Tale 28- The Fairy Door

 Arriving in a town along the mountain path, Sarafelle decided to go searching for a tavern for them to buy food and water, leaving the Traveler for just a moment all alone. Leaning on a barrel, the girl observed her surroundings, before the nearby pine leaves began to rustle in the wind as snow fell from atop them. Landing on the young girl’s hood, she pushed the flakes off, turning to stare into the dark forest. A rustle suddenly startled her, someone clearly in the trees. Completely turning to face the trees, she felt herself tense. She couldn’t risk being caught whilst Sara was busy, so she kept a close eye. She wouldn’t be caught unaware again. Heart pounding, she waited for another rustle, but nothing moved. Perhaps it was just a stray cat or rabbit rustling around? Maybe an owl, or a mouse climbing up the trees? She breathed slowly, calming down. There was nothing there…for now. Nothing was hidden there in the darkness, nobody was watching her. Regaining control of her breathing, Sarafelle reappeared, taking her hand gently and leading her into the tavern, where the two sat. The local drunks were all telling tales, the Traveler timidly listening in. Despite it being rude to eavesdrop, she got the desperate sense that nobody was going to tell her anything. Straining, she heard one of them begin telling a new story, one which she later named ‘the Fairy Door’.

‘There’s a tree at the edge of the forest, where once a year a tiny little door appears in its roots. Out of it comes a little fairy, who grants those who knock three times and bring a precious treasure good fortune. She gives them luck, allowing regular men and women to be blessed with the ability to chase their dreams in a much easier fashion than if they were merely going about their days. Beware though, the tree and door change location every single year, as if it uproots itself through magic. But, anyone who finds it will be granted incredible fortune, and be blessed with magic said only to exist in stories.’

The drunk finished his tale, the Traveler writing it down quietly. Only short, unfortunately, but that’s typical of taverns. She was lucky to have got a longer story the previous time. Sighing, she leaned back against her chair, her gaze drifting to the ceiling. Closing her eyes, she dozed off.

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