The Fairy of Dew

to my beautiful Heart, my granddaughter Olivia
The Fairy of Dew
 
(A philosophical fairy tale)
             
By Alex Dihes
      
 
A Foreword
 
These are only several lines; some hearty and disturbing lines, which I address to a Reader whose curiosity has been awaken by the word “philosophical” in the subtitle.
My dear reader, I need you to get to the reason why I have written the tale. There are some threads, which I have enweaved into the canvas of the narration and which I don’t want you to miss.
The people come into this world as creatures in a form as either a male or a female. Some even manage to turn into a human being as either a man or a woman. They are the ones who are able to get a soul, but this takes effort.
Only men and women experience Love; while males and females have merely sex.
At the time of hyper-attention to sexuality in our society, I dare to claim that there are neither means nor tricks to help a creature to experience Love, because Beauty and Love live in the realm of human beings.
My tale challenges you, my dear reader: persevere to turn the creature in yourself into a human being.
   
The Author.

 

Let Us Get Acquainted
 
 
Good afternoon, my little friend. Or maybe it is a quiet evening that is warmly hugging you now. Time makes no difference; your kind heart and your dear attention I have, and it is the most important thing in the world for me. Let me share with you a little secret: I am an old man, yet I am as fond of fairy tales as you are. For a long time I have been carrying in my memory a fairy tale, which you have probably never heard before, and which I call mine. Now, I feel, is the right time to give it to you. Then, let me start.
Once upon a time…
Oh my goodness… I am sorry. I have to apologize, my dear reader, as I’ve changed my mind. There is more than a fairy tale in that story. So let me, sweetheart, tell you—step by step—how I, being already a grown-up and quite a serious man, encountered my fairy tale. Would you like to know what I mean by my fairy tale? Well, sit down, please, trust me your attention, and keep listening...
 
Book 1
               
THE BOOK OF HEART
    
     
CHAPTER 1
 
The Quiet Life of Greenigreen
 
This story took place many years ago in a town with the wondrous name of Greenigreen. It is the town where I was born, brought up, and became a grown-up man.
I left Greenigreen only once to graduate college and become a teacher. I married while I was away and upon returning, my wife and I had a baby daughter. The three of us loved each other tenderly and we were a strong and happy family. Our house was small, yet cozy, and was entirely immersed in the woods—much like the rest of the town.
The people of Greenigreen met us warmly, and the following fall I started teaching in the town’s only school.
     
CHAPTER 2
 
A Picture of Greenigreen
 
Now, my respectful friend, it is time to invite you into my Greenigreen. Alas, there is an obstacle here; being a writer, I can carry out such a task only through words, yet that, as you know, would never suffice to bring a fairy tale to life. For that purpose—with your permission, of course—I invite you to use your imagination. With its help we are going to create a picture of that lovely town. So it would be tremendously kind on your part to take out your drawing tools and a sheet of paper to clothe my words into your favorite colors. I am sure you know exactly what I mean, don’t you, my dear?
Are you ready? Well, let’s start from the river, which is sliding along the bottom edge of your picture. Usually, when coloring a river, people use a pure blue. But we, the local dwellers, called our river the Silver Snake: that was how it appeared to us, zigzagging, rustling, and whispering amidst the hills, trees and bushes, splashing them with zillions of laughing diamonds from the dancing sunrays. So, now it is up to your fantasy to choose an appropriate color or colors. And I see you’ve already guessed that the second part of the river’s name prompts you with an idea of its shape.
Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you, but are your hardworking fingers becoming tired? Let’s take a short break before we take the next step.
 
CHAPTER 2 (the continuance)
 
Working Hard
 
The next step:
At the center of the picture, beyond the Silver Snake (on your paper it is just above the river), I want you to place an elevated area, more like a rise than a true hill. That is where our Greenigreen was situated. By using all of the greens available to you, I want you to adorn the hill with all kinds of trees and bushes.
Unfortunately, after that, due to our people’s love for greens, there would not be too many details of the town that the bird’s eye might spot among the quivering waves of the murmuring leaves. Nevertheless, let our eyes catch some roofs (of a house, a barn, maybe of a stable, as well); add a couple slices of streets with horse carts and carriages along them; some colorful flowerbeds; children playing in the schoolyard; and… whatever your fancy might suggest as you are the master of the painting.
Now, my diligent artist, switch your attention to the Main Square on the top of the rise. Here, I want you to build a small school, a Christian church with a slim bell-tower, and a synagogue. Do not forget to show, please, how the only paved road binds the square to a landing stage onto the Silver Snake’s bank.
One more time, turn to the green palette and—on the left side of the hill and on its right side—grow a bright aromatic grass, embroidering it with the flickers of colorful flowers and berries. Let herds of cows and horses browse around, and have, why not, a shepherd with a dog or two taking care of them. Are you done with it? Do you like it? Let me look, please. Well. It is breathtaking... I do like it! Now I want you to know that all that beauty you have just finished, we called the Sweethoney Meadow.
Do you need one more break? It is ok with me. Rest your lovely digits.
   
CHAPTER 2 (the end)
 
Finishing the Picture
 
Now, let’s employ our green gamut the last time. Choose the darkest hues, and all the free space along the upper edge of the picture you can cover with a mass of a huge olden days’ forest. That grandeur ocean of greens we called the Enchanted Forest; and later on, I will walk you into it.
Oh, my goodness! I am so sorry… There is one more thing, which I have almost forgotten. And it is an important one. Beyond the hill, somewhere in the halfway between our town and the Enchanted Forest, find a nice, cozy place for an amazingly colorful small house. That house is quite important to the furtherance of my narration, because the owner of that house plays a short, yet vital, role in this story. So at least let the pink roof of that house be seen on your picture. Thank you; and now it is time to move our attention further.
     
CHAPTER 3
 
The Bad Luck
 
When my daughter Alla caught the cold she was five. It was November. At the very beginning of the illness Mama and I did not give too much attention to it. A cold is only a cold. Running nose, a little bit nervous, some fatigue, bitter medicine, etc… you know all that stuff, don’t you? These things were occurring so often around us, and we, like most of the parents, had gotten accustomed to it.
However, this time the illness did not go away easily. Our tender heart was growing weaker and less talkative—and then she lost her appetite.
Following the doctor’s recommendation, we took our poor girl to the best clinic in our state. Nevertheless, there was no help there either. And worst of all, the doctors left us not even a crumb of hope. Not only were they unable to cure our sweetheart, they could not even diagnose the illness.
Finally, after ten horrible months and every effort, the last doctor gave up.
     
CHAPTER 4
 
Seeking Help
 
From now on, the only people in the world that simply could not surrender were Mama and I.
One more month went by. Our sweet flower could not leave her bed anymore. More and more often I would find her in an eerie silence, shedding tears, staring into nowhere. Were I to ask about the cause of her sorrow, she, barely moving her lips, would look sadly at me, uttering not a word. Staring into the depth of her eyes I drew the conclusion that she had no answer.
Our sufferings seemed endless. Finally, a day came when the despair, timidly revolving around our house, entered impudently and seemed to have no intention of leaving us.
Mama and I tried everything. I began writing letters to the people I believed could be of any help to us. The last letter I wrote was to my Aunt Minnie (she was, by the way, such a stupendous woman that close relatives and friends called her simply Mini).
     
CHAPTER 5
 
Small Words About a Big Woman
 
To tell you the truth, I kind of… let me put it softly… it was not easy for me to tolerate Aunt Mini. And why? You judge for yourself. The woman was almost seven feet tall and a restless four-hundred pounds of boiling energy. The fiery turmoil of red wire on her head she called a hairdo. She walked like an elephant, she spoke like an elephant, she was strong like an elephant, and what was the worst of all—she smoked. Of course, she did not smoke like an elephant (elephants do not smoke, as you know), so she smoked like a… a volcano. And when I say a volcano, you better think of a real steaming one!
My wife and daughter admired Aunt Mini tremendously, and she allowed them to call her Mini. On her part, Aunt Minnie loved all of us, me included. She was especially mad about Alla, adored her always, and called only her “my heart’s joy.”
     
CHAPTER 6
 
Aunt Minnie Joins the Army
 
Having mentioned Aunt Minnie, I cannot help but insert in the story some of my memories devoted to this distinguished woman and her great family. In case you do not particularly feel like listening to it, skip it. Jump to the next chapter if you want to.
So... Minnie was the elder of my father’s numerous siblings. All of their large family then resided in Greenigreen.
That particular summer, when Minnie had nearly crossed the 22nd line of her life, a vanguard regiment of one of our armies camped for a short while in and by Greenigreen. Early on, Minnie expressed a desire to join the regiment. No one was able to deter her. Without delay, young Minnie enrolled as a nurse and left her native town forever.
Taking into consideration her physical attributes, which I have already described, it was rather natural that she was immediately and facetiously dubbed Mini-Nurse.
     
CHAPTER 7
 
A Secret Of The Young Heart
 
The soldiers respectfully admired the new nurse who seemed to have no fear at all. Due to her tremendous physical strength, she was able to pull out two casualties at a time from the battlefield. Many soldiers owed their very lives to the nurse. Unfortunately, the very same remarkable quality was the prime reason that the guys were afraid of wooing her. Mini-Nurse could pluck out a cannon stuck in the mud like a toy; one wrong word or even an awkward gesture and an inept wooer could fly like a doll into the fence, or, if particularly lucky, over it.
Nevertheless, it was obvious that the girl was not worrying about those lads at all. By peering into Minnie’s soul, a sensitive man could discover a secret, which was overfilling her sensitive heart: this heart did not belong to her anymore.
From their first encounter her heart became trapped in a complete and hopeless captivity of the best officer of our army, Lieutenant Eugene O’Jay. “Why hopeless?” I assume you would like to ask me. Well, the lieutenant was barely over five feet tall, which was a seemingly insurmountable obstacle between two loving hearts, according to tradition.
     
CHAPTER 8
 
THE HEROIC RESCUE
 
Captain Eugene O’Jay was widely renowned and highly respected for his honesty, and responsibility, as well as to the way he took care of his subordinates. For his valor and intelligence the soldiers called him “our General.” There was a motto running amidst the soldiers of his battalion: “our General fears no devil.”
On the day of the Great Battle of Gatesburg there was a horrible rumor that the lieutenant had been killed in the still unfinished action. The rumor pierced the loving girlish heart of Minnie and resounded as an appeal for immediate help.
Minnie rushed to the battle place. When she emerged onto the field in her full height, no enemy dared to shoot at her. Following the call of her heart, she headed to the hottest spot of the battle, which was heaped with the dead bodies from both sides. From under one of these horrible piles, Minnie pulled out the breathless body of her beloved, and carried him quickly to the hospital. There the doctors found, to everyone’s joy, that the young officer was still very much alive, albeit in critical condition.
     
CHAPTER 9
 
Alive and In Love
 
Having just opened his eyes after a successful operation, the first things the young man encountered were those two blue girlish eyes radiating such an immense love and concern, which penetrated to the very bottom of his heart with such an enormous power that it was simply impossible not to respond with a feeling of the same passion and hope.
The wedding, which followed soon, rather resembled a battle. Uncorking bottles thundered louder than any howitzer, and their contents knocked off our forces with even greater success.
Although the young couple did intend to have children, they still decided to bind their common fate with the army. So, the new family’s wheels started rolling—winding up along the harsh roads of war.
You may know, dearest friend, there is not much entertainment in the ascetic military life. However, it did not take the soldiers long to redress the old motto. In new attire it appeared: “our General fears no devil, but both are afraid of the General’s wife.”
     
CHAPTER 10
 
From Our General To A General
 
Since the wedding day, Minnie was yearning for a daughter, but that dream never came about. A boy followed a boy, and every one was fiery red, like his mother. The lads grew up, ate, played, and slept with the troops. Everyone loved the Major Eugene O’Jay’s sons and took proud care of them so that each boy had his own nicely adjusted uniform, plus a wooden rifle and bayonet. In addition, one brother was presented with a bugle and he was taught how to play military signals, known as bugle call.
Some more years passed along, and the family of the heroic Colonel was now well known across the country. There was a photo in the newspapers, taken at a reception given by the Commander-in-Chief and his wife, in honor of the ablest and bravest. At the reception Colonel Eugene O’Jay was awarded the next rank and became the youngest general in the country.
 Eventually the family became too large to follow the army. There were, sorry about my memory, at least 12 boys. So, once the Great War was over, the aged General Eugene O’Jay and his wife retired.
     
CHAPTER 11
 
The Hospitable House
 
The family settled down in one of the fast growing southern cities. It was the very city where I went to attend college and become a teacher.
At that time the brothers had already grown up and flew out all over the country building their own nests.
I used to visit my uncle’s hospitable home with a humble reverence and the burning expectation of great stories. The door of the house was always generously open to the needy, and at the large table was enough room for loyal friends and relatives, as well as their jokes and memories. One such reunion I remember vividly.
     
CHAPTER 12
 
Soldiers Remember
 
As usual, after a hearty dinner, the entire company moved over to the fireplace. As usual, everyone was speaking loudly, slightly elated by good wine, strong tobacco, and my Aunt’s Minnie homemade beer. And as usual, I hid myself in a far corner, greedily, like a sponge, soaking up every word.
“Do you happen to know, my dearest fellows,” started a stout gray-haired sergeant, with a rubber patch in place of his left eye, “I was actually awarded this honorary sword for my cowardice?”
“Cowardice? You are… a coward? I don’t believe it,” a hairy cavalry Captain shouted in amazement, gesturing with his right arm (the left one was lost up to the shoulder). “Tell us about it.”
“Well,” the sergeant sighed, “it’s not going to be easy.” There was a long pause, while he was deciding what to do. “OK,” he exhaled heavily, “just don’t interrupt.”
   
CHAPTER 13
 
The Big Soldiers
 
“The news came that the campaign was over and everyone relaxed. Suddenly, we, the exhausted remainder of a former regiment, came across a stray enemy group that was three times as large as ours and quite as well equipped. The group had lost any connection to their headquarters and knew nothing about the announced truce agreement. Their commander declined our armistice proposal—we had to fight.
“There was another option: to dive into the hills. Taking into account our lack of ammunition, weary horses, fatigued people, our feet worn down to blood, that maneuver would give us a minute chance to avoid complete defeat. Instead, our illustrious Colonel, Sir Eugene O’Jay, withdrew us into a narrow valley, which, we soon found out, was locked up by an insurmountable bog. It was a place to win or die.
“On the eve of the battle, the Colonel gave us a speech. As usual, it was brief and simple: ‘The cannons start before the dawn—up to the last shell. With the sunrise (it will be behind us) we all attack—all, including the artillerists, cooks, and repair men. The spirit is with us. So,’ he paused for a moment, ‘my friends, let your courage make up for our friends who have fallen. May God bless us all. Amen.’
“Not everyone was in agreement with the plan. Yes, the narrowness of the valley would not let our foes use their advantage in quantity. Yes, the sun would blind the enemies, shooting from behind us. But the spirit… the spirit is elusive and at times a tricky gadget.
“The next morning, after the angry cannons had stopped spitting out their iron curses, the first sun ray fell onto the battlefield. It lit upon our colonel. He stood at attention on a mound, open to all winds and deaths. The colonel raised his sword and called us into attack. And then… what happened was something that the Colonel had never expected: no one followed him.
“Each of us knew the war was over; that this was an absolutely stupid, unnecessary battle, and it would be the last for our company. There was nothing to fight for any longer. That thought had knocked our courage away and paralyzed our muscles.
“After being overwhelmed in the beginning, the enemy began to solidify their gunfire. I was lying face down, absolutely ashamed. I felt… I could even touch the precious seconds that were rushing past, taking away our only chance of victory.
“Suddenly there was a bugle call. The sound was weak, yet clear; I heard it with my heart and I looked up. The Colonel was still there on the mound and with him, on both sides, standing motionlessly abreast, were his most loyal soldiers: his dearest sons. The bugler was playing the attack; the call soared up and died away. Ahead, towards the enemy, marched the Colonel, followed by his fearless escort with their wooden rifles and wooden bayonets.
“Bullets were singing death and horror and blew out the soil from under their feet. Then suddenly, one boy fell to the ground. My God! And behind this incredible army, stood, like petrified, the Colonel’s wife with the youngest clasped against her heart.
“The bugle flew up again and the sound filled me with such humiliating pain that in a split second a wave of shame threw me and every one else out of hiding. The squall of our vengeance swept away the astounded enemy. Our losses were minimal. Without taking into account such small details as my lost eye, for instance, it was a real triumph. It was all thanks to the Colonel and his family.”
“Yes,” sighed the Captain, “it was a great time of great people.”
Before speaking out, a tall, toothless soldier with a prosthesis in place of his right leg carefully checked if Aunt Minnie was out of the room.
“Do you remember, fellows, we used to say: the wounded get up, if our General leads us; the dead fight when his wife is behind us.”
“Thank you, my dearest friends,” replied Uncle Eugene. “Those were very pleasant memories. Yet, let’s stop talking about my wife and me. Let us drink to the memory of the friends who remained on those damned fields. They were better than us. Let’s sing our song!”
     
