Chapter I


Towns that are named after their local attraction ought to be avoided because they cause trouble even for the people that don’t live there.


Legend said she would come. Reason said she would not. I was one of those cheering the latter on, arguing that legends are usually just a way of getting through the winter. I was fairly disappointed, then, when someone actually did show up.
Yes. Hi. My name is Daffodil. My surname is Superpea. That’s two times bad luck, with deliberate intent. Or whatever they call horrible crimes these days. I live in a place commonly known as Low-of-the-Road, which is more like a hamlet than an actual village. We do have a road here, but it leads only a few kilometres into the surrounding hills and ends there. Also, it’s littered with sheep droppings.
Since I’m talking here, you’re probably assuming that I’ve got a story to tell. Well, yes. I’d never thought I’d say this, but here it is. My great adventure. You’re warned in advance however. I’m not a very eloquent storyteller; people tend to think of me as too pragmatic. For spicy details, try Millie’s version of the tale.
Come to think of it, I wonder how it all started. I was going to say that it all began on the day that Millie appeared in Low-of-the-Road, with her crazy talk and withered flowers. But that would be a false start. No, we’ll have to go all the way back. Let me introduce you to my grandmother, Gran Berrie.
The people of Low-of-the-Road are a superstitious lot, you see. One time, my grandmother predicted that our harvest was going to fail because someone in town had upset the Fairy Folk. We ate nothing but brown beans for weeks, even though the reaping season had successfully passed and our storages were already stuffed with grains. Of course I tried to convince everyone that eating beans had not saved us from starvation, but my attempts remained fruitless.
Well, my Gran Berry had always been unusual in her claims. She believed, for example, that it was best to sleep with a pair of open scissors dangling above your bed. When asked, she would explain that it was to keep the Fairy Folk at bay - they were terrified of iron. It seemed a bit weird, perhaps, that she was so eager to hold her fairies off, but I always assumed this was because one of them had stood her up when she was young. It was a tale she loved to tell, and her only living relative -that’s me - had not been spared over the years. It usually started innocent enough. I would ask whether she had seen the broom, and she’d tell me to look in the sheep shed. A few years ago, I would have asked why the broom was in the sheep shed at all, and not right here in our living room. ‘I know,’ she then would say, ‘the Fairy Folk likes a clean shed to sleep in, during winter. He told me so, you know, when we were young and still in love. Oh, what a romance that was. If only he had not walked out on me, I swear…’ And when she said this, I knew that she didn’t mean my grandfather.

These days, I’ve grown wiser than to ask.

Another thing she liked to talk about was the death of her daughter, my mother. It happened when I was very little, so I don’t remember any details. Apparently she just sort of passed away one day. My guess is she was ill, but we don’t have a doctor here in Low-of-the-Road. Dad had died some years previous, so I never actually knew him. Not that I’m weepy about it. They say that he was an irresponsible drunk anyway, and it was only a matter of time before he boozed himself to death. However Gran always assured me that my father had waited for mom at the gates of heaven, though my mother was in mild confusion over her own sudden demise. It had been eighteen years since she had seen him, and the fact that he was dead and she was seeing him now
really had unnerved her. Or so Gran said. I stopped wondering how she knew this long ago. Instead, I just hoped that mom got over the initial shock.
On the specific morning that stuff started to go weird, I stood at the kitchen sink doing the first morning dishes. It wasn’t much, as just me and Gran lived here and neither of us were very big eaters. I had wondered about our flock yesterday, because it seemed that we were one sheep short.
‘Do you think I should go up in the hills and look for it?’ I asked, clearing away the plates.
‘Possibly,’ Gran said. ‘But you know what might have happened; the Fairy Folk sometimes take livestock for their own benefit.’
‘Well, I don’t think that is very becoming of the Fairy Folk,’ I muttered.
‘You would do well not to look down on them, Daffodil,’ replied she. ´Respect them and you might receive their great gifts in return!´
´Such as what?’ I asked. ‘Wealth? Good fortune?’
‘Well, who knows,’ she grinned with a nearly toothless mouth. ‘It is said they keep large bounty under these hills, you know.’
‘That’s all very well, but the fact is that we can’t do with less livestock. We’re quite short on stockade as it is.’
‘That’s too bad,’ murmured my grandmother. ‘You could be a little greedier. What is one sheep against a pile of gold, eh?’
I closed the cupboard with a snap. ‘Well, I am,’ I said. ‘I’m greedy when it comes to my sheep.’
And so it happened that I was just on my way up our only road, leading into the low, rolling hills when Millie descended that same path towards our village. She wore a pink summer dress, even though summer was well on its way out and trees around us were shedding their leaves like a dog in its moulting.  She had a windswept look over her; her bushy red hair all over the place, her face freckled and flushed. Most peculiar of all were a small posy of flowers in her one hand, a tattered sword in the other. It wasn’t much of a killing weapon, I noticed at once. The blade was dull and blustered. She might have gotten it at an antique shop for all it was worth.

