[f] Awaiting Inspiration: A Tale To Begin With
“Arin!” Iselle cried from the hearth across the room. “The door!” She put down the bedding she was removing from a sack and pulled her shawl tight about her.
Arin kicked the door shut as he set the stool he was carrying, along with another linen sack and a small crate, slowly onto the floor, shaking his head all the while. He looked over at his daughter where she sat on the edge of the stone hearth with her little arms folded. “Maybe she should finally put some stockings on, there, eh, Thea?” he said.
Thea merely looked up for a moment with her lower lip stuck out, just as it had been all morning. Then she turned her furrowed brows to the flat stones beneath her once again.
“I wouldn’t need to if you’d just shut that door when you came in,” Iselle said, throwing a bundle of pillowcases in his direction. Arin grinned and easily dodged the wayward missiles.
Arin scooped up the pillowcases and returned them. He gave Iselle a questioning glance as he nodded toward their daughter. Iselle shook her head. Arin’s own brows furrowed, but Iselle mouthed the words, “She’ll be fine,” before shaking and refolding the pillowcases.
Arin sighed. “I’ll be in the bedroom,” he said, picking up two of the sacks by the wall, and the crate he’d brought in. He looked at Thea once more, but she had hunched even lower to the warm stones around the hearth. He left them in the hearth room and walked through Thea’s room to the master bedroom beyond.
“Thea,” Iselle said after Arin left. “Come on, now. Help us put things away. There’s plenty to do and we don’t want to lose the day.”
“What’s the point,” Thea mumbled. “Can’t go outside anyway. Can’t do anything, here.”
Iselle snapped out another sheet from the sack. “You know that’s not true. Now come over here and help me fold.”
Thea got up to help, but held her brows together tightly. She held one end of the sheet, but glared down into its fold.
“You know, darling,” Iselle said, looking at her daughter from the other end of the sheet, “you really are much less pretty when you pout.”
Thea scowled. “I don’t care. Nobody can see me, anyway.”
Iselle sighed.
Arin spoke up from the bedroom in back. “It’ll only be like this for a little while, kiddo.” He walked back into the room and picked up some wooden planks for shelves. “We’ll be able to move into town soon enough since I’ve already found work.” He looked at Thea, who continued to stare darkly at the bedding she folded mechanically. “That is, if that’s what we want to do then…” He looked at Iselle, then left them alone again.
“I don’t want to move into that stupid town,” Thea said when he was gone. She made the last fold in the sheet quickly and threw it down onto the pile of sheets Iselle had started. She stamped her foot once. “I want to go home!”
“Darling,” Iselle said calmly, lifting an old quilt out of the bag. “We know this isn’t easy for you, but you need to understand that it isn’t easy for any of us.” She held the quilt softly in her hands, rubbing it gently along the worn seams and faded patterns. “We all had to leave things behind.” She turned to her daughter who was kicking the toe of her boot at an old gouge in the plank floorboards.
“Thea,” she said. “Listen, darling. I know you had to leave your friends and we had to leave our families, but we had no choice. Your father hasn’t been able to find steady work since the shipyard and docks were lost in the storm and my mending and sewing isn’t enough for us to live on.” She reached out a hand to touch Thea’s hair. Thea looked up at her mother from under her bangs. “Listen to me. We’re trying to do the right thing, and we want you to understand.” She looked at her daughter closely. “The right thing is not always easy.”
Thea shrugged her mother’s hand off. “But why couldn’t papa just find another job? Why did we have to leave?” She kicked again at the floor, then brushed past Iselle and grabbed another sheet from the bag. The quick tear of fabric could be heard, and Thea’s eyes shot wide open as she froze, holding the torn edge of a faded, lace-edged sheet in one hand.
