Chapter 11 - A Morning of Unexpected Happenings
Hollie’s eyes flew open and took in the golden sunlight spilling through her room. This morning everything seemed so much brighter. So much more—vibrant! The peeling wallpaper somehow looked younger, and even the thin, frayed carpet looked less the color of old pea soup and more the enchanting shade of a tree swathed in verdant green moss.
And Hollie herself…she felt so much more alive!
She bolted to her feet, barely able to contain all the energy she was brimming with.
“What is this?” she asked.
She’d never felt so awake, or so well. There was no hint of a sniffly nose, no puffy, watery eyes, no achy muscles or tired feet, and certainly no desire to curl back up under the covers and sleep the day away.
She was wide awake and ready to get started. No, not started, she thought. She felt like she had the energy of a herd of wild horses. Like she could run all the way to Foxley Cross without stopping. Heck, maybe even make it all 125 miles to Derby itself!
“It’s got to be the elvenstar tea,” she said as she bounded down the stairs. “I’m sure the Codex will know for sure. Gosh, what an incredible world I’ve stumbled into!”
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It’s the tea, alright.
Hollie busied herself at the kitchen table spreading cream and jam on a scone as the Codex lay sprawled open answering her questions.
Elvenstar tea is made of three ingredients: cottontide moss, twilight thistle, and silverleaf lavender.
Cottontide moss resembles spun cotton sugar and emits a sweet aroma. Medicinal Use: Its fibers, when brewed, create a tea that soothes respiratory issues. Magical Use: It may be burned as incense to create a calming and uplifting ambiance.
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53915124643_09c9d63084_b.jpg]
Twilight thistle has petals the color of the twilight sky. Medicinal Uses: Extract helps to relieve insomnia and promotes restful sleep. Magical Use: It may be worn as a talisman for protection during the twilight hours.
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53913991962_632b7ea44e_z.jpg]
Silverleaf lavender is a variant of common lavender with silver-hued leaves. Medicinal Uses: The oil promotes relaxation and aids in healing. Magical Use: It is often hung over doorways to ward off negativity.
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53915327095_99ef8e9623_b.jpg]
“So, if you throw them all together, I guess you end up with the best night’s sleep and the most powerful energy drink ever?”
She took a bite of her scone—it was as crumbly and delicious as she’d remembered—and waited for the Codex to respond.
I wouldn’t say that exactly. It certainly did boost your [Energy]. If you turn to your Stat Page, you’ll see that you now have [200 Energy]. This is only temporary, and tomorrow, if you do not drink any more elvenstar tea, you will revert to your normal [100 Energy].
And though I can’t recall the facts exactly thanks to that hideous magical storm, I do believe there are far more potent and longer lasting teas and potions that you can procure.
“Well, it’s a good thing I still have quite a bit of it left. I’m sure I’ll need it working on Brambleburr Farm tomorrow.”
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Unable to keep still for too long, Hollie finished her breakfast, made her way out to the garden to water the plants, then dashed back upstairs. It was still early in the day. The Cottagers’ Guild meeting was at noon, which meant she had a whole three-and-a-half hours to kill.
She felt uncomfortably jittery, like she’d downed ten cups of coffee—was coffee something they had here? There wasn’t much else to do at the cottage. Perhaps she’d go ahead and get ready and set out for the village. Maybe all the walking would take the edge off and quiet her rushing mind.
Hollie opened the wardrobe in her room.
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53915119293_fb38bbcddd_b.jpg]
“Okay,” she muttered to herself. “It’s my first Cottagers’ Guild meeting. What would be appropriate to wear? I don’t want to look too fancy and end up putting people off. Then again, I don’t want to be underdressed either. I just want to make a good impression.”
There was a sudden, fluttery movement, and a pretty but simple green dress was thrust toward her. Hollie let out a shocked gasp and stumbled backwards, falling onto her bed.
“What? How did…?” She stared at the open wardrobe, where the dress was waving itself at her. “Is there someone, or something, in there?”
Propping herself up on her elbows, she gave the wardrobe a closer look. There didn’t seem to be any sort of person or—thing—in the wardrobe. Just a dress that seemed to want her to pick it up and put it on. Slowly she rose and made her way forward, her heart still racing from the shock.