CHAPTER 14
 
The Song
 
Be you, my heir, young or old,
Bow in respect, don’t waste a word,
To our silent graves.
We left you Freedom, so it waves,
Would fly our flag above the world.
It was the cause we died for,
We’ve paid the price. What could we more!
America’s my love.
America’s my love.
In a shiny day,
In a rainy day,
America’s my love.
     
CHAPTER 15
 
Aunt Minnie Is With Us
 
Now is the right time to return into Greenigreen.
After getting my letter, Aunt Minnie arrived by the first available steamer. Unfortunately, Uncle Eugene O’Jay was not with us anymore.
Usually, if she felt well, Aunt Minnie would visit us in late fall, after all the wonders of nature from her garden had been canned, oiled, smoked, dried, salted, marinated, and whatever else.
Aunt Minnie kept the best memories about the town of her youth. She knew by heart every corner of its streets, squares, and thoroughfares. She knew all of the families by name, and had known more about each than they knew themselves.
Although July was still in a full swing, despite the distance and some health problems, she abandoned everything as unimportant and hurried over to save her heart’s joy.
Immediately upon arriving, Aunt Minnie started her energetic and relentless activity. A great deal of ado and calamity was added to our life, but it brought no improvement upon our daughter.
     
CHAPTER 16
 
An Unexpected Twist
 
On the third day after Aunt Minnie’s arrival we had a brief conversation, which changed the line of events drastically. Did I say a conversation? Well, let me put it this way: it was not a customary conversation. Rather, Aunt Minnie dragged me through an inquisition. She started quietly.
“I am sorry to bother you, my dear nephew, but I see no prescription from Dr. Our Healing Magician.” Then, she ended sharply and acrimoniously, “Why is that?”
“Who?” I asked, as I didn’t understand. “What are you talking about?”
“What do you try to render up by your stupid ‘who’!?” blew up Aunt Minnie. “Oh, my God! My heart’s joy is dying, but her so-called Papa has not shown her to the best doctor in the world.”
     
CHAPTER 17
 
Doctor Our Healing Magician
 
My wife looked at me questioningly with hope lighting her exhausted eyes.
“You see,” I attempted to explain to her, “the man Aunt Minnie is referring to, was a doctor whom the locals dubbed Dr. Our Healing Magician, firstly due to his unbelievable success; and secondly, due to respect for his age. He was so old that no one ever saw him young and no one remembered his real name. Unfortunately, he lived in our town many years back and...”
“What is your tongue milling?” interrupted Aunt Minnie. “Who lived? Why lived? What tense are you in, my respectable teacher?”
“I guess you meant the doctor who lived in the house between…”
Aunt Minnie broke my explanation again. “Yes, yes. I meant and I mean the doctor, the same small, yes, not quite young gentleman with a silver goatee and that charming pince-nez on his beautiful bulging nose—God bless his heart—who did live… and still lives on the skirt of the town in that tiny, cozy house under a pink roof with his inseparable friends and assistants, Ms. Loyally Wisehead and Mr. Genuine Droog. I feel sorry for you, my nephew. You, as one of a few teachers of this town, must know its notable citizens.”
     
CHAPTER 18
 
My Doubts
 
“Aunt Minnie, I can still recall him. But since he introduced us to his young successor, whom he himself brought to the town (over 20 years ago, by the way), Dr. Our Healing Magician ceased his private practice. No one has seen him in years. To tell you the truth, many believe that he has passed away. When I was a child, there was a rumor that he was over hmm, hmm… (I just didn’t dare to utter the number) so many years of age. Besides, Aunt Minnie, what kind of help could you expect? He was merely a provincial doctor; a healer of humans and animals.”
“A healer?! I feel pity for you, teacher. You have no right whatsoever to judge that honorable man and besides, judge him so low. Firstly, to my knowledge, he saved your life at least two times. Secondly, he is still very much alive. Just last week charming Ms. Loyally Wisehead brought me a fresh supply of herbs and a birthday card signed by Dr. Our Healing Magician, Ms. Loyally Wisehead, and Mr. Genuine Droog.”
My wife and I looked at each other not knowing to what to believe.
“Who brought it to you?” asked my wife, “And who signed? What are you both arguing about?”
“I am shocked,” Aunt Minnie looked bitterly disappointed. “Have you not known yet that Ms. Loyally Wisehead is a respectful owl, quite of a middle age, my guess would be... 300 years or a little younger; and Mr. Genuine Droog is a charming dog. He is a real youngster—only 230 years of age. How old Mr. Our Healing Magician is, I don’t know exactly. He is not a boy, it is for sure; besides, any age of his does not pertain to our case in a smallest degree.”
I attempted to calm her down by saying, “It is ok, Aunt Minnie. But… who, you said, signed the card? An owl? A dog!”
“Why a dog? Did I say dog? Sorry. Of course, not! Mr. Genuine Droog is a polite and well educated gentleman, except… you see, it is kind of difficult for his paws to hold a pen. It was Ms. Loyally Wisehead who signed the card on his behalf. Why cannot you both understand such an easy thing?”
She was furious again.
     
CHAPTER 19
 
The Doctor’s Assistants
 
“Ok, ok, Aunt Minnie, I’ve got it. Please, calm down. Yes, there was always a rumor flying around about the strange friendship, but no one wanted to admit all that stuff as truthful. Why don’t you tell us what you know? Yet… you are not going to tell us they could speak, are you? I don’t mean the doctor, of course.”
“What a stupid question! Of course they do speak,” Aunt Minnie twisted her thin lips. “However, having mentioned Ms. Loyally Wisehead and Mr. Genuine Droog, there is a communication problem. Mr. Droog understands and reads English (and several other tongues) impeccably, but can speak only the Doggish language. Luckily, Ms. Loyally Wisehead is a perfect interpreter. She speaks both English and Doggish. So when they go to the Enchanted Forest to collect the medicinal herbs, roots, berries, and all that stuff, you know… it is usually Mr. Genuine Droog who finds them. Then they discuss the usage, dosage… whatever. Needless to say that Ms. Loyally Wisehead with her fantastic memory and phenomenal experience can attribute tens of thousands of various remedies… Well,” Aunt Minnie sharply handed the reins to me, “it is not the right time for talking. Now, my nephew, I want you to invite Dr. Our Healing Magician here and I want you start moving right now.”
     
CHAPTER 20
 
On the Doctor’s Odds
 
What could I do? I possessed not enough courage to disobey, so I went to harness our horse. I did not feel like going at all. Truthfully, I had not forgotten the doctor. On the contrary, I remembered him too well. In our town the doctor had a reputation of... how to put it right... a reputation of being a funny or rather an odd man. Behind his back people—some jokingly, others seriously—called him a weirdo.
I must admit that he treated his patients fantastically successfully. Yet, many of us felt uneasy resorting to his help. And let me tell you why.
To each of his patients the Doctor ordinarily supplied medicine prepared by himself. But, wait! There was an advice or two added to his medical recommendations, to which meticulous adherence was a must, as part of the necessary condition of the curing process.
Judge it yourself. To an old woman, having a problem with her gall bladder, he prescribed “stop spreading gossip.”
To a young woman complaining of migraines, he advised her to “talk less and read more.”
To a seriously sick boy, who, just as with my daughter, the other doctors gave up trying to cure, Dr. Our Healing Magician wrote in the prescription: “Papa and Mama must stop bickering!!!” Yes, he put it exactly that way with the three exclamation marks. Isn’t it strange? Of course, who is arguing? It is a blessing when there is peace and agreement in family. But except for that advice, Dr. Our Healing Magician gave the boy no drugs at all. And would you like to know the end of that case? As soon as love and care returned in the family the boy quickly recovered.
Smart people explained the result as a mere coincidence; and the fools continued doubting the doctor’s methods.
     
CHAPTER 21
 
Solemn Arrival
 
When I was about to go, Aunt Minnie changed her mind. She decided that she should go by herself, for Dr. Our Healing Magician might refuse to receive me.
In a half an hour or so a bizarre noise outside the house drew our attention. Looking out of the window I observed a funny scene. Our cart was behind the gate and the horse, like a dumbstruck fool, stared over the fence at something in our front yard. I followed the stare and saw Aunt Minnie strolling towards the door. She had, oh my goodness, an angry Dr. Our Healing Magician (a well-dressed gentleman with a silver moustache and a triangular professor beard, with a pince-nez dangling from his ear) under her right arm, a leash, with a vehemently resisting huge, black, hairy dog, entwined around her left arm; and a big angry owl sat on the top of what had been a stylish hat before the trip. The owl shouted out quite frantic expressions, some of which I would not like you to hear at all.
     
CHAPTER 22
 
The Examination
 
However, at the front door the company turned quiet and serious (it took time, of course). Upon entering the house Dr. Our Healing Magician lifted his hat and the three guests bowed to us silently. The Doctor asked to wash his hands, adjusted his pince-nez and headed towards our daughter’s room as if he already knew everything in the house. The assistants followed him solemnly.
Inside, he politely, yet decisively, tapped me out of the room, at the same time gesturing to my wife, and, to her greatest surprise, Aunt Minnie as well, to follow me.
I am sorry to admit that I couldn’t help but peek into the keyhole to see what was going on.
I saw how active was Dr. Our Healing Magician during that meticulous examination. He grumbled, griped and groused. He stared, heeded, frowned. He tilted his head, puffed his cheeks, and clicked with his tongue. All the time Mr. Droog—his front paws on the bed—stood still nearby, with Ms. Wisehead sitting on his shoulder. The two assistants, thoroughly concentrating, observed the ceremony, heeding to each detail.
Toward the end, the amazing trinity started exchanging opinions. The doctor, shrugging skeptically, chided, reproved, reproached, and objected to his assistants. He raised his eyes, drew together his eyebrows, and now and then threw brief questions to my daughter. What was he saying?
I was unable to make it out.
     
CHAPTER 23
 
Council of the Trinity
 
Having finished the examination, Dr. Our Healing Magician moved over to the table.
For several endless minutes he was sitting silently, absorbed in thought. With his eyes squinting, he looked now at his assistants, now at the ceiling, then at the walls and the floor—all the while sifting an old tune through his silver moustache.
At last, he rubbed his small hands, sighed with relief, and the three of them started a discussion. At one point, Dr. Our Healing Magician turned his head back and threw a long, musing gaze through the door, behind which we all were waiting impatiently for his decision. For a moment, his eyes flashed mischievously, and smiling, he leaned over the table and wrote a short prescription.
Having looked at his face, I sighed with relief as well. The expression was so candid that I was able to read it easily, and the first word of it was HOPE.
Then the company reopened the discussion. Finally, Ms. Loyally Wisehead took over the pen and wrote something briefly on the doctor’s paper. No objection followed. Then the unbelievable trio left the room solemnly, the way they entered in.
     
CHAPTER 24
 
The Disease of the Unburgeoned Soul
 
The good Doctor started straightforwardly. “Here is my prescription,” he said, and laid it on the table.
I glanced askance and noticed a couple of drugs and a brief recommendation written in old, fancy, elegant handwriting.
“Your daughter is ill, and rather seriously. You may have not known it, but every human being goes through this disease once during his lifetime. Usually it occurs in early childhood. The illness manifests itself as a passionate desire to see everybody happy, healthy, and immortal. There is nothing wrong with that. Nevertheless, certain measures must be undertaken, particularly with children, otherwise the consequences might be dire, and the disease incurable. One would not find a word about this disease in medical literature. There isn’t even a name for it. Nevertheless, the condition is very familiar to me, and there is a way to help. I call it the disease of the unburgeoned soul.”
     
CHAPTER 25
 
The Prescription
(The written part)
 
“Firstly, I will give the girl my drugs. I prepare them myself. All of them are based on extractions from herbs, minerals, some parts of animals. They are effective drugs, and are not harmful. She needs them to restore her physical and mental health. The amount I am leaving will suffice for a complete session. Yet,” he paused and cleared his throat mildly, “there are some other things about Alla’s mood and spirit. I am about to approach the main point of my treatment, and I want you to listen to me attentively. From now on, only you, or more precisely, your parental love, will be able to save your daughter’s life.”
     
CHAPTER 26
 
The Prescription
(The oral part)
 
“Let me share with you some knowledge that I have acquired about the nature of the disease. The concept I am about to present is a hard one to swallow. People customarily believe that they all are humans just by birth. It is not necessarily so. They are creatures—animals, to be precise. That’s a hard word, isn’t it? Only one who possesses a soul is a human.
“The soul is the only thing distinguishing people from animals, plants, and minerals. See it as a seed, a subtle tiny seed, planted into our hearts at birth. The time comes for the seed to grow and blossom to become a frangible beautiful flower. Unfortunately, and I emphasize this, it is the point where people fail.
“With the seed planted, I think of parents as being a diligent farmer, tending every tree as a child to help it blossom abundantly in spring and reap a gratifying crop later. Now, it is your daughter’s springtime, yet her priceless soul is rotting unattended. You, her parents, neglected to fulfill the job. You have never let your child wander into the miraculous world of fairy tales. You were afraid that the miracle and pain of that world would hurt her heart. It would, but it would also let dignity and compassion saturate her heart with the juice of life to let the seed bloom. All the smart books you have read to your child and the knowledge you have shared with her did not do that.” Dr. Our Healing Magician paused. “It is too bad. And now, an unusually acute form of this disease demands an unusual treatment.”
At that moment he raised his voice and finished meaningfully, enunciating each word, “You must bring to your daughter a-never-ever-heard fairy tale.” He paused again, looked up at us intently, and then smiled kindly. “Good luck to you.”
Against my will, I admitted to myself that at his age Dr. Our Healing Magician had a complete set of perfect teeth.
What followed was an awkward silence.
     
CHAPTER 27
 
Nothing Unusual
 
Should I tell you, my faithful reader, how greatly disappointed I was?
“Is that all?” I asked. (I admit I was not quite polite.)
“Yes, it is. What else? It is quite enough, and it is just what she needs,” said Dr. Our Healing Magician and picked up his hat.
I said a listless “Thank you” and shook his hand. He bade leave to us, and the triad disappeared behind the door. Aunt Minnie hurriedly followed them to give them a ride. My wife and I were looking at each other, not knowing what to say and how to comprehend the occurrence.
“Well, let’s do it,” uttered my wife (she was more satisfied than I), helping me to restore my balance and my calmness.
The next moment, after a short absence, Aunt Minnie came back. We stared at her, as if asking with our eyes: has anything else unusual happened?
She shrugged and said, “Everything is ok, although… Well, I don’t know…”
Now I voiced my next question, “Would you please explain to us what is the ‘ok’ that you don’t know?”
“Yes, yes,” she replied stuttering. “Eve-eve-ry-thing is ok-ke-key—noth-thing unusual. They were not in need of our horse. As a matter of fact, they were not in need of any horse at all. They disappeared... simply vanished, and it was it—nothing unusual.”
“You are right, Aunt Minnie,” I echoed her words, “there’s nothing unusual.”
     