“Thea Illane Fairweather!” Iselle’s sudden cry shot through the room and Thea shrunk back quickly, her pout gone. “That is quite enough!” Iselle took the sheet quickly but carefully from Thea’s limp hand and pointed into the back of the house. “Go help your father move things into the bedrooms. Go! And no more lip, young lady, or you can clear the cart house and stable out as soon as the storm’s over.” She turned to the white light of the front window and peered at the sheet. The tear on the corner was small, but she held it gingerly.
Thea moved quickly into her bedroom, looking directly at the floor. She bumped into her father coming out. When she looked up, she saw him looking past her at her mother. His face was alert, tense. When he looked down, though, the tightness was gone.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go keep you out of trouble.” He picked up a smaller bag from the wall and handed it to her. “Why don’t you separate your clothes, and I’ll set up the shelves in your room.” He smiled at her as he guided her into the back of the house. “Go on.”
***
“My compliments to the cook!” Arin said, putting his spoon into his empty bowl and patting his stomach. The smells of wood smoke, chicken broth, and stewed vegetables hung warmly in the small house. Iselle smile at her husband and patted his arm as she sipped her own soup. “And to the cook-ette,” he said, looking at his daughter across the crate that was doubling as their table.
Thea lifted spoonfuls of her soup and poured them back down into her bowl. Her body rocked slightly as she kicked her feet under her stool. “Hmph,” she grunted.
Iselle sighed. “Why don’t you ask your father if he’ll bring in your toybox next?” she asked her daughter. “I think it’s still in the cart. You can start making your room just the way you want it.”
Thea dribbled more soup back into her bowl. “I don’t want that room.”
“Well, darling,” Iselle said, breathing deeply, “it’s yours now whether you want it or not, so-“
“But I want mine!” Thea dropped her spoon into her bowl with a splash. Flecks of chicken broth and bits of celery and carrot littered the crate top and sprayed Iselle’s hand.
“Thea!” Arin’s voice was sharp. “That,” he said slowly, staring hard at his daughter, “is enough. I don’t want to hear another word.” Thea opened her mouth, but Arin cut her off. “No more!” Thea clamped her mouth shut, folded her arms, and stared at her soup. Arin continued, “First, you’ll apologize to your mother for splashing her, then you’ll apologize to both of us for your terrible attitude all day.”
Thea pulled back on her stool and stared at her mother’s bowl. “Sorry, mama,” she said quickly.
“For?” Arin’s voice was firm.
Thea sighed heavily and the motion brought her eyes up. She saw Iselle dabbing at her hand and then the tablecloth with a kitchen rag. Thea paused. “I’m sorry, mama,” she said slowly as she caught her mother’s tired eyes. “I’m sorry for splashing you with the soup.” Thea dropped her eyes.
“Better,” Arin said.
Iselle watched her daughter sit with head hung down and shoulders fallen. No one spoke for a moment. The caw of a wayward crow came from somewhere outside.
Arin continued to look hard at his daughter. “Well?”
Iselle put her hand on Arin’s arm as Thea started to lift her head. “That’s enough. I think she understands. Right, darling?” Thea nodded at the table. Iselle looked to Arin with soft eyes. “She’s upset, and that’s understandable. We’re all a bit out of sorts.”
She looked out the front window. The sun had finally begun to cut through the heavy grey clouds, and the snowfall had stopped. The reflected shine lit the world outside from above and below. The wind could still be heard, and occasionally felt, in drafts around the windows and under the door, but it had mostly dropped off. Above the pine trees across the yard, a lone crow glided past, cawing again.
“Why don’t you play outside?” Iselle asked. “I’m sure your chickens have been able to find us here, and they’re probably quite cold.”
Thea folded her arms and gave her mother a disapproving look. “They’re imaginary, mama. They don’t travel. And they’re for babies anyways. I don’t play with them anymore.”
Arin collected their bowls and brought them to the basin near the door. “Then you can scout around for grellin, pixies, and any other faerie folk, hereabouts. Let ‘em know we’re friendly and all.”