She’d opened this wardrobe every day since the day she’d first arrived, and nothing like this had ever happened. But then again, Balnochy was a world overflowing with magic. Maybe the wardrobe was alive in some way, like the Codex.
“Are you magical as well?” she asked the wardrobe, not knowing how exactly it could answer her back.
But soon enough she noticed writing on the mirror that hung from the wardrobe’s left door.
I certainly am, love.
“Oh,” Hollie’s eyes widened. She stumbled on, uncertain of what to say next. “I…well…pardon my manners. I had no idea.”
Oh, that’s alright, love. There are certain things you won’t be able to see and do until you reach the appropriate level.
“Oh?”
You just made it to [Cottager] Level 2 last night, didn’t you, love?
“I did.”
And that is why you can see me for what I am now.
“So, you’re telling me that this world—this cottage even—is full of magical things that I can’t yet experience?”
That is what I’m saying. Though, I think at a Level 2 you might also be able to interact with Emily now.
“Who’s Emily?”
Oh, she’s the teapot. She’s got the loveliest voice. Whenever the mood strikes and she gets a song in her head, well, you’ll hear it all through the cottage. And it’ll put you in the best of moods, if I do say so myself.
“Huh,” Hollie said, thinking of all the times she’d handled the teapot and been greeted only with silence. “If the teapot has a name, do you?”
Aye! I’m Fiona. Seamstress, tailor, and stylist of Spritespring Hollow. Pleased to make your acquaintance. You know that dress you found yourself in the first day?
“Oh, I love that one! I wear it all the time!”
I know you do, love. I made it just for you!
Hollie smiled. “Thank you, Fiona, but how did you even do that? One minute I was in another world, and the next I was here, in that dress. How—”
Magic. That’s all I can say, love. I don’t have all the answers myself. I think it’s something you’ll have to find out. And when you do, you can let me know, because I certainly don’t remember. Now, why don’t you go ahead and change into this lovely green dress I’ve arranged for you. It’s not overly fancy, but it’s also not anything you’d be wearing while you’re working in the garden. You’ll look the part of a proper [Cottager]. It’ll be perfect for the meeting.
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With her backpack slung over her shoulder, Hollie traipsed along the now-familiar path that wound its way from her cottage to the stone bridge where it intersected the main road to Foxley Cross. The dress that Fiona had picked out—it still felt rather odd to call the wardrobe by an actual name—was comfortable. The white chemise beneath the emerald green overdress was light and soft, and silvery brocade embroideries on either side of the front lacing gave it the slightest touch of finery. It looked very much the sort of dress she’d seen women wearing the few times she’d trekked into town.
Just before the path left the forest behind, something darting about in the trees caught Hollie’s attention. She stopped, raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, and searched about the limbs and leaves to see what it could be. There was a streak of brilliant gold among the greenery—a bird—and it soon landed on the long, reaching limb of an old oak.
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53915321715_456595a1d4_b.jpg]
It was beautiful beyond belief. It didn’t stay only one color. One moment it was gold, and the next it turned as bright and yellow as the sun, and then its feathers were aflame with the yellow-orange hues of a roaring fire, and finally it was gold once more.
The bird stared at Hollie with sharp black eyes. It looked like a typical songbird, only, Hollie wondered, were they normally so striking? So stunning? She couldn’t peel her eyes away, so great was the hold it had on her.
It tilted its head and began to sing.
She’d heard birds before. Every morning when she awoke, the happy chirrups and calls of the forest birds greeted her ears. Sometimes their voices would turn into song, a few notes strung together and repeated over and over. Beautiful, but rather simple.
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This wasn’t anything like that.
It was more a symphony of sorts. Melody upon melody, layered together into the sweetest, saddest, most inspiring tune she’d ever heard. Her heart seemed to flutter, then fill with the strongest sense of longing. Somewhere deep within, the song conjured up the most beautiful, perfect image—though, if Hollie had been asked what exactly that image was, she wouldn’t have been able to say. Only that it somehow made her happier than anything ever had, yet sorrowful at the same time, because whatever that beautiful image was, it was both so near and so far away.
But from that intense longing, something new within her stirred. She wanted to show the world that beautiful image the melody had conjured in her mind. She didn’t know how exactly—could she paint a picture of it with words? Could she draw it? Sculpt it? Make her own song? Sew something as beautiful? Cook something as delightful?
