strange noise. So, she tied up the remaining flowers of the bunch she was working on and left the shop to go to sleep. She walked home in the cold snow, still wondering what or who might have made the strange noise. She pulled her blue fox hat down tighter on her head, so that she could no longer hear any noise. It was a cold April day, and well past sunset. Masha didn’t like to be afraid, and she dreaded returning to the flower stall the next day.
The next morning, when Masha returned to her small shop and stall, she found all the flowers mysteriously tied into neat little bundles! But she was sure she had not finished them all the night before. She shook her head in wonder. She could not explain this miracle!
That day Masha stood as usual outside in the flower stall, watching the people go by and trying to get them to stop and buy a bunch of flowers. Some time later, Masha returned to the storage room to find all of her new flowers neatly made into bundles already, though she hadn’t even started on the fresh ones delivered that very morning! This was impossible! Someone had done all the work that she was supposed to do that afternoon. She wondered then who could be helping her to do her work for her, but she knew of no one, for she ran the flower stall all by herself.
That night, Masha decided to stay up late and investigate who was helping her by hiding under the table. Some time later she heard a noise coming from the storage room. Two little men in green clothes with sharp, pointy faces and huge pointed ears came dancing out of the storage room and started to work on gathering the flowers on the table. As Masha watched from under the table, they arranged the flowers quickly and deftly into piles and tied them with long twine and ribbon, then wrapped them in plastic sheets to keep the flowers fresh.
Masha was amazed at the two little imps that had come to help her. She decided not to disturb them or to reveal herself and stayed under the table until the two men disappeared out of the shop and into the street again.
Masha didn’t know what to do. She appreciated the help of the two night-time imps, but to tell the truth, she was somewhat afraid that such a thing had happened. She didn’t believe in fairy tales anymore! She decided to accept the strange help she was receiving, and left the shop to go to sleep.
The kindness of the imps continued for many long months, until it was nearing the end of July, and Masha had sold more flowers than ever before. As the time passed, she had saved enough money to go on a long holiday by the Black Sea. While she was gone for several days, she spied a couple of lovely hats and coats that were the size worn by small children. She bought them for the imps, and returned home with them. One night, she laid them on the table along with all the flowers, and she waited to see what would happen.
The imps cried in delight as they saw the cute little hats and coats, and took them, putting them on right away. They laughed and danced and sang in happiness. Masha was also pleased at this. She didn’t give away that she was still hiding under the table, but she cried to herself watching the happiness of the two little men. The next day, the flowers were arranged as usual. That day Masha decided to leave some food on the table with a little note attached, “To the imps, who helped me,” and so she set the plates of food on the table and left to work her stall.
That afternoon, as she returned inside to check on the table of flowers, she saw that the plates of food were empty. She was happy then, for she knew that she had repaid the kindness of the imps who had helped her. For now Masha had enough money to open a real store and to give up the flower shop.
One month later, Masha tearfully wished good-bye to the little flower shop she had taken care of, and to the little imps who had helped her. She knew they would be there to help the next flower girl who came to the shop. Masha smiled with that thought, and then left to go to sleep.
The Mist Fairy and the Nig
htingale
Long ago, a kind mist fairy named Sophie lived in an ash tree in a large forest in the French countryside. Sophie was a mist fairy, and she would only appear from her tree on those frosty, mist-drenched mornings and evenings of early spring, winter, and late fall. Now it came to pass one evening that Sophie heard the lovely and sweet song of a rare bird called a nightingale singing in her ash tree.
“What a lovely bird,” said Sophie, listening to the song of the nightingale. And she crept out of her tree bower to listen even more closely.
“Please, do not stop,” she called to the bird when she began to cease singing. But Sophie’s plea was of no avail. The nightingale flew to another tree and then far away up into the night sky.
“I wish I could have got her to stay,” cried Sophie. “She sang so beautifully.”
But Sophie was busy and soon tried to put the nightingale’s song from her mind.
One day a human came traipsing into the forest, making loud noise. Sophie hurried from her bower only to see that the human hunter had a bag in his hand and in it, he was putting the nightingale he had caught in his other hand.
“Oh no!” shrieked Sophie, and she quickly jumped onto the back of the huntsman’s horse to follow him wherever he took the poor little bird.
Days passed, and Sophie came into a huge human city with wonders the likes