CHAPTER 28
 
Act, If You Can Help
 
Aunt Minnie accepted all the recommendations with a profound confidence, unlike my wife and me; she did not share our doubts, obviously.
For half an hour I pondered over the incident. I came to the conclusion that my sadness was caused by my excessive expectations. But in reality everything seemed much easier now. Why not? I decided that in two—at the most three—hours in a library, I might be able to carry out the Dr. Our Healing Magician’s most odd prescription.
That expectation did not live long. You can imagine easily, how great my vexation was after I realized that every single book of fairy tales in the library had been read and reread a host of times.
The very same day I took a train to the state library. The result was the same and for the same reason. I asked the librarian to request the Library of Congress. However, when she grasped the purpose of my research, she expressed doubt that in the whole world such a book existed. She explained that had I ever found an unread fairy tale, there would always be the factor that that book had already been read by, at least, its editor and proofreader. Besides, she thought, it was hard to believe, that the author deprived himself of the pleasure to read it to his friends and relatives. What did make sense under the given circumstances was, in her opinion, to ask a writer to purposely make up such a fairy tale for my daughter.
It was a great idea. That day and the day after, I sent telegrams to the best writers of the world, begging them for help; I placed my plea in the largest newspapers of our country.
In a couple of days I began getting responses. Each reply sounded much like another: “I, So-and-so would be glad to help but…” The “buts” varied, promising no hope.
To my chagrin, I realized that the piles of fairy tales had been sent to us by young authors and other good Samaritans were essentially variations of existing ones. One world renowned writer finalized my agony by putting in plain words: “That to create a new fairy tale, probably, is the most challenging request for any author; and it is merely impossible to make up a fairy tale at your will. The inspiration comes if it will. When? Why? How? Who knows…”
     
CHAPTER 29
 
A New Lead
 
With that message in my hand I returned home and fell into a chair absolutely exhausted and endlessly hopeless. My wife and Aunt Minnie, who meanwhile were reading to Alla the best fairy tales of the world, came out to me. My wife took the telegram and read it aloud.
“It is the end,” I said mournfully. “I’ve exhausted all thinkable opportunities. The professionals cannot help us. The amateurs are unable. There is no sense to ask old people: each tale they know was heard by them from someone older. There is no help.”
“Wait a minute, my nephew. It’s clear to me that you applied not enough attention when our dearest doctor asked for that,” noticed Aunt Minnie, drawing together the flames of her eyebrows.
“What do you mean, Aunt Minnie?” asked my wife. “We have followed the advice precisely, haven’t we?”
I shrugged in support, and Aunt Minnie turned to me, “Obviously, you have missed something, my dear. Don’t grow angry, please. Let’s recall each word. Where is the prescription?”
I pulled it out from the drawer and handed it to the woman, “Ok, Aunt Minnie, here it is. Show us, please, what have we missed?”
“Look here,” said Aunt Minnie excitedly, “don’t you see that?”
She pointed out the last line. Originally, I think it was, the word “find.” The word was scratched out, and above it, in horrible paw-writing, was scribbled the word “meet.” “You must MEET for your daughter a-never-ever-heard fairy tale.”
   
 
CHAPTER 30
 
Back Into Childhood
 
At that moment I endured a terrible headache. I realized that something tremendously important was hidden in the word, but what?
“Please explain to us, what does it mean?” I asked.
Aunt Minnie smiled. “Have you forgotten my grandmother, Haya? She was your great-grandmother.”
“No, of course not, but…”
“You still remember the lullabies she used to sing us every night, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, but…”
“Be polite please, my nephew. Use a bit of patience, listen, please. What would she tell us before the lullabies?” insisted Aunt Minnie.
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute… Before the lullabies she used to tell us a fairy tale or a fancy story or an enchanting fable...”
“And every day a new one, remember?” injected my Aunt.
“Yes, yes. You’re right. I even recall to my memory how I asked her once, where did she get them. I still visualize her mischievous smile and the answer that she… that… uhm, I am not sure…” I was hesitating to bring out her words.
“Yet I’m sure, and well enough. She said that she would go to the Glade of Fairy Tales in the Enchanted Forest, and pick some of the tales up there.”
“Again?” I was frustrated. “I’ve enough to deal with. I don’t believe that stuff anymore. I’m a grown and educated man, I don’t believe in those things any longer. It must be something else, something besides all of these fantasies.”
Aunt Minnie glanced at me with anger, “Unfortunately, my dear, I can offer you nothing else. If I were the man of the house, I would have been harnessing the horse already.”
I glanced at my wife. Her eyes were brimming up with tears. I sighed. Without a word more, I took a lantern, hung a flask with fresh water onto my belt and picked up a wooden stick. When I wandered off, it was around 4:00pm. The day was warm, and the sky was cloudless.
     
CHAPTER 31
 
Was it a Good Sign?
 
The horse took me quickly out of the town. I passed Dr. Our Healing Magician’s house, which, as always, looked newly painted. There was no movement around, the house was quiet. Yet, close to the Enchanted Forest I did meet Dr. Our Healing Magician and his associates, returning home. Upon my approach the doctor stepped aside, lifted his hat, and gave me an approving smile. Mr. Genuine Droog rose on his hind paws, and barking, waved at me with his paw. Ms. Loyally Wisehead was sitting on a branch hanging over the roadway. She hooted me good luck and winked at me with her huge yellow eyes. I replied by taking off my hat and nodding to every one respectively.
     
CHAPTER 32
 
The Enchanted Forest
 
I left my horse on the outskirts of the Enchanted Forest, picked up my things, and immersed myself into the green universe. With my first step inside, the weather started changing. I was surrounded by a weird silence. Soon it was broken by a strong wind rushing through the trees raising a mournful hum. Then a biting cold fell down and embraced me. The sky was getting darker and in a short while it became as gloomy as midnight.
There was neither a light to lead, nor a kind voice to help. I had to light my lantern. Quite soon I veered away from the chosen direction, but that fact did not disturb me. Anyway, I did not know which way was right, so I kept my pace fast and hoped I was going the right way.
I do not want to hide from you, my little pal, how scary and sometimes eerie it was to stray in a forest at night. My face and body were scratched by tree branches and shrubs, my boots rubbed at my feet. Hundreds, maybe thousands of times I stumbled and fell down, yet each time I stood up and stubbornly forged ahead, exhausted—physically and mentally. But there was no power under heaven that could knock down my spirit. Concern for my family kept me moving.
If you say that you love someone, it means that you are ready to sacrifice. If someone who you love depends on you, you cannot let fears overcome you; you have no right to retreat.
     
CHAPTER 33
 
A Light of Hope
 
There came a moment when I slipped and fell into a deep ditch, sinking the lantern into the water. How I lost my stick, I had no idea. Having crawled out the ditch I felt myself on the verge of collapse. Catching my breath, I leaned against a tree trunk and, and… was that a ray of light? I stared at it in disbelief, but it did not disappear.
It was not one of those luring lights ominously bouncing atop a bottomless bog. On the contrary, it seemed to heartily invite me: “come in… come here… come closer…” The light was weak, but even, quiet and tender—like hope itself.
     
CHAPTER 34
 
A Glade
 
Needless to say, that tiny light restored my strength. I literally stomped over to it. Upon approaching I was able to determine that the flare was actually coming from a Glade, embraced with a heavily dense hedge of trees and tall bushes. I stopped behind a briar bush; I did not want to appear within the Glade unprepared. Unprepared for what, you may ask? I could not say.
I checked myself over. My clothes were rags. The visible parts of my body were scratched up and covered with caked blood and mud. My face… I could only imagine how awful I looked. While uncertain what to do, I peered into the Glade, where lo! a divine beauty was unfolding stately in front of my eyes.
     
CHAPTER 35
 
I Find the Place
 
There was still dark night around me: the sky slept under a heavy comforter of sullen clouds. There was not a star in sight.
In the Glade, against all reason, the sun seemed only just rising; and now it was busy, overflowing this green cup with a sparkling wine of its life-granting light. Everything appeared unusual in its own way. Even the air itself was soaked with an expectation of something kind and majestic.
On my left hand, a creek, babbling sweetly, was running through the Glade. It emerged from under the roots of a giant oak tree and disappeared somewhere in the density of the bushes and reeds. The air was embroidered with cheerful singing of numerous birds mixed with a low humming of the laborious insects. Sunrays lovingly caressed each twig, flower, and blade of grass—in fact, every dweller of the Glade. The clouds, as if intentionally, carefully by-passed that magnificent circle.
The powerful scent, coming from the Glade, made me dizzy and timid. In front of me opened a new and strange world, both luring and frightening. I could hear the chatting incoming from the Glade. I understood the words, and that did not surprise me. A crazy thought crossed my mind. The thought was so fantastic, yet so desirable, that I was afraid to believe it. I gazed into the Glade for a long time.
“Of course,” whispered I, “how could one be mistaken about that?”
I saw trees, flowers, shrubs, insects and animals; every being of the Glade was alive. And they were talking, chanting, arguing, whispering, and laughing—just like people.
Where did I get the ability to understand their language? I have no idea, but I did, and it came to me so naturally, so easily. There was no doubt: in front of me lay the Glade of Fairy Tales.
How about that, my little chum?!
     
CHAPTER 36
 
A New Acting Face
 
I was almost ready to emerge from my hideout, when to my right, a large brier flower, closed for night, started tilting and swaying somehow unnaturally and without any obvious cause. It suddenly opened up, thudding loudly.
I turned my head at the sound, and would you believe me, out of the petals appeared a bald, rosy human head. You just imagine that, my little friend: a flower, inside which, as if in a hotel room, a gentleman of a small size spent a night? The man was old, yet agile. How tall was he? I would say the size of your pinky.
When the petals unfolded, I couldn’t take my eyes off of his attire. I wish you could only have a glimpse at it. No, I cannot resist describing for you that wardrobe, and you, my dear reader, could draw or paint it, as you wish.
     
CHAPTER 37
 
Something about Fashion
 
Let me start with his shiny shoes (it is the way I extract a picture of that remarkable man out of my memory). The shoes were red-yellow bulb-toed on high heels, with a thick sole, and decorated with large butterfly-like bows. Each bow boasted a silver clasp, adorned with sparkling large brilliants.
Upward from the shoes, climbed horizontally multi-colored striped stockings, girded beneath the knees with wide-winged bows with sizable diamond pins at their center.
Next, the breeches. Oh, the breeches! They were magnificent, dark violet velvet, splashing out fire-like glitters. Three gold and gemstone buckles, immersed into lush bows (on the belt and under the knees), secured the old man’s breeches.
Move your eyes up and you will see a long sleeved shirt, whiter than snow and laced all over. Of course, as you would already expect, great diamond fibulas encircled by ribbons fastened the cufflinks.
There was a laced collar too. I use the word “lace” for lack of a better word. Actually, it was a white mist intertwined with a frozen rain of golden and black beads in the shape of those airy collars you can see on the pictures by the Old Masters. A showy gemmed brooch inside the lace-bow propped the collar, spilling cascades of sparkles on the gentleman’s vest.
The dark crimson vest was gleaming with large golden buttons: two on the front, vertically, one on each chest and side pockets, and two horizontally on the half-belt behind.
What amazed me even more, was that the outfit appeared freshly washed and ironed. Recollecting the fabric, I still can sense its delicate texture and aroma, so I am quite sure that the outfit of the gentleman was tailored from flower petals.
     
CHAPTER 38
 
An Amazing Resemblance
 
The old gentleman looked in a dewdrop at his reflection and grimaced discontentedly. Here momentarily a mantis-barber flew down and in no time gave the old man a shave. A beetle tilted a leaf above letting the man wash his face and hands. Several butterflies circled around to dry his face and hands. Another beetle arrived to comb his hair. The old man looked again in the “mirror” and bowing, thanked everybody.
When I had a chance to see the little man’s face better, I had sensation that I had already seen him somewhere.
His was a remarkable head. It was big—massive, like a rock polished over millenniums. The plump, rosy face was surrounded with a silver beard, linked to a thin stripe of cropped silver hair around the bottom of his head. The forehead was clear and high. Shrewd eyes under the bushy silver eyebrows were bright, deep, intelligent, and a little bit canny. The round nose was suspiciously reddish. The mouth boasted a full set of perfect teeth.
That fact and many others awakened my memory. I could almost swear that the familiar gentleman was a carbon copy of Dr. Our Healing Magician, with certain adjustments, like the beard, the lack of a pince-nez; and different attire.
     
CHAPTER 39
 
Good Morning, Your Majesty
 
The old man picked up his collapsible top-hat and tossed it up. I bet you already know how it was decorated. Having drawn a gracious curve, the hat on the way down stopped at the briar. The old man got onto it, and the hat landed him on the bank of the creek. The old gentleman got out and gallantly bowed to each side, saying: good morning, how do you do, glad to see you, wish you the best and so on, and so on…
The following response was enthusiastic.
“Good morning, good morning, the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales!” spilled the birds joyfully from the sky.
“It’s so nice to see you again,” a low voiced reply came from a gooseberry bush on that side.
“Your Majesty, come to us again soon,” was heard from a slim pine on the other side.
“We wish you a great day, Your Highness,” sang the flowers from beneath.
Everyone hurried to welcome the old gentleman, who obviously enjoyed the popularity.
“Our dearest and honorable guest, Your Majesty the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales,” thundered the Giant Oak, “on behalf of the dwellers of the Glade I heartily thank you for this visit and for sharing with us your newly acquired treasures. We will impatiently wait for your next visit. Thank you and have a safe trip.”
His Majesty the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales was obviously moved. He thanked all the inhabitants again and promised to be back soon.
Smiling and whistling a tune he took a reed leaf and tossed it up. Then he pulled out from his chest pocket a colorful wand and tapped the descending leaf. Upon touching the water, the leaf turned into an elegant slender boat. The Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales stepped into the boat and as it rocked  His Majesty dropped the wand into the fast current. Unusually agile for his age, His Majesty fished the thing out and carefully shook it, making sure that each drop fell back into the creek.
     
CHAPTER 40
 
Goodbye, Your Majesty
 
Despite the precautions, His Majesty the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales failed to notice that one drop bounced to a nut bush, spreading its branches widely over the water. The drop leaped from leaf to leaf, rolled down into a crevice of one and hid.
Meantime, gesticulating with the wand as an orchestra conductor would, His Majesty picked up a spider hanging down from a twig and put him on the boat’s bow. Another wave of the wand and several dragon-flies circled over the spider. The spider emitted a bundle of cobwebs harnessing the fast horses. Then he shook the reins; the dragonflies sped up their wings and… and the boat, the spider, reining the dragonflies, and their master disappeared… vanished... into the blue.
     
CHAPTER 41
 
The Despair
 
As if petrified, I didn’t move a muscle. I was devastated. What had I done? In front of me, at the arm length I had His Majesty the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales himself, but I failed to speak out.
You see, my little listener, the moment he took that small wand out of his pocket, I realized that it was a magic one. I knew it, and I, of course, was aware of its mightiness. Was I in shock? Why hadn’t I spoken? Had I been enchanted or maybe bewitched? I was so overwhelmed with all the activity being unfolded in the Glade that I failed to help my dearest daughter. I shamefully neglected my responsibility. And now did it matter the cause? I had no right to make such a blunder.
On the other hand, the entire scene rolled by so quickly. To be precise, everything—from the opening of the brier bud to the dragonflies pulling the boat away—flew by in several short minutes. However, I still had no excuse, and did not look for any. The failure was unforgivable. What could I do now?
     
CHAPTER 42
 
The Stubborn Wind
 
Pondering over the problem, I detected with the corner of my eye that a young wind emerged from the opposite side of the Glade, glittering with long silver hair. He headed straight to the bush where the drop, escaped from the magic wand, was hiding. Obviously, he somehow knew that it was there.
The silver wind flew through the bush shattering the branches, but nothing came out of it.
The entire Glade was observing his efforts in silence.
He waved his wings towards the bush, making it sway wildly. Again nothing happened.
“I know you are here!” exclaimed the wind excitedly, “Come on out.” He ran the Glade around, gaining speed and stretching out his shiny wings, and ripped through all the bushes along the creek, raising a green tempest. As a result, something like a star, tiny, yet extremely bright, sparkled out from a leaf. It was the drop the wind was looking for. Forced by the vehement rocking, the drop rolled down and shivered at the verge of the leaf, as if avoiding the fall; yet, the next moment it plummeted down. Upon hitting the water the drop scattered into a zillion glinting beads, spreading a pellucid shiny mist.
Unwillingly, I closed my eyes. Upon opening, I detected a foggy spot inside the mist. Peering into it, I was witnessing the developing appearance of an amazing heavenly creature out of that formless, chaotic cloud. She was a young lady dressed up in a fabulous gown with a vast weightless train, both sparkling and sprinkled with billions of lights.
The beauty of the maid, her posture, the manners, each gesture, those marvelous eyes, the swan-like neck, gleaming skin, and every other feature presented a young goddess.
     