“Papa,” Thea said, giving him the same look she’d given her mother. “I’m not a baby anymore.”
Arin spread his hands and raised his eyebrows. “Well, Mr. Grism, the man who hired me last night? He told me that there were always strange things going on around here. More than one person has been known to see the Fae, here, he says.”
Thea eyed him suspiciously for a moment.
Arin held her stare with his own look of innocence. “It’s just what I was told, kiddo.”
Thea looked at her mother, who shrugged, then back at her father.
“You think?”
***
“Papa, all I found was a noisy crow and this bird’s nest over there in the trees. See?” Thea held the plate-sized, twig-and-bark nest in her snow-covered mittens for her father to see. “But no eggs or chicks.”
Arin shut the door behind him as he stepped outside. He looked at the nest. “Must’ve fallen out in the storm. That’s too bad.”
“Can we put it back? What if the birds are lost?” Thea grew concerned and looked hard at the nest. “What if they can’t find their home.”
Arin put his hand on Thea’s head. “I’m sorry, kiddo, but you know that once a person touches a nest, the bird’s won’t ever return to it.” Thea’s face dropped and she lowered the nest. “They’re very picky creatures, that way.” Thea’s face did not change. “But it’s their home.”
Arin shivered in the breeze, then smiled and pat her head. “Don’t worry too much about that. They can whip up a new one in no time.” He started walking to the cart house. “So, did ya spook any maddlings or goblins?”
“Papa,” Thea said, following her father and putting on her adult face, “there’s no such thing as faerie folk.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know?”
“I been looking everywhere.” Thea swept her arm out to cover the yard, where her little booted tracks cris-crossed the snow among the large stones in the yard, and in and out of the stand of small pines that faced the front and side of the house.
“You checked in Herrick’s stall, did you?” Arin grinned, noticing no child tracks toward the cart house.
“No,” Thea admitted as they approached. “You think they might be in there?” Arin pulled open the doors and she hopped ahead to peer into the large horse’s stable.
“To be honest,” Arin said, shaking his head as he lifted a bag of oats for the whinnying horse, “No. Not unless they were hoping to be eaten. Relax there, fella,” he said, patting Herrick’s chocolate brown head above the eyes. The draft horse snuffled and snorted his way through the oats as if his very life depended on it. “Every meal’s your last, eh?” Arin stroked the strong flanks. “But you did well, fella. Real well. This was a long trip. Thank you.”
Thea frowned and tugged at her father’s sweater. “You said there were faerie in here.”
Arin crouched down to face Thea. “Oh, there are, darling, but they don’t tend to like being seen. Mostly bashful, I guess. But they’re so good at hiding,” he said, dropping his voice and looking around the inside of the cart house, “they could be standing right in front of you,” he paused, looking intently over Thea’s shoulder, “and you’d never,” Thea turned slowly to see for herself, “ever,” Thea looked intently towards the pile of hay in the corner, “SEE THEM!” Arin shouted, squeezing Thea from the sides.
Thea squealed in terror and delight and slapped her father’s arms. “You cheated!” She said, breathing hard and giggling as Arin laughed. “It’s not funny!” She stuck her tongue out in mock anger. “There’s no such thing.”
Arin shrugged and stood up, smiling. “Oh, there are indeed such things, my doubting little girl. And they can do far more than hide. Far more. This land is full of magic and wonders.” He turned back to the horse. “You’ll see.”
Thea looked at her father curiously for a moment, then looked around her at the stable, the walls of the cart house, the roof-beams, the great wide doors, and the bright white, frosted world beyond. She looked back to her father as he removed the empty feedbag from Herrick’s grasping lips.
“That’s enough then, boy,” Arin said, rubbing the horse’s snout. He hung the bag on a nail and headed back out into the snow.
Thea followed him. “Seriously?” she asked, looking at the snow-shrouded stones and trees.
