Idlebones

Tiny Dancer 2

 

Beneath the heavy flagstones of the Kings Throne room a light was
shining. It was dim, and flickering and threw only enough warmth to
let anyone who was watching see two small figures sitting by the table
it stood upon. Before them, a small fireplace was flickering the red
dying embers of a wood fire. Before it stood a small fireguard, over
which were thrown a pair of tiny trousers and a white linen shirt,
both far to small to fit even the smallest child. Perhaps maybe a
child’s doll. The smaller of the two figures rose from it’s seat and
lifted a small black kettle from its place by the fire and poured her
father another cup of hot dandelion tea. Her father took it in his
hands and smiled at his daughter.

“Thank you Gracie. Your a sweet child” he said, cupping his hard hands
about the cup.
Gracie looked at him and smiled back. Her father knew she wanted to
ask him something. He knew what it was too, but he didn’t really want
to have to face the question.
“But where did she go, father?” Gracie said eventually, tucking her
legs beneath her and sitting by the foot of his chair. In the candle
light, her Damione could see the shimmering yellow of her blond hair
move as she said the words, facing the fire.
Damione was an old man. Much older than he looked in fact. But then
his people had always lived long lives. He was, as far as he could
remember, almost 206, but then, he couldn’t be sure. He remembered
having a party for his 150th birthday in the woods beyond the castle
walls, before they had had to run and hide from the villagers who
chased them crying ” Fairies!” and brandishing burning sticks of wood.
It was so long ago, and his mind was prone to mixing things up. Before
that time he had worked as a carpenter. He built strong wood tree
houses for his friends and family, long ladders that could be drawn up
into the tree at a moments notice. He had been the clever one who had
suggested using ropes made of river grass to build bridges from tree
to tree so that they could visit their friends without worrying about
foxes or stoats. Such a long time ago, he thought as he examined his
rough worn brown hands.
Gracie had turned to look at him. She was far too young to remember
the woods, being only 20 years old, if he counted in human years.
Around 10 in Fairy years of course.
Damione placed his cup on the table and ruffled the little girls curly locks.
“She had to go away. Her time was up, and she had to go, I’m afraid”
he said eventually.
“Like Mamma?” the child said, her big blue eyes looking up at him sadly.
“Like Mamma”, he replied, smiling the sad smile Gracie recognised as
the one he used when thinking of her mother.
“Will they be together?” she asked after a moments thought.
Damiones’ smile grew into a broad toothy grin.
“Oh I expect they’ll singing and dancing together even as we speak!”
With that, he jumped to his feet and picked Gracie up by her waist and
started to dance around the little room, humming a waltz, Gracies
short legs swinging in the half light as she giggled and threw her
arms around Damiones neck. They danced until Damiones breath was
wasted and they fell into a slump on to the ground, giggling and
laughing together.
“Your mamma was a wonderful dancer Gracie. Just like you” Damione said
between pants, and cuddled his daughter to him.