CHAPTER 43
 
The Fairy of Dew
 
“Look. Look over there!” excitedly exclaimed the entire Glade. “It is the Fairy of Dew! Do you see her? Oh, how beautiful she is! Welcome to our Glade, Fairy.”
“Good morning! How are you! How do you do! Visit us! Welcome!” all sorts of greetings were coming from every direction, interrupting each other in a hurry to attract Fairy’s attention.
Stunned by the unusual picture, I forgot about everything else again. Being unable to say a word, I was afraid to scare that fantastic vision that was flowing before my eyes.
Fairy replied to no one. She behaved as if there was no one around. Singing a wordless tune, Fairy carelessly began circling the Glade just above the grass and flowers. From time to time, she stepped onto some, but not one even sagged under her feet, so light was she.
“Hey, Silver Wings, where are you?” called Fairy, the young prankster.
“At your service, my beautiful master,” answered the youngster, who followed her all the time.
“Come, dance with me. Look, how beautiful every thing is around here.”
They both were laughing happily. The Fairy of Dew picked up the hem of her dress and they both circled about the Glade, like a whirl of light, youth, and happiness. The dress train flew behind them flapping up and down like a beautiful bird with translucent wet feathers. And the flight of this glittering constellation left upon everyone a pure star of water, filled up with magnificent lights. Every plant (a flower, blade of grass, leaf, and twig) asked and received a crystal drop of dew.
Losing the water, Fairy was turning paler, more translucent, and even lighter. It seemed that a little longer and she would cease to exist at all, dissolving her beauty into the surrounding world.
     
CHAPTER 44
 
Let’s Fly Away
 
Fortunately, something quite the opposite happened. Fairy flew up to the creek and immersed into it the fringe of her dress. At once all the lost features were back. And amazingly, she became even more beautiful than before.
“Oh, the Fairy of Dew, how majestic is your charm! You beauty smashes hearts without touching them,” claimed Mr. Cup-of-Flame the Tulip.
“From now on solely for you, only because of you, my songs I sing,” exclaimed Sir Rainbow-Feather the Oriole.
“The light of your eyes awoke my dreams with rays of hope and admiration,” acknowledged young Wave-of-Joy the Monarch Butterfly.
“Oh, Fairy, a child of dream and a dream yourself,” complained Sir Joyful-Arch the Rainbow, “my eyes and my heart are in a fearsome dispute. Silly, my servants, they want my enchanted brain to judge for them who loves you better. Alas, as if it were possible.”
Eventually, there was no heart on the Glade that could resist the beauty of the Fairy of Dew. Yet, she herself, like the crystals of her dew, remained calm, cold, and passionless. A civil smile, expressing neither love nor hatred, was her only response.
Having got bored at the Glade, Fairy called angrily, “Hey, Silver Wings, come here. Where are you?”
The obedient wind flew by. “I am here, my charming potentate, at your feet. I am happy to be at your service, the Queen of my heart. What is your wish? Command, I am waiting…”
“I feel like flying, Silver Wings, flying high! Fast! Away! Far, far, far away…”
“Yes, oh my adorable master,” nodded Silver Wings joyfully.
He soared up into the sky and returned with a plump cloud in his palm.
“Hi, everybody. It’s very nice to meet you all. My name is Miss Playful-Fluffy the Cloud. I am a good girl. You may call me simply Fluffy, if you wish. I am a good cloud, too. And I know that you are the Fairy of Dew, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” smiled Fairy. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Shall we fly?”
“Yes—let’s fly!” Playful-Fluffy agreed cheerfully.
Fairy settled down onto Playful-Fluffy the Cloud. Silver Wings pushed the girls into the shiny sky and the noisy company vanished in much the same way as His Majesty the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales a short time before—vanished the way they came: too swiftly and too unexpectedly.
 
 CHAPTER 45
 
Another Failure
 
For the second time that day, I had lost a fairy tale. A fairy tale that was here, nearby, at this Glade, only several short steps away from me…
It had become obvious that something odd was going on. My behavior was unacceptable. I was doing everything awkwardly. I had to stop, change, whatever… I knew I must act. Now!
I decisively stepped forward from behind the brier bush. However, whether was it because of the bitterness in my heart, or due to some other reason, as soon as I stepped into the Glade it changed drastically. Still it was the same place; the same trees, flowers, birds. Every single thing was like before and at the same time irretrievably different.
Now, it was just one more Glade in the forest.
     
CHAPTER 46
 
A Stranger
 
Apparently, my unexpected appearance was unwelcome and scared away the miracle that animated the soul of that world. For some reason that world only accepted me as a stranger. It did not trust me. I recalled the doctor’s  advice, and sadly lowered my head. What should I do?
I tiredly staggered towards the creek. It did not tinkle anymore. Now it was a creek like many forest creeks. I rinsed my face, drank, filled up my flask, and walked back. I did not think about the direction: I did not even care where I was walking and why. Bitter sadness squeezed my heart.
Standing idly behind the bush, doing nothing, I had betrayed the people dearest to my heart—I, who was their last and only hope. As I was leaving, the air of the Glade was getting thicker and darker. And then, a minute later, after I was again enveloped by a night forest, I was no longer amazed.
Nevertheless, I came out of the Enchanted Forest somewhat easily and precisely where I had left my horse. The time here was just before dawn.
     
CHAPTER 47
 
The Water
 
The town was cuddling under the dusky quilt of the night. I had no light on me, but lucky for me, the familiar “tunes” of Aunt Minnie’s snoring led my horse straight to my house. Inside, I found my tired wife asleep in the chair by the door of our daughter’s room.
Poor dear woman, she was so worn out that my arrival did not awaken her. I entered our daughter’s room. As any sick child, Alla slept nervously, anxiously relentlessly moving her head, arms, and legs. I kissed her on the forehead; it was ablaze. Her breathing was heavy and intermittent.
I opened my flask and watered her dry cracked lips. I also soaked a towel with the creek water and put it onto her forehead. The remaining water I poured into the flowerpot with a wilted violet on the windowsill. Then I sat down in the chair by the bed, where I, against my will, fell asleep.
 
 CHAPTER 48
 
Thanks to God
 
I woke to sobbing and managed to unglue my swollen eyelids. Alla, with her elbows on the windowsill, was standing by the violet, crying, and shaking.
“Why, my sweetheart, what happened? Why are you out of bed? What are you looking at? What scared you out there?” I took her into my arms, pressed her against my heart, and kissed her on the forehead, “Glory to God!” exclaimed I joyously.
“Would you like to know something, my darling? Your frightening temperature has gone. It has gone… You are not sweating anymore. And the tormenting cough has gone. And your breath is clean as it always was. Of course, you are still extremely weak, yet you look healthy. Oh God, thank you, for saving our daughter!
“Listen, my tender love, stop weeping. There is no reason for tears anymore. We have to wake Mama and Aunt Minnie and we will celebrate. Meanwhile, could you please explain to me what has happened? Was it a shadow of the horse in the yard that scared you?”
“No, Papa, no. I am not scared, and I did not look out the window at all. I was listening to Miss Singing Star, the Violet. And now I feel so much sorrow for the Fairy of Dew and Prince, the Flower, that I cannot help but crying,” sadly answered my daughter in a barely audible voice.
   
CHAPTER 49
 
An Unexpected Continuation
 
In an instant, all the last night’s events flashed through my memory.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, utterly scared. “What about a fairy? And how would you know about her?”
“She told me,” my daughter said, and pointed at the violet on the windowsill. “While you were sleeping, she told me the whole story about what happened after you left the Glade of Fairy Tales.”
Puzzled, I looked at the flower. Since the last time I saw it, the violet now was blossoming, and its petals, sad and beautiful, were wet with little dewdrops, quivering like tears.
     
CHAPTER 50
 
Speaking Flower
 
As well as I could, I calmed my daughter down and had her lie down in the bed again, where she started an incoherent narration.
She spoke in a hurry, missing words and cutting sentences. I could comprehend nothing. Finally, exhausted, she fell asleep, but this time it was a sound and deep sleep of a healthy child.
I returned into my chair, and Miss Singing Star the Violet, retold to me the story. Now you listen to it too, my little friend.


























 

Book 2 
 
         
THE BOOK OF SOUL 

CHAPTER 51
     
The Clouds
 
After Fairy and Playful Fluffy, being carried away by Silver Wings, vanished out of my sight, in a short while the happy triad was separated. Silver Wings got a call and had to leave the happy company for his family business. Disappointed though, the girls continued the carefree surfing of the tempting bluishness of the warm summer sky.
Playful-Fluffy and Fairy fitted each other nicely and liked traveling together. Playful-Fluffy introduced Fairy to her numerous kinfolk, the various tribes of clouds. Two of the kin, who were distant relatives, really fascinated Fairy: Aunt Glorious-Arrow the Lightning, a tall, fleshless moody woman of few words, and her husband, the Thunder, the short and stout Uncle Bong-Bung-Bang.
Uncle was an avid joke collector, which were brought to him by his niece and nephew clouds from various corners of the world. The times when he particularly liked a joke (and he loved all of them), Uncle Bong-Bung-Bang would recite the punch line numerous times, roaring with long loud laughter. The behavior of her husband irritated Aunt Glorious-Arrow the Lightning, as she did not like to watch the furniture moving around the house and she could not stand the trembling roof or to see her favorite dishes falling and cracking. The angry woman would pull out her lightning shards and hurl them at her husband. Uncle Bong-Bung-Bang, the Thunder, paid zero attention and was guffawing even over the top of his lungs.
Uncle’s rumbling shuddered clouds and they dropped down the water they had accumulated. People call it rain, and for some strange reason, are afraid of Uncle Bong Bung-Bang’s harmless laughter.
Fairy liked sliding to the earth riding the raindrop tracks. It was somewhat dangerous, but Fairy did it skillfully.
     
CHAPTER 52
 
Oh, That Cold Heart!
 
Getting tired, Fairy would turn into a dewdrop and spend time inside a cloud, a lake, a flower, or wherever she liked. Thus, riding or flying, surfing or sailing from a brook to a river, from a lake to a sea; soaring to the clouds and descending onto the fields and meadows, the Fairy of Dew wandered aimlessly around the earth, breaking hearts, shredding hopes, yet remaining passionless to the love and anguish of the world. Her heart resembled a dewdrop: clean, clear, beautiful, and… cold.
Eventually, she became acquainted with many sons and daughters of Mother Nature. All the praises to her beauty Fairy accepted as a given. When she was told that someone, like Feather-of-Dream the Swan, was dying from hopeless love for her, she would angrily shrug her shoulders and laugh snobbishly.
If she happened to see an entangled butterfly begging from a cobweb to help her out, Fairy would grow furious, and complain that the only purpose of all those unhappy pleas and admonitions was to take joy away from her life.
The incomparable singer, Twilight Charm the Nightingale, tried in vain to capture her attention with his heavenly songs, which he filled up with the glorifying love of his soul. For the failure he blamed only himself. In his last song he bitterly accused the art that he’d devoted his life to, that it was unable to raise his tunes to the height of his beloved’s beauty. Having lost any hope, he broke his voice; and no one ever saw him after that.
A great poet, Loving-Heart the Lark, avowed to her, “O dazzling Fairy, before having encountered your dreamlike eyes I was an almighty proud master of every word in my country, Poetry. Now, ashamed, I have to confess that there is no word in the vocabularies that would be able to match up to your incomparable beauty.” Seeking inspiration, he attempted to ask the sun. Ascending higher and higher he burned up his heart and breathless fell to the ground.
Crowned-Giant, the Mountain, acknowledged, “My celestial Fairy, the charm of charms; your glance, your voice, your gait, your every feature separately and all together have melted my stony heart. At my uncountable age I am still a youngster peak. During my life I have seen all kinds of beauty (at least, I had thought so), until your image enslaved my imagination. I do not believe anymore that there is a soul in the world who would dare to resist the power of your magnetizing beauty. Go, Fairy. One cannot stop beauty without love. Your departure sentences me to the immensity of my life without you, without any hope… Farewell, oh my heartless and glorious darling.”
A very bizarre opinion was expressed by Mr. Flying-Thought, the Owl, a world renowned philosopher, “Beauty exists to better the world. If that does not happen, we either have no beauty or use a wrong word.”
Every one picked up the phrase, but only few were able to explain it.
 
 
 
CHAPTER 53
 
A Brief Note From The Author
 
I know how impolite it is to talk about anyone behind his back, but I cannot help but let you know that there was a widespread rumor that Fairy’s indifference was explained by the lack of a soul.
When that gossip finally reached her, she frowned in dismay and said: “So what? Who knows what the soul is? If they say I don’t have it, fine. I feel great anyway.”
 
 CHAPTER 54
 
A Guard of a Few Words
 
One day, Playful-Fluffy and Fairy came across another mountain, which happened to be quite a curious one. The mountain was tall; tall enough that when our companions attempted to fly it over, they couldn’t make it. Then the girls attempted to find a roundabout way, as they ordinarily did under similar circumstances. However, this time, to their surprise, they returned back to the point where they had started. Wasn’t that funny? In front of them lay a giant stony ring.
“Can you think where we are?” asked Playful-Fluffy grinning skeptically at Fairy.
“I have no idea. Where are we?”
“This wall’s name is Mrs. Ring Lock, the Mountain,” said Playful-Fluffy. Doesn’t that ring a bell? Not yet? Ok, just you wait. You will see something...” She looked around and beckoned a strong wind, which was flying past, “Sir Space Spear, would you be so kind as to carry us inside this stony ring please.”
“You are not allowed inside,” said Mrs. Ring Lock sternly, frowning at Playful-Fluffy. “You are too cold.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” apologized Playful-Fluffy. “I know what you mean.” She shook thoroughly and off fell all the hail, snow, and ice that was stuck in her garment. “Am I ok now?” she asked.
Mrs. Ring Lock observed her suspiciously, yet she did not object.
“Thank you very much,” said Playful-Fluffy, and looking humbly at the mountain, asked again, “Now, Mr. Space Spear, carry us over the wall please.”
“I can do that,” agreed the wind; and so he did.
     
CHAPTER 55
 
The Flower Valley
 
Behind the wall Playful-Fluffy and the Fairy of Dew observed a spacious, sort of round-shaped valley. A translucent creek, similar to the one at the Glade of Fairy Tales, crossed one side of the valley. However, there was not a tree there. Instead, the flowers, each one more gorgeous than the other, grew and bloomed creating a colorful ocean of unbelievable beauty. Some of the flowers lived as high as the snow line on the chest of Mrs. Ring-Lock the Mountain.
“Now you know where we are my dear Dew, don’t you?” smiled Playful-Fluffy.
“No, I still don’t,” denied a perplexed Fairy, frowning.
“Well, my dear friend,” said Playful-Fluffy ceremonially, “let me announce: I welcome Your Divinity into the Flower Valley! Now, look down. Does not the picture resemble a city, where the citizens are flowers and every house is built from plants?”
“Oh yes, now I see! You are definitely right. How interesting it is—and so magnificent. I, to tell you the truth, have been yearning so long to get into the valley. I have heard so many fascinating things about this place,” confessed Fairy. “And now when I am here, I wonder… Somewhere there must be Prince, the Flower—the handsomest flower in the world. It is he whose heart I would like to conquer more than anybody’s. But wait, here he is. Look!”
 