Arin looked around them as they walked. “I can’t prove what I haven’t seen, Thea, but if there’s one thing that being with your mother has taught me,” he said, looking down at his daughter, “it’s that miracles do happen.” They walked side by side in silence for a few moments until Arin stopped at the door to the house and kicked the snow from his boots. “Coming in?”
Thea looked around again. The trees and road and field were covered in a bright, silent white beneath the wide blue sky. “Not yet,” she said.
Arin smiled. “Good.”
Thea moved back towards the trees carrying her nest. She stepped carefully, trying to stay in her own earlier footsteps.
“Arin,” Iselle said, coming to the open door, “the door.”
“Oops! There I go again. Have fun, kiddo. Sorry, lovely.” Arin gave his wife a peck on the cheek and moved inside.
Iselle watched Thea high-stepping through the snow. “Don’t go too far, darling!” she called.
“I won’t,” Thea called back without turning around.
“Do you want another sweater? It’s still cold!”
“Iselle!” Arin said from inside. “She’s fine. Leave her be.”
Iselle didn’t turn. “But it’s cold,” she said.
“I know,” came Arin’s reply, “so shut the door!”
Iselle turned back into the house, narrowing her eyes. She shut the door behind her as she wagged a finger at him. “Now you listen to me, you old coot…”
***
Thea carefully picked her way back and forth among the snow-covered pines, carrying the abandoned nest. Her tracks doubled and trebled over themselves from her earlier faerie search, and she couldn’t quite remember where she’d found the nest. The wind picked up for a moment, pulling snow in small tufts from the nearby branches. It pushed briskly past Thea’s nose, and slid quickly up her arm through the space between her mittens and her sweater. She shivered and pulled her sweater down to cover her chilled skin.
Another caw sounded close behind her. She turned in time to see an ink-black tail slip behind a tree to her left.
“Is that you?” Thea called out. “Is this your home?” She lifted the nest higher and followed the bird’s cries. When she rounded the tree, she saw only her own tracks on the ground, and the clear blue sky above. “I just want to help,” she said.
“Thea?!” Her mother’s voice rung out in reply. “Thea, where are you?”
“I’m here, mama,” Thea said, still looking for the crow.
“Come where I can see you,” Iselle said. “I told you not to go too far.”
Thea walked back towards the house until she could see her mother standing in the doorway with her arms wrapped tightly around her. Iselle waved her closer. “Come on, darling, it’s cold and I don’t want you getting lost.”
Thea hung back. “Mama, please? It’s not that cold and I want to give the crow back its house. Please?”
Iselle was silent for a moment, watching, and the crow cawed again from somewhere back in the trees. Iselle finally smiled and nodded. “Just stay in sight of the house.” She had not finished before Thea had turned back into the trees. “Not too far!” Iselle shouted.
“Okay,” Thea answered.
Back in the trees, the crunch of Thea’s boots through the snow crackled in the air. She retraced her steps to where the crow had gone round the tree, but it was still not there. “Hello?” she asked into the frosty air. “Mister Crow?” Silence.
She slumped her shoulders and knit her brows, then looked down at the nest in her hands. “You can’t find your home because I have it,” she said softly. “And papa says you won’t ever come back to it.” She lifted the nest closer, then let it hang in her hands again. “I’m really sorry for picking it up,” she said to the trees and air. “And I’m real sorry I forgot where I got it, too. I can’t even put it back.” She looked at the zigzag maze of her footprints in the snow, then back toward the house. She could see her front window through the trees, and the short brilliant gleams of reflected sunlight speckled the air from her mother’s crystals in the window. Thea sighed. “I want to go home, too.”
“I wish I could at least help you find a way back, Mister Crow, wherever you are.” She turned and looked at all the trees around her and across the surrounding land. Pockets of miniature forests dotted the soft hills and valleys that rolled on and on out of sight. “But even if I put it back, you’d probably never find it.” She turned back to her house. “And it would never be home for you again, either.” She shrugged, shivered in a new breeze, then started walking back to the house.