We stared at each other, though I was the one most shocked. Oblivious as she seemed to be about her strange appearance, she smiled at me and said: ‘I’m looking for the prophetess lady. Miss Berrie’s her name, I think. I’m told she lives down here, is this true?’
‘If you mean my Gran Berrie,’ I said, trying to decide whether this girl was a danger to our townsfolk or not, ‘she lives down the road, up the hill, furthest away. Can’t miss.’
‘Ooh,’ the girl said, ‘thanks very much!’ and she made to move past me.
‘Wait a sec,’ I said. ‘Who are you anyways? What do you want of my Gran Berrie?’
‘People told me to go and see her,’ the girl answered. ‘Apparently, she’s a well respected seer in these areas, isn’t she? I’m on a very special quest, I just gotta see her.’
No, I thought, she’d probably be no direct danger for the villagers at all. ‘Well, go ahead,’ I said aloud. ‘Good luck trying to get some sense out of her.’

As I brushed past her, I wondered who had told her about Gran. It seemed clear that she was not from these regions. No village girl would dress like her, let alone wander about these hills alone and with no extra set of clothing. Apart from the robbers that sometimes roamed here, autumn always brought along a drizzling sort of rain. Perhaps she came from one of the cities in the west. She was a long way from home then. I couldn’t imagine what the hell she expected to find up here in the rural areas.
Above me, the sky was gradually darkening. Pulling the hood of the cloak over my head, I quickened my step, hoping to find the missing sheep before another downpour of water hit me.
It wasn’t until midday that I actually found it, huddled underneath a steeping slope. ‘You silly thing,’ I told it, glancing about the hillside. Despite Grans warning, I couldn’t spot a single fairy staring at me from behind a tree trunk, or just around the corner of the grassy slopes. I have to admit, I highly doubted their existence anyway. I mean, what member of the Fairy Folk would ever hook up with my grandmother? No offence to my grandfather of course - he seemed like a sensible, down-to-earth sort of man, which is exactly what Gran really needs (in my opinion) and it’s a pity he’s dead. I miss him.

By the time I had returned the sheep to our flock, I was soaked to the bone and dying for dry clothes and a cup of tea. I had forgotten all about the strange girl, until I opened our kitchen door, my cloak and hair dripping small pools of water on the tiles. There she was, at our kitchen table, on my chair, holding a damping cup between both hands. The sword, I noticed, balanced on tip of the blade against the table-leg, so that it might clatter on the ground any moment. My Gran was seated in front of her. She had a sort of smug look on her face that I didn’t like.