 CHAPTER 56
 
First Acquaintances
 
Fairy left her friend and descended towards a large luxurious flower, proudly rocking in the center of the Flower Valley. The flower’s eyelids were half-way down, as if he was dozing.
“Good morning,” said Fairy softly. “How do you do?”
The flower did not move his head; only his lips twisted slightly. Was it a kind response or an expression of discontent? It was impossible to say.
Many flowers were observing the scene, grinning in a friendly way.
“So, my icy beauty, have you fallen in love already?” observed an old daisy, Mrs. White Sun.
“Ha-ha, nonsense,” Fairy said angrily.
“Isn’t he handsome?” questioned Mrs. White Sun raising her eyebrows.
“Yes, Madam, definitely. Never in my life have I seen a flower more voluptuous,” agreed Fairy.
“Well. You have just acknowledged that you are in love with him, and good for you. It is the end of your infamous jumps around the globe, ruining hearts,” gloated Mrs. Soft Smile, coldly, a middle-aged Hydrangea. She proudly looked around, seeking support.
“No, Mrs. Hydrangea,” responded Fairy, “you’ve got it all wrong. Firstly and truthfully, I do not know what love is. Secondly, this unfamiliar flower is highly splendid, indeed… But, look at him. He is an accomplished snob! His pompousness is so grotesque. Plus, he is such a bore. Not a word all this time. What’s wrong with him? You tell him, Madam, that his indifference is arrogant. His silence speaks louder than his tongue: ‘nobody is worthy of my attention. I am the best.’ He never looked at me. Pooh, what a snooty creature. Is he your famous Prince, the Flower? I do not know. I would never fall in love with such an egotist. I do not even want to be introduced to him.”
“No, my dear, you are mistaken again and again. What kind of a prince is he?” quietly smiled Mr. Tender Touch, the Lilac. “He is many times the champion of our annual beauty contest. So Prince offered him this honorable place. Our dearest Prince the Flower lives o-o-over there. Can you see the steep rock? You know what, girls? Why don’t you follow us, please? Myself and Mrs. Scarlet Splash the Peony, will see you to the palace where Madam Scarlet Splash, a court dame, will introduce you both to the court. If Prince is not very busy, he will accept you today. You are going to admire him, you will see. It is just impossible not to love him. To us he is the most admirable flower on the earth. So hurry up. I am sure that the court has heard of your arrival and is already waiting for new guests.”
 
 CHAPTER 57
 
The First Reception
 
From far away, in the least hospitable corner of the Flower Valley, Fairy and Playful-Fluffy spotted a fascinating construction. Having come closer, they realized that it was a palace and an unusual one at that. The elegant building was constructed purely from petals and smelled amazingly.
At the time of Fairy and Playful-Fluffy’s arrival there was an open cabinet meeting. Prince glanced at the newcomers, nodded respectfully, and by a gesture invited Fairy and Playful-Fluffy to join the public.
After Fairy saw Prince the Flower, she felt disillusioned: such an unimpressive and mediocre person he appeared to her. Of course, as she had heard, he was tall, robust, and well developed physically. What else? He was obviously elegant and courteous. He was dressed very becomingly as well.
During the discussion she found out how he was clever and knowledgeable. As Playful-Fluffy pointed out later, he exhibited graceful manners and good humor; a sharp, but not abusive wit.
They both agreed that from the very beginning it was obvious to everyone that kindness was his prime quality. He radiated it, literally. But was he handsome? Definitely not. The champion they had met in the morning was much better looking.
The following introduction disappointed Fairy.
To start with, it happened to be short—too short. In spite of this, later on Fairy could not but admit that Prince was polite and courteous. Nevertheless, to all Fairy’s surprise, without any obvious reason whatsoever, in the depths of her icy heart appeared a small crack.
So, what was it about the reception? Upon their approaching, Prince rose from his throne to meet the new guests at the half-way point, greeting them warmly and graciously. Prince offered them chairs, asked some common and proper questions. He admitted the Fairy’s beauty and the gracefulness of Playful-Fluffy, and… and the next moment His Majesty was called away to handle some emerged problems. Excusing himself, Prince promised to be back shortly. However, he didn’t return; instead, his secretary, Sir Clear Sense, the Dahlia, came out to apologize on behalf of Prince for his busyness and to say goodbye. He offered the girls invitations to the next official reception and ball.
 
 CHAPTER 58
 
Fairy is Angry
 
That night, before the two girls parted, they stopped on the bank of Mrs. Singing Splash the Creek. Do you think that Fairy was infuriated? You bet!
“Do not argue with me,” she told Playful-Fluffy, although the cloud said no word and even did not intend to. “Tomorrow we are leaving, forever. It was humiliating. He showed no respect. He was the first male on the earth to pay no attention to me.” Playful-Fluffy smiled benevolently. “What are you grinning about?” Fairy asked, grumpily.
“Sorry, I don’t agree with you,” replied Fluffy. “After observing his eyes and the expression of his face, and seeing his gaze following your every gesture, I have a lot to say, but I will wait…”
“Tomorrow there will be nothing to wait for,” said Fairy decisively, lying down to sleep inside of the hospitable water lily, Mrs. Floating Dream. “Goodnight!”
“Goodnight,” nodded Playful-Fluffy. She paused, and then added, “I want you to think it over, what Prince said at the parting.”
“Never,” threw back Fairy, angrily.
   
 CHAPTER 59
 
A Sleepless Night
 
Never… It is easier said than done. Too many unanswered questions were knocking on the Fairy’s heart persistently. Something unpredictable had happened. Why was it? What was it? All the endless night Fairy was indeed trying to re-enact every detail of the brief meeting to find a word, a gesture—any minute detail, which had escaped her attention. What did it all mean?
“Was it like that?” she was asking herself.
“Here… He is coming. Closer. A step more. I can see his face now clear. His lips are pale. His tense face is colorless. He looks nervous or afraid of… what? Beads of feverish sweat are upon his forehead and his upper lip. Why? Is he timid… shy… unaware? But what’s going on with me? My heart is pounding like a hammer. Here, he elevates his eyes. Oh, his eyes… those tender inquisitors. They look at me and they are overfilled with such open … sheer… such… What unfamiliar sensation is this!? Never in my life have I felt so embarrassed. Prince bows his head; he stretches towards me his trembling arm and invites me…
“What’s going on… Oh my God, I cannot understand what he is talking about, but I am ready to follow him whenever he would ask me. I lay my hand into his. Oh my goodness, why am I trembling!? What’s happening to me? A host of new feelings have awakened suddenly in my heart. They are cold and they are hot, they are fast and powerful, they are scary and… desirable, I don’t understand. Am I sick?
“Now, Prince holds my hand. He holds it as a fragile masterpiece. He is carrying my hand to his lips. Suddenly he pauses, just for a fleeting moment. Did anyone else notice it!? It appears as a struggle between desire and etiquette, and I’m able to read it in his eyes. ‘Put her hand against your heart,’ asks the desire; ‘No,’ protests etiquette, ‘It is against the rules.’ Finally, Prince kisses my hand, and I hear his low and warm voice: ‘If a Beauty possesses a soul, it would be my fortune to be a humble slave of the Beauty.’
“The next minute an adjutant approaches us. He whispers to Prince, then the Prince apologizes. He takes leave of us and hurries somewhere. Could it be what people call love? No, I don’t think so. How strange it all was anyway. Very strange…”
Unwillingly, Fairy voiced the latter words. Several fish approached the lily, checking for a cause of the middle night disturbance. Having found nothing wrong, they swam back discussing the day’s reception.
“Could the Fairy fall in love with our Prince?” “Maybe.” “Unfortunately, Fairy doesn’t know what love is.”
(“Silly fish.” It is my, the author’s voice, you hear now, “and poor Fairy.” Of course, there is only one word in the world for such feeling. However, the word was not uttered. Fairy had not known it yet, and Prince, in his admiration… Prince seemed to forget all words at all. I am sorry, my dear reader, for interrupting the Fairy’s memory. Let’s follow it again.)
“So, actually, it is what it is—nothing more. No matter what Fluffy speculates there is nothing to think about. That boor dared to insinuate that I have no so-called soul, which is either a lie, or means that I am not a beauty. And that is enough.”
Having come to such a conclusion, Fairy still couldn’t fall asleep. Something else of higher significance was hidden in Prince’s words; she could not help but sense it, but had not been ready to recognize it.
The next morning neither of the girlfriends mentioned a word about the Fairy’s decision yesterday to leave. It was as if it had never been expressed.
 
 
 CHAPTER 60
 
First Disagreement
 
In no time Fairy and Playful-Fluffy got accustomed to the life of the Flower Valley. Fairy visited the palace often. The better she knew Prince, the more she was attracted by his straightforward attitude, gifted mind, and wise candidness. The more time she spent around Prince, the more she was getting conquered by the shrewdness and nobility of his frank character.
The thoughts and the attention that Fairy devoted to Prince, disturbed her. She could even swear that she was thinking and acting against her will. That was a sign of her weakness, and this realization inflicted a pang of pain into her proud heart. Nevertheless, Fairy was changing and she couldn’t seem to resist. Moreover, there came a time when she wondered if she even wanted to avoid the new feelings. It appeared as if rays of this, unknown before, power, radiated by Prince, entered her heart and started to warm up that icy crystal. She neither understood what was going on, nor could she explain. She still believed that she was able to leave the Valley at any time.
In spite of finding Prince not handsome, the more closely she examined him, the more irretrievably her heart fell in dependency on the gallant simplicity of Prince’s behavior and the exquisite features of his noble countenance, filled with dignity and modesty.
However, what emerged as unexpected was that the more they learned of each other, the more they argued.
One day Fairy asked him, “Is it true you think I am not beautiful?”
“No, it is not true,” Prince replied hurriedly. “Who could tell you such a… wrong thing?”
“I do not remember...” Fairy felt embarrassed. “But unlike others, you’ve never talked to me about it.”
“Oh my charming, difficult opponent,” smiled Prince dreamingly, “to say merely that you are beautiful means nothing, I…” he paused as if an artist in front of the easel, “Like a mountain spring I am imbued with fresh feelings. Never before had I thought that it would be so difficult to express what’s going on inside my heart, Fairy. Several years back, when my parents were alive, I remember thinking, ‘what if I met my love, what would I tell her, how…’ I was angry that I was not an artist to sing of my love in mystique colors; I was saddened that I was not a musician to depict my beloved in the enchanting notes; I was disappointed that I was not a poet to incrust my desire into immortal lines. But not anymore… Since I have met you, my life has been changed, changed forever. I know why I live. My life now makes sense. And each moment of that life I would like to devote, my darling, to…” Prince hesitated. He was looking at Fairy and the gaze was stern.
“What,” insisted Fairy, “what about your life? Devote to whom? Tell me, Prince.”
“This, Fairy, is what I wish to tell you. Unfortunately, beauty is not everything. For us flowers, beauty is a blessed means…”
“Beauty is merely a means?” interrupted Fairy.
“My beautiful opponent let me share with you my faith. I am afraid it will not be easy for you to recognize it, but try hard, please. My schoolteacher, the Goddess of Happiness, taught us that the way love enters a human life is through beautification of one’s soul. We, flowers, are chosen to carry out the task by means of our appearance. She required that even a dead flower must be beautiful. While carrying beauty is the essence of our existence, our aim is to bring Love into everyday life. Love is our religion. Love filled with compassion and sacrifice. It’s why we believe that beauty without soul is worthless,” Prince paused and looked at Fairy, as if challenging her.
“I am tired, Your Majesty, of listening to this topic. I agree with you, yet partially. Look around you, there are many beautiful things without any evidence of a soul!”
“Please, Fairy, do not call me ‘Your Majesty’,” asked Prince. “We are friends, aren’t we?”
“I believe so—yes, Your Majesty,” nodded Fairy. “Sorry, Prince. But, why cannot beauty exist without soul?”
“Beauty is a quality that everyone wishes to possess because of its ability to make the good appear better, and unfortunately, to disguise the bad. Without soul it is so easy to use beauty for a bad cause. I remember my father saying: ‘In a dark heart everything is beautiful, everything is significant, until the flame of soul is brought into it’. It is the soul that distinguishes the good from the evil in beauty. The union of beauty and soul unmasks the vice and adorns the virtue. My Mama told me an old legend, which I’d like to share with you. May I?” Fairy nodded her very beautiful head. “Thank you,” said Prince, and began.
 
 
 CHAPTER 61
 
The Tale of Two Chains
 
“For the master exam a young poor jeweler’s apprentice made two necklaces. Carved and engraved from an inexpensive alloy and designed to adorn his bride, the first one was a genius’ work of art, into which the young man imbued his love. Nevertheless, the people praised the other necklace, which, made from solid gold, was massive and bejeweled richly. However, soon after having seen the first chain gracing the lovely maiden’s neck, connoisseurs could not hold their rapture and adoration. After them, the other people, who previously had disregarded it, now realized that it was a masterpiece.”
“And the other chain?” asked Fairy.
“Well. The other one was ordered by a tycoon-merchant, who used it as a lash to steal the freedom of his favorite slave. Deprived of a soul, that chain became shameful and ugly.”
 
 CHAPTER 62
 
About Love
 
“My respectful Prince, I would gladly find the parable convincing, unless… Look at the people, Prince. By your standards, I must concede that most of them have no soul at all, yet they look quite happy. So what are they missing without a soul? Nothing.”
“No, Fairy. Knowing no love, they squander their lives with no purpose, and without purpose there can be no happiness. Why don’t you understand it, Fairy?”
“Who? The people? Prince, dear, you must be blind. Look around you. Who is not an expert in love?!”
“Did you ask them, Fairy? Go and ask them if they are in love, happy, and satisfied. Is not the golden chain of slavery what they call love? They mistakenly take sex for Love. What is sex? A physical pleasure? Yes. A call of Nature? Definitely: each animal enjoys it. The pleasure of sex is a temptation used by Nature to keep the change of generations. But there is no love in this action if there is no soul.
“Existing without soul, deceived by this limited physical pleasure, people are unable to either give or accept Love when they encounter it.”
“You are, Prince, making this topic too complex. Every human being knows what love is,” objected Fairy, persistently.
“Do they? Why then are they not happy? Why are they constantly looking for more and another of what they call love? What are they missing? Has not it crossed your mind that they are looking for what they are unable to find? Love is granted to everyone, yet only once, like the life itself. So, is it not totally wrong to have love and to continue to look for another love? There’s more to it, and, you know Fairy, this I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time… actually to ask you…” Prince paused as if he was looking for the right words and was unable to find them.
“Go ahead. What is it that Your Majesty wants to ask me?”
“I apologize, Fairy, I don’t think I’ll dare…”
“You will not dare? So I will. I know what you think of me: that I am a pretty toy without what you mysteriously call a soul, whatever that is. I know who I am, and I’m proud to be what I am. No one can have something that does not exist. Like everybody else, I have a heart; and let me tell you it is a good and healthy heart. I do not believe in this soul of yours. Prove that I’m wrong. I am strong and independent. To be happy I need no one.”
 
 CHAPTER 63
 
Your Inner Light
 
“I am sorry, Fairy, for having caused your anger. Anyway, I cannot and I don’t want to prove anything. Dear Fairy, the things I am talking about are the essence of my existence. It is what I am living with and for. How can one prove his belief if not with his life? The sole thing I’d like to do now, Fairy, is, with your permission of course, to introduce to you the flowers’ philosophy.”
Fairy shrugged with indifference.
“Thank you, my kind listener, for the opportunity. My schoolteacher of the Beauty class, Blossoming Hope, the Star from the constellation of Love, taught us that it doesn’t matter how long you live, you will be judged by your deeds. Develop your soul, learn hard to know the past, work tirelessly to enhance the future, and when you are ready your love will find you. Love walks into a heart, asking no permission. It settles in like a tiny star, which lights one’s life up to the last day. Lit up by this inner happiness, a former creature turns into a human being. Those lit by love become themselves a source of human light.
“Unfortunately, people are careless about their souls: their concern is health. You know, my ray-like Fairy, it may sound na;ve, but I am afraid of flowers with these notorious ‘healthy hearts.’ It is so easy for them to pass by a crying child; not to pick up a nestling, fallen out from the nest. They never share bread with the hungry, and hand out a cup of water to the thirsty. What is worse, Fairy, such attitude is a contagious disease. And each day more of these ‘healthy hearts’ walk by us, and finally, walk over us.”
 