And then, as quickly as it had begun, the birdsong ended, and with a quick fluttering of its splendid wings, the bird itself was gone. Hollie snapped free of the daze she’d found herself in. She stared at the woods around her, confused.
Now that the song had stopped, she felt rather empty. As if within her there had been a great, blazing fire roaring with life. Now it had gone, leaving behind a gentle, golden glow. For all she tried, she couldn’t remember the melody of the bird’s song. But somewhere within still lingered that beautiful image that she’d seen—or rather, felt—and she still had a desire to share it with others.
Hollie shook her head. It was a strange sensation, though there was something rather familiar about it. Maybe she’d ask Alice. Or Mr. Grimsworth.
Yes! Mr. Grimsworth!
She recalled the sketch of the bird she’d seen in one of his journals. It had the same shape, the same bright hue, the same beady black eyes. If anyone would know anything about the bird, it would be him.
When she finally collected herself, she turned back to the path and began to walk once more.
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The village clock tower showed that it was 11:43 when Hollie finally arrived in town. She’d taken her time today, veered off the path at various points. She’d found one particularly lovely overlook of the village and the surrounding farms when she’d climbed onto an outcrop of rocks on a hill near the road.
She’d sat for a while, her arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting upon her knees, and just watched the scene in silence. Outside the village walls sat the Frothy Oak Brewery, its great waterwheel put into motion by the current of the river that rushed through the valley below.
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53915221819_e616e5a5cc_h.jpg]
Hollie took out the Map from her backpack and unrolled it. Etchings soon fell into place, revealing the names of all the farms she could see from her vantage point. North of Foxley Cross was Greenbottle Farm, the Saint Farm, and the MacGregor Farm. Closer to the hill on which she sat were the Thistletop and Smallgrove Farms. South, close to the river, were the farms belonging to the Goodbarrel, MacBain, and Brambleburr families. Quite a few of them had sheep, and a few also had pigs and cattle, but all of them had large fields that had been tilled and planted, though with what crops Hollie didn’t know.
It was a pretty scene, so idyllic and peaceful from up high. As lovely as it was, she knew it was only made possible by the hard work of the villagers who’d built their homes and shops and farmsteads, and who worked their fields and came together to keep each other safe.
Hollie squinted her eyes to get a closer look at Brambleburr Farm, where she’d start her new job tomorrow. She couldn’t see too well, and then she remembered her spyglass. She drew it from her backpack and raised it to her eyes.
Brambleburr Farm consisted of a main farmhouse—not too big, but not as tiny as her cottage—and a couple of outbuildings. There was a large, fenced in area where sheep roamed and grazed lazily on the grass. Two great fields had already been plowed and planted. The last had only just been started. The rest of it lay empty, waiting to be tilled.
Hollie didn’t see anyone walking about and figured the Brambleburrs must have headed into town for the meeting.
“I guess I should get going myself,” she said, packing up her things. She rose from her seat, dusted off her dress, and gave the valley below one last glance before heading back to the road.
And now here she was, standing in front of the village hall, the jittery feeling from the morning starting to make a comeback—though this time it probably had less to do with the elvenstar tea and more to do with meeting a lot of new people. Foxley Cross wasn’t too big of a place. Between the farms and maybe a few of the folks who lived in the houses in town, she figured there might be a dozen or so [Cottagers]. Maybe twice that if you accounted for families.
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53915221844_1ebdc09382_h.jpg]
She opened the door, but the sight that greeted her was far from a quiet gathering of homesteaders. The room was swarming with people of all types: men, women, children, humans—and people who weren’t humans. Several tables were set up near the entrance as an indoor market of sorts.
There was a short, stout man with thinning gray hair and a long white beard. His eyebrows were thick as bushes and his large hooked nose hung over his mustache. He had a horseshoe in one hand and a metal bar in the other, and he was having an animated conversation with another small man, this one without a beard and a bit pudgy around the middle. Hollie thought he must be the village blacksmith. She remembered Gilda Willowroot saying he was a dwarf, though his name eluded her at the moment.
The next table was manned by another small couple. They looked fairly young, not much older than herself. The man had a mop of sandy hair, and the woman wore hers in long golden ringlets. There were a few cart wheels displayed on the table, and the man seemed to be busy at work repairing one.
There were more merchants and craftsmen at other tables, working, talking, selling their wares, anything from tools to kitchenware to barrels, and boots and clothes and hats. In the midst of the throng, Hollie finally spied a familiar face.