‘Daffodil!’ she said when I entered. ‘Good, you’re here. It took you long enough.’
‘Yes, well, your fairies had well hidden our sheep,’ I said crossly, taking of my cloak, wringing it.
‘Well, never mind, never mind. Now this young lady is said to be named Millie. She’s not from around here.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘We’ve met.’
‘She will be our guest this fortnight,’ Gran said.
‘Really?’ I asked. ‘And where will she be sleeping?’
‘Your room, I think.’
‘’Scuse?’ I said indignantly. ‘And what about me then?’
‘Clean out the shed. It will be warm and dry.’
‘Gran!’ I cried out. ‘We’re not a bloody tavern and I happen to like my bed! I’m not going to sleep in the shed for the next fourteen days - no way.’
‘Oh, it won’t be necessary,’ the girl said. She had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. ‘I can sleep in this shed, I don’t mind.’
‘But really,’ Gran protested. ‘How can we let our guest sleep in that droughty place? With this climate, too?’
‘Your guest,’ I corrected her. ‘Feel free to switch yourself, if you must.’
‘Honestly!’ said the girl. ‘It’s all right! I like the idea of sleeping in the hay. It’s pretty fitting.’
‘That’s all good then,’ I said. ‘Excuse me now. I need to change before I catch a cold.’
So this is how Millie got involved in my personal life. I wonder now, if I had turned around and left, perhaps camping in the shelter of the forest for some days, would Millie have gone on without me? As it was, I helped her to clean the shed, trying to make it fit for a person to sleep in. In return, she helped me to bring in the sheep, though she made quite a lousy shepherdess.
I asked her where she had gotten the sword. Her face immediately brightened, as if she had waited for me to ask all along. ‘It is a bit of a peculiar story,’ she said. ‘I got it in Sword And Stone, further up into the hills.’
‘I know where it is,’ I said. ‘So that’s where you came from.’
‘Yes. Like the name says, there was a stone just on the outskirts of their town, with the sword in it. Maybe you have heard?’
‘I think Gran might have mentioned it,’ I muttered, while supporting a wooden plank with my one arm, intending to repair some broken fences before winter.
‘Well, the local folklore said that anyone that managed to pull the sword from the stone would some day rule a kingdom of his own. That’s what they told me the Fairy Folk had said.’
I glanced over my shoulder. She was blushing, though from embarrassment or excitement, I could not tell. ‘Uh-huh,’ I said, not prepared to encourage her talk of Fairy Folk like Gran did.
‘So, I just kinda… went up there and tried.’ There was definitely some excited gleam in her eyes now.
‘You pulled the sword from the stone?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘When no one ever had succeeded before?’ 
‘I suppose.’
‘So this stone, it’s empty now. Some slit or hole in it, I take it?’
‘Well,’ Millie said, shuffling her feet. ‘The stone’s also kinda…disappeared.’
‘What the heck,’ I said, looking up. ‘Stones do not disappear.’
‘This one did.’
‘Just after you pulled the sword out? Did it just go poof, or did it slowly fade into thin air?’
‘I am serious, Daffodil! I got the sword and returned to the village and when they came up to check, nothing was there. You can go and see the imprint on the grass if you wanna.’
‘No, thanks,’ I said. ‘I believe you would not say it was gone if it were not really the case.’ I held the wooden plank against the fence and began hammering nails in.
Millie looked relieved. ‘So, do you reckon it was the Fairy Folk that took the stone away?’
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘They wouldn’t think it was much decorative once the sword had gone.’
‘Oh, come on,’ Millie pressed on. ‘What do you really think? I pulled out the sword, didn’t I? I fulfilled a legend!’
‘A local tell-tale, you mean.’ I put in the last nail. ‘I think Sword And Stone might want to think about changing their name, that’s what.’

Of course I asked her where she came from. Rumors about her had spread like wildfire in our little village, things like her odd appearance and the fact that she was staying with Gran Berrie fuelled every sort of gossip that people could come up with.
It was one stormy afternoon. Gran had retreated into her bedroom for her usual afternoon nap, and Millie and I were huddled in the kitchen. Well, Millie was the one that did the huddling. She had borrowed an extra cloak and sat shivering by the fire, while I slowly fed logs to the flames. A little miffed, I thought that she had nothing to shiver about; after all, it was me who had gone out to lead our flock to the fields, which lay well over the second hill.
‘So,’ I said. ‘Where are your mom and dad?’
‘Back home.’
‘Which is where?’
‘New York.’
‘New what now?’
‘York,’ she repeated.
‘Ah well,’ I said. ‘Least I’m not the only one living in an unknown shithole like Low-of-the-Road. But I thought you were from the cities.’
‘I am,’ she said. ‘But it’s not from here.’
‘Oh, I see. You’re foreign.’
She nodded. I thought she was being weirdly unresponsive for a girl that liked to chatter your ears off. ‘And may I ask what it is you’re doing here in Low-of-the-Road? What would any foreign city girl want here?’
‘You shouldn’t say that, it’s quite lovely here,’ Millie answered. ‘Anyway, I told you already. I was sent here by the people of Sword And Stone. They said I needed to find Miss Berrie.’
‘And now that you have,’ I asked tentatively, ‘did you get any satisfactory answers?’
She looked hesitant. ‘I don’t know…I don’t really understand what she’s saying, you know?’
I snorted.
‘I know that she’s said to be a very famous prophetess,’ Millie said. ‘It’s just that she’s so cryptic!’
‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘Do you really believe this twaddle? In predictions and prophecies and Grans forecasting Fairy Folk?’
Her eyes went all round, like tiny saucers. ‘Why, don’t you?’
‘Look,’ I sighed, sitting down and feeling that I must talk some sense in this girl. ‘Wouldn’t you think that if any of those predictions were true, they should be kinda self-evident? What if I went around saying that tomorrow the sky will turn purple, would anyone believe me unless it really happened?’
‘I guess not.’
‘I love Gran. She’s been taking care of me for as long as I can remember. But she’s also been telling me nonsense since the day that I was old enough to understand it. He is a secret, but you will know. Or: When death is near, you’re near nowhere.  I’ve been hearing that since I hit puberty!’
Millie stared at me. ‘Well?’
‘Well! That just proves it, doesn’t it?’ I said, raising my arms. ‘It’s all a load of gibberish, no more than that. Maybe the Fairy Folk is real, maybe they gave her a hard blow on the head. I wouldn’t know. But it makes no sense and nothing has ever happened!’
‘Well, you don’t actually know that, do you,’ Millie said matter-of-factly. It was my turn now to stare at her. I was afraid that this might happen, but Grans crazy habits had influenced her earlier that I had guessed. ‘I mean,’ she went on, ‘have you actually ever been almost dead?’
‘Nowhere near dead,’ I snapped. ‘Even if it does mean anything, it’s probably that there’s no afterlife. It’s no big deal.’ For a short moment, I remembered Grans claims about my mom and dad, and how they had met again by the gates of heaven.
I heard the creaking of the stairs and next moment, Gran entered, her grey hair all over the place. ‘I hear you are discussing my gift of providence,’ she grinned. Her voice was still croaky from sleep.
‘Yes, we are,’ Millie said politely.
‘No, we aren’t,’ I grunted. ‘We had just finished.’