Suddenly, she stopped, staring ahead.
***
Iselle was in the bedroom helping Arin steady the shelves as he screwed them together when the door banged open and shut. “Thea? Are you okay, darling?”
“Uh-huh. Just getting some stuff.”
“What?” Iselle asked, coming out to the hearth room, but the door banged shut again as she entered. “Thea?”
“She’s fine, love,” Arin called from the bedroom, “but I won’t be if you don’t come back here and hold up your end of these shelves so I can finish!”
Iselle took a quick look out the window at Thea traipsing back through the snow with her hands cupped in front of her. “What’s she doing?” she said aloud.
Arin’s voice grew strained. “Now she’s finally occupied, you want her underfoot and sulking again? Leave her be and help…me…hold this!”
***
“Mama, where’s your sewing cloth and stuff?”
Iselle stood in front of the hearth, separating out the rest of the pots and pans on another of Arin’s shelves. “Over here in these two bags. And shut that door! I haven’t unpacked those things yet. Why?”
Thea shrugged. “Can I use some of the red and white ones?”
Iselle looked at her daughter. “Why?”
“I’m making something.” Thea’s lower lip started to push out.
Iselle paused, watching her daughter closely, then sighed slightly and nodded. “Alright. You can use some from this bag. It’s mostly scrap pieces.” Thea moved quickly to the bag. “But not the lace and not the nice white pieces. I don’t want to have to clean them. Okay?”
“Mmmm,” Thea mumbled, rummaging through the bag. Iselle watched her for a moment, then returned to her sorting.
***
Arin carried more shelving planks into the house. “She just asked me for some of my brass nails and a couple barrel hoops.” He stood proudly in hearth room for a moment, looking back out the window. “I think she’s going to grow up like her old coot of a dad!”
Iselle came in from the bedrooms. She lifted another bag. “Did she ask for a hammer?”
Arin’s smile faded. “Hm? Huh. No. No, she didn’t. Isn’t that odd. Hm.” He looked back out the window. “Well, I’m sure she’ll be back for it soon.”
It was Iselle’s turn to smile. “Of course, dear.”
***
Arin’s stomach rumbled ominously as he helped Iselle make Thea’s bed.
“Well,” Iselle said in mock shock.
“It never lies,” Arin said, grinning. Through the doorway, he could see the window in the hearth room. Outside, the early sunset warmed the tips of a few ranging clouds. “Sun’s heading home, too. Must be –“ He looked around quickly. “Where’s Thea?”
Iselle’s face dropped. “She was just in…I don’t know? I got so caught up in the …”
They moved quickly to the hearth room, Iselle to the window and Arin to the door. “I don’t see her,” Iselle said quickly.
“It’s getting dark.”
“She’s fine,” Arin said firmly. “She’s fine. She’s fine.” He swung the door open and took a deep breath to call out, then his shoulders relaxed and he exhaled quickly. “She’s right there.”
“Where?” Iselle snapped, rushing to the door.
They looked out under the sunset, into the nearest stand of pines. Between two trees they could just make out Thea’s little form moving back and forth, and a soft breeze carried her muffled voice across the quiet air.
“Who’s she talking to?” Arin asked.
Iselle smiled and picked up her heavy shawl from the stool next to the door. “Her chickens.” She hooked Arin’s arm with her own. “She’s playing. Let’s go see what she’s been doing all afternoon.”
As they approached, Thea’s voice grew clearer and her own busy movement between the trees covered the sound of Iselle and Arin’s steps. “And you, you sit there. Yes. Good. Oh, don’t cover the house! There. He’ll love –“ She turned her smiling face when she heard her parents, but it dropped when she saw her mother. Thea stood on one side of a pine tree in the middle of tying a white lace ribbon to a lower branch that was free of snow. “I’m sorry, mama.” She dropped her hands. “But it was just for Mister Crow.”