 CHAPTER 64
 
A Wounded Heart
 
Prince glanced at Fairy attentively, “Does this bother you? May I continue? Thank you, my patient listener. I believe a flower must carry a ‘wounded’ heart. Such heart, charged with goodness and modesty, fills up one’s life with mercy and compassion. It is a blessing when a man feels pain breaking a flower and the flower cannot but respond with love.”
“You speak so strangely, Prince. I have never heard anything like that: ‘a wounded heart,’ ‘an inner light.’ Yet still, you know... if it is true as your philosophy implies then most people don’t know what love is and will never know. How could that be true?”
“Unfortunately, it is true, and it is what we flowers are partially in this world for. It is the saint mission of our lives: to nourish beauty and propagate its power into people’s deeds and feelings. As to the Goddess of Love, most people have no idea that physical pleasure is only a part of Love. They sense, unconsciously, that the splash of a physiological satisfaction, which they call love, is too dull… that there must be more to it: a supreme light, a divine flame, which is brighter than a zillion suns and higher than the stars in the sky.
“People blame their partners. They try to change everyone and everything, but to no avail. Love comes only to those who are able to accept and nourish it. Love endows us with happiness and makes our souls immortal. Without love people let their souls starve inside their rotting, ever envying hearts. ‘Love,’ my father said, ‘is an immense responsibility. Love’s beautiful pain is the highest reward that one can get in his life. It is given to the chosen, but everyone is given a chance to be a chosen one.’”
 
 CHAPTER 65
 
The World of Love
 
“Your words are so weird and so magnetizing: the beautiful pain is like a reward,” echoed Fairy. “I have never heard words like these. Is it possible to know what love is? Did you ask the Goddess, Prince?”
“Yes, my darling, as a matter of fact, I did. ‘Love,’ she responded, ‘is your yoke and your crown. Love is a commitment. Love is an obligation. Love is an honor to devote your life to your beloved. If you are in love, the only way for you to be happy is to see your beloved happy. Only Love is able to bring together his and her hearts and entwine them forever as a husband and a wife. These two form a new universe around them. Lit and warmed up by mutual respect and devotion, inside their world the two need no one else. Embraced and beautified by mutual care and tenderness, they become irreplaceable parts of each other.’ It is why we flowers believe that there is no plain or unsightly flower on the earth. Every human being, each flower is beautiful, living in love.” Prince was looking into Fairy’s eyes, as though asking.
Fairy did not know what to say. She was overwhelmed. This was all so new to her. It contradicted all of her previous thoughts and feelings.
 
 CHAPTER 66
 
An Unexpected Acknowledgement
 
Next time Fairy asked, “Prince, I’m confused. Say, you are in love, yet the one you are in love with loves another man. Would you help the woman to be with that man?”
“Why do you ask me such a question? You have brought pain into my heart. I have thought about that, and my answer is ‘yes.’ I do realize, Fairy, how often our promises stray away from our fulfillments. So I pray to the merciful God to help me live up to my beliefs and do everything on my part to see my beloved happy. Isn’t that the essence of love?”
Such arguments were occurring more often. Each discussion led to a new one. Some were embarrassing to Fairy. She did not avoid them—on the contrary—she raised them even more frequently than Prince would like to. Many times the discussions would cut short due to Fairy’s inability to find a reliable argument. That irritated her.
Later on, having returned to her favorite place by Singing Splash, the Creek, Fairy would find an appropriate response, but it was too late.
The next day, armed with a fresh decisiveness, Fairy would come to continue yesterday’s dispute, but each day it was getting more difficult: The demands on Prince were growing: the summer was almost over, and the upcoming autumn problems demanded all his attention.
 
 CHAPTER 67
 
Playful-Fluffy Flies Away
 
Finally, there came a time when Playful-Fluffy became bored.
“Fairy,” she suggested, “it’s getting cold here. I’ve heard of a warm lake with an amusing waterfall; we have never been there. Let’s fly.”
“Oh, Playful-Fluffy, what a great idea, I would like it so much… Yet… why couldn’t we wait till the week ends? Please?”
At the end of the week, facing another request, Fairy offered, “Well, Playful-Fluffy, I am ready, still… let’s wait to the end of the summer. Please?”
On the named day Fairy replied, “Dear Playful-Fluffy, let me tell you... You are right; it’s time to move further, however…”
“Stop, please,” interrupted her Fluffy. “I do not want any more excuses. Yes or no; whatever. I don’t care. Tomorrow I go.”
“Let’s go,” nodded Fairy sadly, lowering her head unhappily.
Tomorrow came, and Fairy, unexpectedly even to herself, refused to leave. “It is impolite to leave without saying goodbye to Prince and our friends.”
“We have done it, Fairy, several times already. But you… As to my knowledge, you have used every device to keep Prince out of our plans. I bet he still knows nothing about our departure. Am I wrong? Say something.”
There came an awkward silence. Fairy was caught unaware and avoided looking at Fluffy.
Fluffy continued, “Ok, you stay. I see why. You will never say goodbye to Prince. It is obvious. You love him. Don’t even dare to deny it. Everyone sees that you cannot live without him anymore. Everyone except you, admits it. Your egotism does not let you acknowledge it, and the frozen crystal of your heart is unable to accept it.”
“No, you are wrong,” denied Fairy pitifully.
“I know what is wrong,” responded Playful-Fluffy. “It is the flowers’ philosophy effect. All these notorious seeds of love, wounded hearts, and unburgeoned souls… I thought that it was too funny to be true. And I was wrong. It has worked perfectly on you. You are not the fairy I brought here. You are merely an egotistical woman unable to respond to the love that Prince is pouring in your healthy non-burgeoned heart. Poor, poor, poor Prince. Goodbye, my dear.”
 
 CHAPTER 68
 
These Difficult Doubts
 
Playful-Fluffy flew away alone. Fairy was saddened.
This night was sleepless again, “Prince is pouring love in my heart. Isn’t it a kind of joke?! He’s never ever uttered a word which people usually say to their darlings. Why? Is he afraid of… what?”
From the history of her bumpy relations with Prince, Fairy was reviving every minute detail; she pondered and thought them over.
Fairy couldn’t help but recognize that Prince was more courteous to her than to others. She acknowledged, as well, that the attention he paid to her was in many ways different than he showed to others. So what?! It was acceptable yesterday, yes; but today it had become so insufficient. She couldn’t tolerate anymore the attention Prince gave to other lady-flowers; and the question why? why? why? like a heavy pendulum was pounding into her heart, demanding an answer, which she could not find, or (might it be?) she was afraid to reveal.
Fairy knew that Prince asked about her every day. Being around Prince, she felt how persistently he was gazing at her. And indeed, raising her eyes she encountered his piercing and examining look, which he tried clumsily to hide from her and others. So what! It was still not enough for Fairy.
Moreover, just recently she started to feel some changes going on inside her inner world. She felt that her heart overflowed with new thoughts and feelings and was turning into a swollen bud, ready to open widely towards a new life and unfamiliar expectations. With mixed feelings Fairy felt how this disobedient heart was falling in a captivated dependence of Prince’s fate, willing to share every minute of his life—no matter how sweet or bitter it could be.
Yet, her stubborn mind resisted: “Aren’t you an independent person, free to like or dislike anyone you choose?”
She desired passionately, that Prince’s every word, each move, and his life in its entirety would belong to her; solely to her. Sometimes her fantasies grew almost insane. She dreamed that there were only two on the earth: he and she... and the stars in the sky… maybe.
 
 CHAPTER 69
 
First Time Ashamed
 
A real winter—with snow, frost, and blizzards—never entered the valley. Nevertheless, even a slight cool-off of air usually caused a lot of ailments. The approaching winter was expected to be a harsh one. Plus, like in any other country, there were a number of other problems in the Valley.
By that time Fairy had become accustomed to being involved in the court’s affairs. It could happen that Fairy, having spent a day at the palace, would not have a chance to exchange even a word with Prince.
Each new day Fairy discovered a new facet of Prince’s personality. His knowledge was profound and thorough. He was a respectful poet and an amateur artist. He liked singing and many found his voice lovely. At leisure time, if he had it, Prince composed music, played the piano, violin, read a lot.
The flowers loved him dearly. For his subjects, Prince was a man of many faces: a judge, a doctor, a counselor, an advisor. To the elder flowers he was a son; with the peers he was a friend; to the youngsters he was an elder brother. As to the girls… Of course, each girl-flower was in love with Prince, yet hardly any one could boast of its return.
The flowers held no secrets from their ruler and trusted him with their lives. In return for such confidence and trust, Prince gave himself tirelessly.
One day Fairy lost her patience. “You are a prince! Yet you are working every day, hard, like no one else in your country. You don’t belong to yourself. Even during the night some saucy flowers dare to wake you up.”
“You mean yesterday’s episode, don’t you? It was an old Mrs. Dainty, the Alpine-Snowdrop. She wasn’t saucy at all. She was seeking help. Her son broke his stem and was dying. They called me only after the doctors had done everything they could.”
“So what was the use, Prince? You could do nothing either.”
“You know, Fairy, every so often I feel a pity for your tremendously healthy heart; and sometimes I ask myself if you possess one.”
“What is all this about my heart again?”
“Excuse me, Fairy, but that is not what I mean. I still can hear my Mother telling me: ‘Son, our destiny is to carry beauty through the time, generation by generation. So if our efforts are not supported by our nobility, they are futile. It is dignity I’m talking about, of which compassion is an indispensable component. It is a talent to share someone’s pain by taking a part of the burden upon your shoulder. It must be done sincerely, without humiliation.’ My beloved Father used to add: ‘Son, it is only a luck to be a prince by birth, to be a prince by merit is honor.’ So how could I blame Mrs. Dainty Alpine, who trusted me her mother’s hope in exchange for a part of my sleep?”
It was the first time in her life that Fairy felt ashamed.
 
 CHAPTER 70
 
Lazy Drifter
 
The autumn had come earlier than usual that year. At the beginning of September a cloud-drifter hung on above the Valley of Flowers. Her name was Mrs. Lump-Chunk Wad, the Cumulus Cloud. Relatively young, she already had a black heart. She got it while hanging around with the Stratus cloud tribe, the angry dark guys, saturated with hail, snow, icy rains, and violent gusts.
Weeks came and went, but the cloud was still above the valley. It seemed as if she was not going to leave the place at all. Each day Mrs. Lump-Chunk Wad the Cumulus Cloud was growing wider, thicker, and stronger. Soon the day came when her obese body hooded over the valley, letting not even a single sunray inside.
Without sunlight life became hard. There were more rains, and they were unbearably cold. The humidity glazed the slopes of Mrs. Stony-Lock, the Mountain, with ice for the first time in the Valley’s history. The days were just a little bit brighter than nights. Many flowers got sick. Some of them were wilting.
Prince was extremely busy. A haunting shadow of melancholy occupied Fairy’s brain and she did not feel well. She was not sick, yet she did not feel like visiting the palace without seeing Prince. For hours she now rested inside her hostess, Mrs. Floating Star, the Water lily. Mr. Singing Splash, the Creek, supplied her with fresh news from the outside world. At times she played hide-and-seek with the fish.
She devoted a lot of time thinking over the philosophy of another life, a life of hardship and sacrifice which she had encountered in the valley. The most tormenting was that, while her heart, overcoming its stubbornness, little-by-little accepted Prince’s righteousness, her mind still refused to give in. Nothing was clear in her unburgeoned soul.
And nothing was clear in the flower world, as well. It had been already three months since a ray of sunshine was able to fall into the Valley.
 
 CHAPTER 71
 
To Find a Wind
 
On the eve of the New Year a page, Mr. Yellow Romance, the Narcissi, arrived to invite Fairy to the court reception. Fairy was immensely relieved: it was impossible for her not to see Prince any longer. However, when Fairy arrived, the Prime Minister Sir Faithful Heart, the Rose, brought to her an apology on Prince’s behalf: Prince was busy at the hospital: a number of young flowers having no appropriate experience, had burned their petals by night frosts.
Sir Faithful Heart, the Rose, informed Fairy that all the best efforts to convince Mrs. Lump-Chunk Wad, the Cumulus Cloud, to move had failed without a response. Prince asked if it would be possible if Fairy invited a strong wind to push the nasty cloud away from the Valley. Fairy agreed immediately.
She asked Miss Rainbow Scale, the Trout, her friend from the Singing Splash, the Creek. Miss Rainbow Scale swam as far as Mr. Mighty Spirit, the Ocean, and asked the Sea-Waves to spread around the world the Prince’s appeal. The family was well known for their friendship with all kinds of winds. The waves nodded with their foamy heads and rushed into various directions.
 
 CHAPTER 72
 
The Three Brothers
 
As a result of such unusual diplomacy, three winds appeared.
The first to arrive was Sir Icy Beardstrem, the Norwegian, a powerful fair-haired giant. With all his might he pushed away. The cloud shuddered like a hunk of jelly, dropped down a cold rain, and that was it. Sir Icy Beardstrem hit it again and again…and many times more. When he finally ceased, exhausted and ashamed, Mrs. Lump-Chunk Wad didn’t even wake up.
The next to get busy was Don Great Blast Williwaw, the Chilean, a slender and fast se;or. He charged differently. By cutting along one side, he tore off a large gob of cloud. Then he came from the opposite side to do the same. The weakness of the strategy became obvious too soon. While Don Great Blast Williwaw managed to slice off a sequential piece, the previous one moved back into its place with no problem at all. Don Great Blast Williwaw had to start all over again and again. Eventually he gave up, and Mrs. Lump-Chunk Wad did not even open an eye.
Then, Sheik Sandy Devil, the Arabian, an angry and frantic Bedouin, took his turn. Considering the brothers’ failure, he tore off a piece of the cloud, pulled it far away, where he meticulously shredded it.
Success? Alas! That plan did not work either. While he was destroying one slice, the cloud grew up even a larger piece on the same spot.
The defeat of the three knight-brothers filled the Valley of Flowers with hopelessness. A new spring now was taking over the reins of the outer world, but inside the Valley the winter never seemed to be over.
Prince invited Fairy to the palace to talk. During the short meeting Prince suggested Fairy ask the help of Mr. Silver Wings. Although every member of the State Council was surprised, there was not a word of objection: nobody was able to present another solution.
Doubting Prince’s decision as well, Fairy, nevertheless, asked Mr. Singing Splash, the Creek, to call for the youngster. She thought that it should not be difficult for the creek, while crossing the Glade of Fairy Tales, to find that prankster somewhere around his favorite abode.
 
 CHAPTER 73
 
The Colorful Brood
 
Silver Wings the Wind was in the Valley of Flowers in no time. He grasped Prince’s idea instantaneously and with ardor. The lad disappeared and in a short while returned, leading a host of his friends. That was a noisy bundle of hundreds of young mischievous winds of various colors. The teenagers—boys and girls—called themselves the Rainbow Brotherhood of the Cheerful Brood.
Showering Mrs. Lump-Chunk Wad the Cumulus Cloud with jokes and jeers that colorful regiment assailed the nasty cloud from all sides at once. One wind was unable to grab off a large slab at a time, but who could stop him from getting away with a small one? So, while Sparkle Green, the Wind, was pulling away her take, Purple Laughter, the Squall, took over her place, and Blue Melody, the Breeze, was already behind him. Even the little one, Golden Song, the Zephyr, scooped away his affordable share.
And… lo and behold… in a short while the fat body started growing smaller, and Mrs. Lump-Chunk Wad finally opened her eyes. She was taken by surprise that a horde of youngsters dared to disturb her. Defending herself, Mrs. Lump-Chunk Wad fought hard. She attempted to drive the winds away, to push them, to scare, or to catch some, even to swallow… No way. Nothing worked for her.
Against that motley carousel of swift (I almost said “like wind”) warriors, she was hopeless. In an hour there was not a trace of Mrs. Lump-Chunk Wad the Cumulus Cloud in the blue sky, and the life-carrying sunlight plummeted down, mixing with the joy of the flowers.
 