Alice was standing behind a table filled with all the most common supplies from her store. And just like the first time Hollie had stepped into her shop, her bird was perched on her shoulder, eyeing all the faces in the crowd with interest.
“Hollie! You made it!” Alice shouted over the hubbub. She stepped out from behind the table and wrapped Hollie in a warm but ogreishly strong hug. “You’re looking so much better today. That elvenstar tea of Althea’s really works some magic, doesn’t it?”
“You can say that again,” Hollie said. “I’ve had so much energy that I’ve pretty much been bouncing on my toes nonstop! It’s like I’m charged with electricity or something.”
Alice gave Hollie a confused look.
“I don’t get it. How do you charge electricity?”
Hollie laughed and shook her head.
“Don’t worry about it. I think it’s something from where I’m from, though I can’t really explain it myself. It’s just one of those things that works differently here.”
“Well, anyhow, I’m glad you could make it. Cottager Guild meetings are always such fun! And there’s always a good turnout. We’ve got all the farmers from Foxley Cross, and of course a lot of merchants and craftsmen both from this village and others. There’s homesteaders who live a bit further out and only come into town for the Guild meeting and market days. And then we’ve got our neighbors from Willow’s Wind.”
Alice pointed her finger at a few figures on the other side of the room Hollie hadn’t noticed yet.
“That over there is Lady Yarda Lyjen,” Alice pointed at a bear dressed in a red gown with puffy sleeves and gold trim.
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53915221924_c3c35ee605_c.jpg]
“Her husband is Tjiepke Lyjen, Lord Mayor of Willow’s Wind. And that,” she pointed to a prickly little figure about the size of a dwarf, “is Anders Stikkelbark. He’s a Hedgehog who runs the largest apple orchard in the region.
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53913986537_1be8a5df81_b.jpg]
And beside him are Jonne and Jelke Daas, a Badger couple that craft the best cider I’ve ever tasted. I have some in stock if you ever want to try it.”
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53915321680_4f0a6e278c_z.jpg]
Hollie was speechless. Gilda had mentioned talking animals, and she had pictured what they must be like, but to see them in person was something else. She had to remind herself not to gawk. It was she, after all, who was the odd one out here in Balnochy, even if she did blend in well enough with the other humans.
“Who’s this young woman here, Alice? I ain’t never seen her round before.”
An elderly sprite of a woman with a face full of wrinkles and powder puff hair approached Hollie and looked her over with the scrutiny of a farmer inspecting a prized steer.
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53915321655_f0451cd9d1_b.jpg]
“Maybell, this here is Hollie Townes. She’s new to Foxley Cross.”
Hollie smiled nervously at the old woman. As tiny as she was, there was a sharp glint to her eyes that told Hollie she was a force to be reckoned with.
“New, are ya? I haven’t seen you about town. Where abouts are you staying?”
“Well, I’m not living in Foxley Cross exactly. I’ve got a cottage in the woods. In a place called Spritespring Hollow.”
Maybell’s eyes widened.
“Aye, I’ve heard of the place, though I can’t say I’ve been there myself.” She squinted and gave Hollie a suspicious look. “Those woods up there have a strange reputation. I’m not too trusting of anything—or anyone—from that area or beyond.”
Alice crossed her arms and gave Maybell a warning look.
“Now that’s enough,” she said. “You’re a bit too cynical for your own good, Maybell.”
“It’s because I’ve lived long enough to know that’s how you ought to be, Alice. A little wariness can go a long way towards keeping things safe and sound around here.”
“And too much of it,” Alice countered, “can keep the good things out with the bad. And I’m telling you now that Hollie is one of those good things, and that you should learn to be a little more welcoming.”
“Hmmmph,” Maybell said. “We’ll see.” She nodded towards the front of the room. “Meeting’s about to start. Might as well get to our seats.”
The old woman shuffled away and Alice gave Hollie a reassuring smile. “Don’t mind Old Maybell. She’ll come around in time. She’s the village historian. Her family founded the place hundreds of years ago, and she makes it her mission to protect it from all dangers, real or imaginary. Now, let’s go find a seat, shall we?”
They took a seat on the third row from the front. Hollie looked around to try and get a count of exactly how many people were squished into the little hall.
Ten rows, twelve seats a piece, and nearly all full.