Iselle’s face was tight as she looked at her grandmother’s wedding lace tied to the pine branch. A spot of pitch dabbed the edge at one point.
“Wow, darling,” Arin said to Thea as he softly nudged Iselle, “Did you do all this yourself?” He nudged Iselle again. “Doesn’t this look great?”
Iselle took a deep breath and looked away from the wet lace to the tree itself.
Scraps of red, blue, orange, and white were tied in little and big bows around the bottom half of the tree. Where the snow still held to the needles, the colors shone all the brighter. Brass nails glistened as they hung suspended from copper wire draped stiffly across several branches. The smaller of the barrel hoops hung awkwardly on one side, shining wetly in the dying light.
Iselle’s breath caught once more, however, when quick sparkles of light drew her eye to the center of the tree, where her crystal window pendants hung together, forming a rough circle.
“The nest,” Arin said.
“What?” Iselle hissed.
“The nest,” he repeated.
Iselle looked again and saw the bird nest tucked in just behind the circle of pendants.
Thea spoke quickly. “I just wanted to make sure the crow knew how to find its way home even though you said it won’t come back I thought maybe if I make it pretty enough and helped it find its way back maybe it would and these are the prettiest things I know because you love them so much so I thought…” She took a breath and looked at her mother with big brown eyes. “I’m really sorry I took your things, mama. I know you said no white stuff, but it’s so pretty and you didn’t actually say not to use your crystals so-“
Iselle looked hard at her daughter, cutting her off. “That’s because you didn’t bother to ask, young lady.” Thea stared at the ground, where her bootmarks and bits of muddied scrap cloth littered the snow around the tree.
Arin leaned over and whispered into Iselle’s ear. “Sometimes the right thing isn’t easy.”
Iselle looked at him in surprise.
Arin shrugged, grinning. “Big ears,” he said.
Iselle looked at him for a moment more, then back to her daughter, then at the half-covered tree. She took a slow, deep breath and squeezed Arin’s hand before turning back to the house.
“Where you going?” Arin asked.
“Help her cover the rest of the tree,” Iselle called back. “I think I have some more pendants in the chest in our room.”
Thea looked up quickly, confused. Arin smiled and rubbed her head. She began to smile, too.
“Give me some of that wire, there,” Arin said.
***
“It’s a beautiful home,” Iselle said, standing at the window. Thea held her hand as they looked out into the cloudless, moonlit night at the glistening snow-covered land. The bow-covered tree could just be seen as moonlight sparkled from a dozen crystal pendants, lines of brass nails, and the barrel hoops, all swaying in the soft breeze.
“If Mister Crow doesn’t come back,” Arin said behind them, “then he’s a sure fool.” Thea reached back and squeezed him. He hugged her back. “Now to bed! It’s late, and who knows what you’ll do tomorrow.”
“I love you, papa,” Thea said, hugging him again.
Arin lifted her up. “I love you, too, Thea.” They kissed goodnight and he set her down again.
Iselle led Thea off to bed and Arin looked out at the sky. He opened the door and breathed deep of the crisp air. His eyes rested on the tree once more.
“I love you, mama,” Thea said in the bedroom.
“I love you, too, my beautiful, very clever, little girl,” Iselle replied.
Arin smiled where he stood, listening to the quiet night and the soft rustle of snow brushing across snow in the light breeze. He moved to shut the door when the top of the tree fluttered. Arin stopped, staring at the darkness atop the sparkling tree. He craned his neck and stared harder, but no light reflected from that spot. It flapped again, then, twice, then settled.
“Arin!” Iselle called. “The door!”
Arin blinked and caught an inky wing flapping into the tree-line. He watched for a moment more, but nothing moved.
“Arin!”
“Huh,” he said. A bemused smile lifted the corners of his mouth and eyes as he shut the door.
***
The Beginning.