 CHAPTER 74
 
Sick Prince
 
Unfortunately, during the last commotion Prince got fever. Upon learning that, a worried Fairy hurried to the palace.
Prince was not in bed. He looked tired and was pale, but Doctor Cure Potion, the Aloe, had found out that Prince’s life was out of danger. He insisted on Prince taking a vacation from state affairs. Prince nodded politely and made a gesture to leave him alone with Fairy.
Fairy began by reprimanding Prince angrily. “Why do you, a prince, live like any ordinary flower, in the dumpiest and coolest lot of the Valley? There is so little sunlight under that gloomy rock, where cold air slides unhindered down the steep mountainside. Your place is in the center; in the sun. You are better, worthier than the others.”
“Worthier, you say,” doubted Prince. “I’m afraid not. Stronger, you can say that: in many instances it might be true. You know, it’s funny; in some sense you are correct. Long ago, back in time our family did live in the middle of the Valley, until one of my ancestors moved to this spot. Why? I have never given it a thought. I guess he was a noble and honest flower. Plus, our species is known for good health and resistance to most of the herbal illnesses. Since then, the spot in the middle we offer to the most beautiful flower of year. To me it is quite natural.”
 
 CHAPTER 75
 
A Prince’s Dream
 
“If the flowers claim they respect you,” continued Fairy, “why don’t they give the honor to you?”
“Why should they? They know that such a so called honor would humiliate me and, between us, I hate sycophants. Yet, don’t get me wrong, Fairy. I’m fully aware of my virtues, which I’m happy with. Since my childhood, I have been striving to better myself. The smell of newly printed books is the most desirable perfume. I’ve always longed to obtain as much of knowledge as possible. I am somewhat proud of my achievements and do not want anyone else’s. I want to be remembered for what I am, not what I’d like to be.”
“But, Prince, darling,” reminded Fairy warmly, “you do not belong to yourself at all. This minute you are appeasing a squabbling couple of Mallows; the next moment you are listening to an offended Bindweed; then you see a sick one, and on, and on…”
“I know, Fairy, their fate depends heavily on me,” smiled Prince. “Even at night I keep thinking of my flowers’ welfare: the colors for their petals, the quality of soil, water… There is so much we need.”
“You see,” picked up Fairy. “Does it do you any good? How long will you be able to carry such burden? You are going to break yourself.”
“No, it is not a burden at all, my charming disputer. My desire to help stems from my free will, which is a component of the ‘the milk of wisdom’ I was fed by my parents and teachers during my upbringing. Of course, I have some ability and greater opportunity. I am obliged to God for the first, and grateful to my parents for the latter. I am afraid that by refusing to share someone’s pain would make me cruel and unjust. And the day I encounter my love, my heart wouldn’t be able to recognize her and respond. The Goddess of Love’s warning confuses me: what if love is unreachable by me? It is why I cannot afford to have a ‘healthy’ heart. How can I explain better?”
“You know, Prince, I’ve been thinking recently, and they are alarming thoughts. Something terrible is going on with me. I have started to see things differently. It’s not a problem for me now, to fathom your logic, but to live up to it…  I feel like I’m giving away a part of myself. How can I?” replied Fairy.
“Sometimes it is hard,” agreed Prince, “but so rewarding afterwards. Have you ever tried? No?” smiled Prince and added, “Our charming guest, on behalf of the Valley of Flowers let me thank you heartily for the help you’ve given to cleanse our sky. It is our fortune that you stayed with us.”
Prince frowned. “But I have to caution you, Fairy, this year is going to be an uneasy one. Two more calamities are supposed to intrude into our Valley. I’ll tell you more when I am certain. Enough about business. Tomorrow, magnificent Fairy, I invite you and the victorious windy Brotherhood to a ball in honor of our victory. Let me use the advantage of my position and ask you humbly, my divine friend, to grant me the opening dance.”
“All of them,” answered Fairy hurriedly and blushed.
 
 CHAPTER 76
 
The Ball
 
The ball was fabulous. There were hundreds of guests there. Prince still was not doing well. Nevertheless, he joined the company, and he chatted, played the violin, and danced. Yet, the remnants of fever precluded him from singing.
Some young girl-flowers, observing Prince’s and Fairy’s disturbed relations, drew a conclusion that the rift between Prince and Fairy improved their chances, allowing them to compete for the Prince’s heart. So, later on, Prince and Fairy learned that the Ceremony-Master, Sir Tender Tune, the Carnation, without consulting with Prince, had booked up all the Prince’s dances to other craving guests, leaving for Fairy just the opening waltz. Fairy was furious. Prince said nothing, but was obviously aggrieved.
“You see,” said Fairy during the dance, “due to your boundless kindness, no one is afraid of you.”
“My beautiful and sweet little Dew, what are you talking about? Why be afraid? I am not a ruler of wild animals. I want no one to fear me. I am the Prince of Flowers. Our tools are love and honesty. I sincerely like my dear subjects. I am striving hard to care for all of them together and every one individually; each of my flowers I wish good luck and success. And… just between us, Fairy, sometimes I do tell myself, that I am also loved by them and such dream makes me foolishly happy.”
The dance was over, and Price saw Fairy to his table.
“Don’t you think, Prince, and I have to mention this again, that here in the Valley, you all are rather too far from the real life outside that you so often refer so to? People, they treat love just as another commodity: to get profit and pleasure. And they do get it all, don’t they? So simply and easily.”
“And I will insist again and again, my respectful and stubborn friend, they don’t and will not get what they are looking for, neither profit nor pleasure. Fairy, I have tried hard not to touch this topic, but now we have to clear it up. Please, I beg you with all my heart; make every effort to follow me. It is something of great value to us… for me.
“I have been watching you, beautiful Fairy, and I have concluded that it is not a sin of yours, it is rather a misfortune of your origin. God, having endowed you generously with a sublime beauty, left your heart free of earthy feelings.” Fairy angrily bit her lip, but Prince continued. “It is why you are unable to see that love is a hard labor and a lifelong sacrifice.
“Love does not know the word ‘why.’ Love asks nothing in exchange. In love I wish to give and I’m happy if I am allowed to do it. Love is irrational. The man says: ‘Here is my life. Take it, my beloved, and let me prove that it belongs to you up to the last breath.’ And the woman says: ‘and you take mine, my beloved, since only together we are the essence of this world.’ I realize how hard it is to trust in this philosophy. Yet I believe that one day She’ll come and I shall meet Her; She, whose heart will be filled over with the same divine passion as mine, so only death will separate us.”
 
 CHAPTER 77
 
The Divine Pain
 
Fairy returned home as a wounded bird. She could not stop reiterating obstinately, “He does not love me, he will never love me!” She started crying…for the first time in her life. She sensed how grief constricted her heart, and a warm trickle of empathy was oozing into it. How could he be so insensitive? She desperately needed a friend into whose shoulder she could tuck her face. But she was alone.
For several days Fairy did not see Prince. Saddened, she was wandering along Singing Splash, the Creek, listening more than talking, and the world was turning to her its other side, without balls and parades. Fairy discovered that even that happy world was full of abuse, diseases, and injustice.
She was asking herself, “What is going on between me and Prince? What do I feel for him? Is it the Love? What does it mean to love? I feel happy with him, it is true. I want to be beside him more than beside anyone else on the earth. I yearn for him to be only with me. But what about him? The flowers say that Prince is in love with me. Why don’t I see that? Could it be true about my heart, which is unable to respond to love? No. NO! It is a lie!” She felt suddenly the painful weight of her heart, and as it was getting heavier, the pain was becoming unbearable.
An unknown force took possession over her essence. Was it a good power or an evil one? Fairy did not know. A violent and tempestuous desire permeated into her heart setting it on fire of such a purifying and immortal pain, which she would never give away for all the riches of the world.
The next day, on the way to the palace, she spotted a falling gillyflower and stopped to prop it up. She also released a marjoram suffocating in a cobweb. Then, she found it necessary to comfort a little cowbell bullied by elder teenagers. Fairy took the girl in her arms and the little minx didn’t want to let her go.
Later, it was a crocus’ turn, a damask rose’, some shepherds’ purses, then a sweet william, a violet and a columbine, a lady’s smock and a fleur-de-lis, after that… As a result, that day Fairy got no chance to come even close to the palace. And nonetheless she felt satisfied. It had been a long while since she had felt such happiness.
The following day was just as busy, just as happy. And the next, and again… Thus, day by day, deed by deed, Fairy immersed into the every day life of the Valley. The more experience she gathered, the better she understood Prince.
 
 CHAPTER 78
 
A New Menace
 
The quiet spring in the valley was interrupted by a new menace. The Edelweiss, living above the Valley on the mountain slope, informed Prince that a crack in the stony wall, leading into the Valley from the outside world, had been found. According to the Valley’s history, from time to time, when the old Mrs. Stony Ring, the Mountain, got bronchitis, her coughing could cause such damage, and it presented an extreme danger to the Valley.
A gang of insects, who had long wished to feed on flowers, was looking forward to conquering the Valley. Their scouts were constantly on the lookout for an appropriate chance. Soon, there came reports that the enemy’s reconnaissance parties were encountered at the breach and chased away. Such skirmishes were getting more frequent and grew heavier. The intelligence gathered by the flower scouts, informed Prince that the insects had mobilized a huge army outside the mountain. Now, their vanguard, losing an enormous amount of casualties, tried to establish a stronghold on the inner slope and the rest of the troops were ready to intrude.
 
 
 CHAPTER 79
 
State of War
 
At the outset, in spite of undaunted courage of the flowers’ forefront, the enemies were able to seize a foothold on the valley side, and their number grew rapidly.
Prince declared a state of war and drafted an army. Sons from the families of warriors such as the Prickly Pears and the Mammitharias, the Arrowheads and the Reeds, the Venus Fly Traps and the Buckbeans and many others, carrying thorns, bristles, prickles, needles, leaves with cutting edges. The flowers feeding on insects formed the core. The flowers excreting poison were conscripted as well. The blend of their poison mixed with sand would be used to fill up the vulnerable cracks in the old body of Mrs. Stony Ring, the Mountain, whose health was, unfortunately, not so perfect. Upon drying, the filler solidified like a rock, and due to the poison the insects couldn’t bite it out.
Meantime, the development of the events was leading up to a large and decisive battle.
On the eve of the battle, without an invitation, Fairy came to see Prince. Having seen her arrive, Prince hurried to meet her at the entrance of the hall.
“It is so kind of you to come today,” bowed Prince. “I am missing you. It seems to me I haven’t seen you for years. Where have you been? You know, Fairy, tomorrow is the battle, and I need to tell you something that is of utmost importance to me… to us…” Prince was nervous and spoke with difficulty. “I think it is the most important step in my life. Would you please sit down, Fairy?”
They sat at a table in the corner where, for the first time since their acquaintance, they had relative solitude. There was a long and embarrassing silence. Fairy looked at Prince. To her wonder, that strong man and powerful ruler looked like a shy and guilty teenager.
“You know, Fairy,” Prince spoke with great effort, “it is so hard to find those unique words to which I could entrust my desire… Actually, I want to ask you what I have been carrying in my heart from the very moment I saw you. Nothing since has been so important to me. It is about the great hope of my life. Fairy, I have the honor…”
 
 CHAPTER 80
 
Before the Battle
 
At that moment, an adjutant entered the hall and announced that Prince, as the Commander-in-Chief, is being waited for by the State Council in the Hall of War. Prince sighed, nodded and stood up.
“My magnificent, my dearest Fairy, it is much easier for me to go into a deadly battle, than to ask you the question that I was about to ask. If everything is ok… I mean, if I return… I shall put into your trust the most important decision of my life. Now, I have to go.”
Fairy put her hand on his arm. “Prince, I have come as well to share with you something that has become a part of my fate and occupies my desires… but the time is against us. Yet, Prince, would you do a favor for me?”
“Oh Fairy, anything, I give you my word.”
“Prince, be careful. I have seen many battles, and I know that the place of the Commanders-in-Chief is on a hill behind the troops commanding the actions. However, knowing you and your temper, I beg you; do not risk your life. And remember, Your Majesty, you’ve just given me your word of honor.”
“Sorry, Fairy, I should not have done it, it is something that I cannot promise.”
“Well, I knew it,” cried Fairy, “I knew it. You do not respect my feelings.”
“Oh, Fairy, how terribly mistaken you are! There is always something intimate in loving relations which cannot be expressed by words. Had your crystal heart felt a tiny bit of compassion, you wouldn’t want to see me deprived of honesty and dignity. You are correct. It might be the right place for a commander to rule in battle, but not this one.
“There is no room for stratagems tomorrow. Our task is as simple as heart. We must meet the enemy face to face and destroy him. Failure is not an option; we have nothing for another attempt. It is easier to say than accomplish. Everything is a matter of bravery. In this case, to be ahead is the only place for a commander. I regret I cannot explain it better. I know that if I followed your advice, you would be the first to show contempt for me tomorrow. Now, forgive me my divine Fairy, there is the bugle, it calls for me.”
“Go. God bless you. I want you to know: my mind agrees with you, but all my experience tells me something different. I will wait for you. Come back alive.”
Prince’s face brightened up at her words. “Thank you, oh my joy. What have I done to deserve this promise? It is more than I’ve ever expected. Your words bring light into the darkness of my hope. Please trust your heart.”
 
 CHAPTER 81
 
The Battle Starts
 
The battle started with the sunrise. The first line of flowers, led by Prince, attacked the enemies, whose rows appeared formidable, armed with the snouts, trunks, spouts, pincers, and fangs. Nevertheless, the thrust brought some success.
The insects stepped back yet were able to hold up the crack through which fresh troops were penetrating. The insects regrouped and counter-attacked the flowers. That drive caused a lot of damage. To save the flower army from defeat, Prince ordered a fighting retreat.
Such an unlucky turn of events had been considered by Prince in advance: behind the storming lines, he had placed lines of the thistle species. Their countless yet short thorns were not especially effective attacking, but in defense they were second to none. When the wave of enemies came across the wall of the thistles, bristling with zillions of sharp swords and javelins, the insects were overwhelmed. Whatever they tried, nothing worked. They lost the best fighters and moved ahead not even a step. The insects were somewhat lucky destroying few thistles, yet even dead, the soldiers remained at their positions, letting no enemy through.
 
 CHAPTER 82
 
Fighting for Motherland
 
In the meantime, Prince organized a counter-attack, and the flowers’ forces began pushing the insects back again. The insects’ commander sent the flying species to break up the flowers’ resistance from above. The maneuver proved to be a failure. The insects miscalculated the ability of thorny plants to fight in all directions simultaneously.
In such manner, the fight, with success bouncing from one side to the other, had lasted the entire day. On the one hand, the flowers couldn’t destroy the insects that constantly were getting a flow of fresh fighters. On the other hand, the insects couldn’t even dream about a victory, because the number of soldiers they could gather at the small foothold was not enough to overcome the flower warriors.
The number of fatalities had grown tremendously. Both sides were on the verge of exhaustion, yet no one considered a defeat. Before dusk, there came an offer from the enemy’s side: to decide the fate of the battle in a duel between the best warriors of both sides. They presented a knight called Sir Hoodlum M. Osquito de Scorpio.
The flowers’ War Council held a short meeting, where Prince picked up the challenge for himself with no hesitation. However, the rest of the Council opposed that idea: Prince was advised that it was unreasonable that he, armed with a thorn-saber and a shield, would face the giant Sir Hoodlum M. Osquito, equipped with a long sharp snout and several claws. Prince had listened to everyone patiently.
His response was polite but brief, “It is an order.”
 