“There’s over a hundred people here!” Hollie exclaimed.
“Well, what did you expect?” Alice laughed. “Most people who live in villages and farms are [Cottagers] after all.”
A deep but feminine voice interrupted their conversation.
“Excuse me, but is this seat taken, my dear?”
Hollie turned to see who had spoken and nearly jumped out of her seat when she came face to face with the Bear that Alice had pointed out.
“Oh, not at all,” Hollie hoped her quick response hid the shocked look that she was sure had been plastered on her face. She didn’t want to offend anyone, even unintentionally.
“Thank you,” replied the Bear with a voice that was both elegant and friendly. She took a seat beside Hollie and gracefully smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt.
“How are you today, Lady Yarda?” Alice asked, her white cockatoo still bobbing around on her shoulder.
“Quite well. Though, I must admit that the journey into Foxley Cross was a rather strange one. I've been here countless times, as you know, and my driver has made the trip more often than I, but we somehow got lost along the way."
"Really?" Alice said.
"And it wasn't just me. Everyone from Willow's Wind had the same problem."
Hollie shifted in her seat, a sour, uneasy feeling settling in her stomach as she listened to Lady Yarda's words. This had to be connected to her quest and the problem that had summoned her to this world, and though none if it was her doing, she couldn't help but to feel responsible for it in some way.
"It wasn't so much that we were truly lost," Lady Yarda continued. "It was more like we all somehow forgot how to get here. The only place we seemed able to recall with any accuracy was Willow's Wind itself. As soon as we had left the outskirts of our village, every other place in Balnochy had somehow vanished from our minds!"
Alice's face was a mixture of puzzlement and alarm.
"And how did you all end up finding your way?" Alice asked.
"We just followed the road, not knowing exactly where it would lead, until eventually we found a sign pointing the way to Foxley Cross."
Alice glanced at Hollie, but Hollie couldn't bring herself to meet her eyes.
"I'm sorry that's happened to you," Alice said.
"Oh, it's okay dear. I feel fine now. We all do," Lady Yarda smiled, as much as a bear could smile. "And apart from that strange incident, it was a lovely journey. The weather was nice, and the sky was such a pretty color. How have you been?"
Whatever discomfort Hollie had seen in Alice's face was gone, replaced by her usual bright eyes and friendly grin. But Hollie knew that underneath her cheerful facade, Alice was as unsettled as herself.
“As good as usual. Critter’s been talking my ear off today though, haven’t you?” She gave the bird a friendly pat on the head.
Lady Yarda let out a soft rumble that Hollie realized was a laugh.
“Well, Critter never has been one lacking in something to say. Isn’t that right, dear?”
The bird stretched out its large white wings, gave them a few flaps, and flew straight over Hollie’s head to land on the puffy left shoulder of Lady Yarda’s gown. It nuzzled against her cheek, and Lady Yarda pulled out a few seeds from a pocket in her dress and let Critter eat them out of her giant paw.
“And let me introduce you to my friend who’s new to Foxley Cross,” Alice said. “Her name is Hollie Townes. She’s a [Cottager] who lives in the woods a bit to the north in a place called Spritespring Hollow.”
Lady Yarda nodded her head to Hollie.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hollie.”
For a Lady, there was not an ounce of pretense or haughtiness that Hollie expected would come with such a title. And for a Bear—well, not that Hollie had much experience to go by, but—she wasn’t at all frightening. In fact, Old Maybell had given her more of a start than Lady Yarda.
“It’s good to meet you too,” Hollie replied.
“Ahem!” A loud, rumbly voice interrupted the friendly chattering around the room, and everyone turned towards the front of the hall where a short, round, and rather jolly looking man—or was he a halfling—with a red face and a crown of graying brown curls stood with his hands clasped together.
image [https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53913986327_630013a5c1_b.jpg]
“Sorry to interrupt all you fine folks, but I dare say it’s about time to get this show going. So, welcome to you all. I’ll be your speaker this afternoon, and I’ll be talking to you all about how you can increase your harvest of [Gold] level crops.” The little man hobbled around a bit, and Hollie noticed that one of his feet was completely wrapped in bandages. “Oh, and if for some strange reason you don’t happen to know me,” at this, everyone gave a polite chuckle, “I’m Bernard Brambleburr, head of Brambleburr Farm.”