Gran sat herself down by the fire, stretching her legs to the flames. She always did this and I had warned her several times that her socks might catch fire if she didn’t look out. She never looked out. ‘It’s a pity,’ she said, ‘that my granddaughter is so sceptic in these matters.’
‘So how did you get the gift, Miss Berrie?’ Millie whispered. Her expression was one of hungry admiration. ‘Was it really the Fairy Folk?’
‘Aah,’ she said, closing her eyes. I heaved a sigh that she and Millie ignored. ‘It happened too long ago. I was a young girl then, about both your ages. In the prime of my youth. Of course I was courted by many boys in this village, but my true love was one of the Fairy Folk. We met on the hill where I herded my sheep. He was so charming. All smiles and flattery… Oh, he had the handsomest smile. And he whispered such sweet things in my ear. It was quite intoxicating.’
‘Gosh,’ Millie said. ‘Was he really one of the fairies? What did he look like?’
‘Handsome, of course! Have you ever seen an ugly fairy man?’
‘To tell the truth, I’ve never seen a fairy man at all,’ I said, rolling my eyes.
‘His curls were brown and soft, his jaw was perfect, just like his nose, oh, and those muscles!’
‘What about his ears?’ she asked. ‘Pointy?’
‘Sorry? Why would anyone’s ears be pointed?’ Gran waved her hand, as though scurrying away an idle thought. ‘But he did have some peculiar traits, of course. It turned out he had a tail…who’d have thought. Hah!’ She cackled. It was quite disturbing.
‘Did you actually sleep with him, then?’ Millie asked.
I flushed, having to stick a fist in my mouth to stop me from laughing.
‘Oh, I did,’ Gran said, with an expression as if they were discussing last nights cooking. ‘He was nothing like your grandpa, Daffodil. Just before he disappeared, I found out that unlike a normal man, he had this amazing-’
‘Okay, Gran. Too much info. Seriously.’
Millie seemed taken aback. And so was I, really. I had never heard this particular detail about Grans stormy love affair.
‘Anyway, after that I suddenly had it in me so foresee nearby and faraway events,’ Gran finished. ‘But Daffodil will have nothing of it.’
‘Indeed,’ I said, ‘I will not. But that is just little me, the rest of the village reveres her. Believe every word she utters to be a true prophecy.’
Gran turned at me with a glazy look in her eyes. ‘Daffodil,’ she said.
‘Oh, sweet goodness, here it comes again. Yes,’ I replied, knowing where this was going to and resenting it. ‘Have you got something new to say?’
‘You are so stubborn, child…’
‘That’s not new. See,’ I turned to Millie, who was looking both shocked and fascinated. ‘This is why everyone thinks she’s splendid. It’s the act…’
‘…but you must give liege to he who demands you to stitch!’
‘…But personally, I think she’s lost her touch. Gran, what’s that? That’s absolutely off the wall!’ I gawked at her.