 CHAPTER 83
 
The Duel
 
When the fighters stepped in the middle of the chosen place, Prince appeared like a fledgling youngster against Mr. Hoodlum M. Osquito. Despair grabbed the hearts of the flower-soldiers.
Let me, my reader, offer for your attention an article printed in the Colorful News the following day.
David and Goliath
Intellect beats power
In the terms of time the duel was relatively short. At the very beginning Prince sharply assaulted Sir Hoodlum M. Osquito. With his sword flying like lightning, Prince forced his formidable enemy into a corner, where Sir Hoodlum M. Osquito had limited usage of his long legs and arms. The giant insect was overwhelmed by a powerful squall from the much smaller opponent. Only after having lost several claw-limbs did the Knight find a moment to respond.
He was a skillful and experienced warrior, and the loss of some limbs, although limiting his potentiality, couldn’t discourage him. Sir Hoodlum M. Osquito parried Prince’s thrusts with a couple of effective passes and rushed at Prince, forcing him out from the corner. Backing down, Prince slipped on a wet rock and fell onto his back, dropping his sword. Sir Hoodlum M. Osquito jumped at Prince to thrust his notched venomous beak straight into his heart. At that time everyone believed that Prince was going to die. However, Prince managed to do what no one expected. Instead of dodging the lunge, for what there was neither time nor room, Prince set up his shield against the sharp blow, making sure that if the weapon penetrated the shield, it would go through the muscles and bones of his arm, which is exactly what happened.
It was a hell of pain, but Prince’s maneuver slowed down the riposte and eventually stopped the move. The beak pierced the shield, flesh, and the bone and stuck in an inch from the Prince’s heart. While Sir Hoodlum M. Osquito tried desperately to move his beak back or forward, Prince fumbled for the dagger, and stabbed the Knight in the heart. The battle was over. Glory to our Prince!
Mrs. Thistle-Whistle Rumorspread, the Campanula.
This just in: After the Prince’s breathless body was rushed to the hospital, the doctors have let us know that Prince suffered from several wounds, loss of blood, and poisoning. He is in a stable, but critical condition.. We will keep you informed with the latest developments.”
 
 CHAPTER 84
 
A Hard Victory
 
The battle and the war itself were over. Inspired by Prince’s victory the flower army rushed at the enemies’ formations, exterminating part and chasing away the rest.
The insects, devastated by the Sir Hoodlum M. Osquito ’s death, ran away, seeking refuge outside the Valley. It took a night and a day of hard, nonstop labor to clog the crack with a poisoned mixture to avert future attacks.


               Book 3
THE BOOK OF LOVE

 CHAPTER 85
 
Fighting for Life
 
Fairy was beside Prince, helping the doctors and nurses as much as she could to fight for his life. Being unconscious, Prince called Fairy often, but was unable to respond to her voice. She would put her cool hand onto his forehead and Prince quit moaning and fell asleep.
It did not take long for the young fellow to regain consciousness and in a week his strong organism began showing signs of recovery. Still, he was too weak to speak and most of the day he slept. Occasionally, opening his eyes, he looked around and a soft childish smile quivered his pale lips. He was unable to discern anyone. Nevertheless, it was a relief—a relief for everyone.
What with Prince recovering, Fairy regained an opportunity to leave every so often and hurry to the flowers, which were always waiting for her. The necessity of Fairy accepting this role seemed easy and natural. Driven by all the good and bad events, Fairy slowly but surely had become a part of the Valley’s everyday life. It was widely acknowledged that her involvement benefited the inhabitants. Even the members of the State Council approached her for an opinion on some delicate matters.
 
 CHAPTER 86
 
Busy Fairy
 
Once Prince gained consciousness, he learned of Fairy’s absences, and knowing nothing about the nature of her changed behavior, got upset and reclusive. However, he was too proud to ask. In her haughty way, Fairy too refused to explain her disappearances.
Along with the progress in Prince’s recuperation, Fairy allowed herself to devote yet more attention to the dwellers of the Valley.
Every day brought new issues that required her attention, as well as new friends.
Fairy still managed to visit Prince each day, but with her growing busyness it was getting difficult to spare the necessary time. Note, my kind reader: in the early morning, having dewed the flowers, Fairy hurried to free some from the night cobweb, then to teach youngsters to cooperate with bees. To calm down frolicking cranesbills took a lot of patience. In one corner of the Valley an ailing marguerite asked for help. In another corner an old chrysanthemum was waiting to settle a dispute with his next door neighbor—a rosemary. You think it is easy to put bandages onto ruptured stems of thorny plants, or either to saw up the torn off leaves or to paste together tender petals and to paint them after? What about teaching the first-graders how to withstand rain and wind; and after all to devote the same attention to the night flowers? Besides, the bees and other friendly insects living in the valley also needed her. The long and short of it was, Fairy was busy much of each day.
 
 CHAPTER 87
 
The Difficult Confession
 
Once Prince became strong enough, he remarked to Fairy, “You seem so busy now... what with? Have you gotten new friends? Who are they? What are you doing?”
“Yes, I am,” answered Fairy belligerently, “Yes, I am very busy. Yes, I’ve gotten many new friends. I hope I’m of real help to some of them. Is anything wrong with that? Do you think that I am so dumb not to taste the irony of your question? It is only you who believes that I am only good for nothing. But the last few weeks have shown that on the contrary, I can help and be respected too. Do you hear that? And I am not ashamed.” She started crying, making Prince squirm. “All… all in the valley loves me but you. Why are you so scornful of me?” choked by tears, she could not continue.
“I am sorry,” said Prince. “I have to agree, I was nervous about your whereabouts, but I was not being sarcastic,” he tenderly took her shaking hands in his palms. “It is too bad, Fairy. You don’t know how wrong you are. Because… because… I love you,” he said, his petals paling, “with every beat of my heart. My love is larger than life and stretches far beyond it.
“I know that love is indescribable. It is an ineffable feeling which has to be proven, not explained. And still I stubbornly want you to know, oh my beloved, that since the very moment I met you, everything in the world makes sense only due to you.
“I no longer value my freedom, nor am I master of  my senses; in vain, relentlessly they argue with each other. My lips, being robbed of ability to admire you, envy my eyes. The eyes complain that unlike my lips, they are unable to speak out their admiration. My brain is in despair, failing to express the flame of its tenderness: the power of logic is helpless in love. The heart… my poor heart doesn’t belong to me any longer. It beats for you. It hopes with you. It lives because of you.
“And now… here is my stubborn reasoning, it questions all the feeling. It reminds me of your indifference passing by a baby-bee who fractured her leg; it leads to the time where you neglected to stretch the hand to a child butterfly, stuck in the resin,” Prince paused, looking for a word.
Offended, Fairy was about to object, but did not, obeying the Prince’s stopping gesture.
“Please, my incomparable and ineffable Fairy, I probably should have spoken about this subject long ago. I didn’t plan to start it now. Nevertheless, it has happened, so let’s finish it. I will not be able to touch it again. I know, Fairy, you are going to say that you would have helped, you merely did not think about it. But that is exactly what I am afraid of.
“What could I offer you… I am neither rich nor famous. The few things I am proud of are my devotion to my flowers and unblemished honor. Does it mean anything to you, Fairy? There has been no man in the world to capture your heart. Most were much better than I. One day I might become poor and miserable… And there’s a question: are you able to fall in love at all?
“I know it sounds selfish, but I want either all or nothing. Now,” Prince started losing consciousness, “please, go… and forgive me every word you have just heard, we have to…” Prince fainted and dropped onto the pillow, his body was trembling in fever.
Fairy was offended. She was embarrassed. She knew that Prince was wrong. Maybe she was such before: indifferent and careless, but not any longer. Under the influence of her true love of Prince, she had changed a lot. She was not a careless and impassive fairy anymore. New sensations, never known before, had filled her icy heart. Her sadness was deep like despair. Having stood there for some time in an uncomfortable silence, Fairy sobbed and hurried away.
 
 CHAPTER 88
 
Poor Fairy
 
Poor, poor Fairy. Her heart was broken. She came to a conclusion that everything was over. Prince did not understand her and did not want to. He would never pardon her and fall in love with her. Fairy determined to leave the Valley of Flowers.
Nevertheless, upon awakening, Fairy was reminded of some of unfulfilled obligations. She worked hard, but at the end of the day a lot of work had not been done yet and required her presence.
After two more busy days the anger dulled down. Fairy yearned to see Prince, but didn’t feel ready yet and didn’t depart the Valley. Why, you may ask, dear reader? She did not have an answer and did not look for any. A sense that she had never experienced kept her from leaving and prompted an excuse: Prince was still sick, so it would be impolite to go away without saying goodbye.
 
 CHAPTER 89
 
The Drought
 
There was another reason for Fairy to stay in the Valley.
Fairy was the first to realize that another menace was creeping into the country. Since the winds youngsters had defeated Mrs. Lump-Chunk Wad, the Cumulus Cloud, only a couple of sparse rains had fallen. Few flowers shared Fairy’s worry. The majority did not care much: the soil was wet, and Mr. Singing Splash, a creek, was full of fresh, sweet water. Besides, some rainless spans occurred sporadically in the Valley, but there had never been a drought.
Fairy discussed the problem with Mr. Singing Splash, the Creek, and learnt that there was deficiency in underground supply. Fairy decided not to alarm the Valley until she’d talked the issue over with Prince.
The time was passing fast. Here came June. How would the relations between the Fairy of Dew and Prince the Flower have been resolved? I have good reasons to believe that everything would have come to a happy end; a celebration of the magnificent wedding would have become a memorable page of the Valley’s history. But life does not always go the way we expect it to.
An invisible, untouchable monster by the name of drought oppressed the Valley of Flowers. The ground was drying and cracking. Mr. Singing Splash, the Creek, was becoming more and more shallow each day. Without Fairy’s dew the flowers would have died off already. Fairy collected water from every pit remaining in the watercourse of the creek. She gathered the cold moisture from the steep mountainsides. Still, every day Fairy had to lessen the share of dew to each flower.
 
 CHAPTER 90
 
The Zillions of Messengers
 
Prince consulted with Fairy. He informed her that a week back he asked two brother clouds, to bring a rain in the valley. The week was over, but there was neither a rain, nor the brothers themselves. Something was going on wrong. So Prince asked Fairy if Playful-Fluffy and her family could bring some rains into the valley. Of course, Fairy agreed. But how would she do it, remained to be find out.
There was not a cloud above the Valley. The sky was a pure aquamarine with a diamond of the sun in the middle, burning the flowers mercilessly. Only one wind happened to visit the Valley at that time; he was Swift Sail, the Breeze, a messenger from a far Ocean’s corner. He brought word of mouth for Mr. Singing Splash, the Creek and stayed for a couple of days.
Swift Sale was happy to take the errand, yet he worried for a lack of inexperience and was afraid that the search might take significant time. Fortunately, along came unexpected help. The Dandelions, Mr. and Mrs. White Mist, kindly offered a solution and introduced their sons and daughters sitting on their heads: Downy White-One, Downy White-Two, Downy White-Thousand… Downy White… you, my pal, count them yourself, I am tired already.
Swift Sail, the Breeze, whirled the young Dandelions up and soared them into the high sky letting them go: and the hundreds of thousands of happy messengers set off in all directions to fulfill Prince’s will.
 
 CHAPTER 91
 
On the Verge of Despair
 
Meanwhile, the flowers began to suffer from dehydration. Prince was a large flower and his thirst was stronger. In addition, due to loss of blood he needed to drink more than usual. Being aware of that, one day the flowers refused to accept the water from Fairy in favor for Prince.
Prince was surprised to see Fairy so early in the morning. He refused to accept Fairy’s excuses and demanded the truth. She had to admit that the flowers wanted him to use the water as much as he needed, and after that, they would share the remainder.
“No!” denied Prince. “As before, I will have as much as each of my flowers and have it the last.” He said it softly and quietly, but Fairy knew that this softness was harder than a rock. She looked at his cracked lips, nodded meekly and went out. Prince appeared dangerously weak.
Several more days passed. The situation in the valley was dire. Some flowers had already gone. If there would be no rain in a day or two the catastrophe would be irreparable. The next day Fairy delivered to the flowers the last water in the valley. Every flower knew it. Each refused to take the offered drop yielding it to their Prince. Fairy grinned sadly. That task was easier said than done. Wasting no time, she hovered above the flowers dropping water inside the petals and moving further. After the last flower was quenched, Fairy hurried to Prince.
She had been making every effort, keeping each drop reasonably small. Yet, when she approached Prince, she startled in fear: the water was gone; there was not a drop anymore. An acute despair stabbed her heart. She came close to Prince, her beautiful eyes brimming with tears. Prince kept his head up, but his eyes were closed and some paled petals hung down listlessly.
“Prince,” called Fairy. There was no answer. “Prince, darling, it is I, your Fairy. Say something, my heart. Look at me. Listen to me, my love. A new Fairy is talking to you. The other fairy, egotistic and selfish, is no more. Here I am, to show that I am worthy of your love. Hear me, my beloved. You cannot go away, because my life without you is senseless.
“My former independence was merely a sick pride. Now my freedom is everlasting bond of our hearts. My happiness is your need of me. My love is to live for you, live with you, live in the name of you. Look, my noble heart, Playful-Fluffy is coming. I can see her already.”
 
 CHAPTER 92
 
The Last Drop
 
Soaring in the stale air, Fairy caressed Prince’s petals with her cool palms. His eyelids trembled. He opened his eyes,
“Did I fall asleep?” asked Prince, somewhat embarrassed. “I saw myself plummeting into a horrible darkness. I thought I was dying. It was so scary to die before seeing you. There is so much I wanted to tell you. Nothing has been accomplished. I have no regret, Fairy. My short life was blessed immensely by my love for you, my unforgettable goddess. How generously I was rewarded by meeting you, my endless love. I am slipping away. You cannot stop it. Thank you, my beloved that you exist. Forgive me all the unfair words I’ve ever said. Thank you, for saving the Valley. Thank you for being so kind to me. Farewell, my…” His head fell lifelessly to his chest.
“No, Prince, no!” exclaimed Fairy, looking helplessly for any means around. She glanced above: Playful-Fluffy was so close. “You cannot depart me, Prince. It is unfair. I have gone such a long way to my love. My love gives me the right for a miracle. O God, give me the strength to prove it!”
Fairy took his head into the flowers of her palms: a harsh rustle of dried petals was the only answer. Fairy moaned, she leaned over and kissed Prince on his lips. A hot wave of love rolled through her body, melting her icy heart. Fairy turned into a crystal dewdrop and plummeted into the Prince’s heart. His body startled. Prince opened his eyes; and at that very instant the first drops of the so long awaited rain fell upon the Prince’s face.
“Oh, how bittersweet was the first raindrop, which brought me back to life!” exclaimed Prince. “Fairy! My divine Fairy of Dew, where are you? We need to talk. I have to tell you how stupid I was not to trust my heart. Flowers, what is going on? Where is Fairy? Why doesn’t she come to share our joy? Flowers, why are you silent? My loyal flowers, why don’t you rejoice? Tell Fairy that a rain has come…  Tell her that tomorrow we will hold a ball. Tell her that I love her and I want to ask her to be my wife. Oh, how reviving was the first raindrop!”
There was not a sound around. Prince was looking at the flowers in bewilderment. The leaves and petals of the flowers were wet. From rain? It took Prince time to realize that tears have no words.
 
 CHAPTER 93
 
The Farewell
 
After Prince learned the truth, to the end of his days he was unable to fall in love with anyone. He could not betray the memory of his beloved, whose newly born soul he had failed to understand.
His Majesty, The Chief Treasurer of the Fairy Tales tried to console him, reminding him that there would be another Fairy of Dew, who might be even more beautiful, and perhaps kinder.
“No,” responded Prince, “it is all in vain. If you love, your beloved cannot be worse or better, she is simply the one.”
And the Chief Treasurer of the Fairy Tales agreed to that. “In that case,” said he, “with your permission, I will use the story to heal a sick girl; and after that her father will hand the tale to the world. So each time a reader, having opened the book, would bring to life you, Fairy, and all the dwellers of our country, the Land Of Fairy Tales.”
 
 CHAPTER 94
 
GOODBYE
 
That’s it, my noble reader. Don’t be aggrieved by the sad end of this story… Excuse me? What is your question? Oh, I see. What do I want to say with the story? You must answer the question yourself. If I have been able to touch your heart then my main goal has been achieved. The rest I leave to your parents, your teachers, and to your generous soul, of course.
It does not matter how old you are now. I am talking to your heart. Time will come for you to build your own family. Remember, my sincere friend, that beauty is not Love. It is true Love that brings beauty into life and makes you and your beloved the most beautiful and necessary people in all the world.
Do not miss your Love. Prepare yourself. Fill up your imagination with the knowledge and art endowed to you by the generations past.
He and She united by Love create a universe of new life. They need no one else. But the world needs them because their unity is the sole seed of future generations. The light and warmth radiated by them is the hope of the present and a guiding star of the future.
When you become an adult, I invite you, my patient listener, to go to the Enchanted Forest to discover your Glade of Tales to share some of its treasures with your children.
And for now, goodbye, my dear.

THE END