Aleta burst through the trees like a sunbeam given wings, her chubby cheeks dimpled with delight. The little wood sprite zipped through the dappled air, arms flung wide, laughter trailing behind her like a ribbon. But just as she neared her sister, she miscalculated her landing.
With a squeal, she hit the leafy forest floor at full tilt, skidding through a layer of damp, decaying leaves and knocking Merrilee clean off her feet. Both sisters tumbled in a tangle of limbs and mossy curls, finally landing in a breathless heap against a toadstool the size of a footstool, soft and springy like an old cushion.
“Hahahaha!” Aleta’s giggles bubbled up like brook water. “That was so much fun!”
Merrilee, slightly less amused, groaned as she wriggled out from beneath a particularly musty oak leaf that clung to her hair like a reprimand. “I just hope our grand entrance didn’t damage the cluster of trilliums I was trying to uncover.”
Aleta’s expression sobered in a heartbeat. “Oh no! Mama says they’re rarer every year.” She dropped to her knees beside Merrilee and began scooping leaves away with urgent little hands. “Please, please be all right…”
Fortunately, the delicate wildflowers had escaped with only one bent stem. Still, Merrilee reached out, fingers glowing faintly with green magic.
“No!” Aleta yelped, swatting gently at her hand. “Don’t waste your magic, Merrilee. Mama told me to make sure you conserve your power. You’re going to need it!”
Merrilee blinked. “Need it for what?” Her brow knit into a fine pale arch.
Aleta slapped her own forehead in theatrical dismay, imitating a gesture she’d seen humans do on the edge of the forest. “Oh, stars and seeds! I almost forgot why I came flying here like my tunic was on fire!” She grabbed Merrilee’s hands and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Prince Sterling has announced the Bridal Tourney! And Mama and I—we think you have a real chance!”
Merrilee’s face shuttered as she turned away, gliding over the forest floor once more, her eyes scanning the mossy ground for other hidden treasures of spring.
“Not interested,” she said coolly, brushing aside a crinkled fern frond to reveal a ring of trout lilies huddled together like shy maidens.
Aleta wasn’t deterred. With a huff and a flutter, she plopped down beside her sister and threw her arms around her from behind. “I know Ambrosine broke your heart,” she whispered, her voice suddenly soft, her fingers pressing lightly against Merrilee’s back to send a gentle pulse of magical cheer into her sister’s heart. “But just think—if you became a royal, you could help our woods in ways we’ve only dreamed of. We’d finally have a voice in the palace. And Prince Sterling… he’s said to be not only handsome, but kind. Maybe you could even fall in love again.”
Merrilee turned and drew her sister into a proper embrace, resting her cheek briefly against Aleta’s flower-scented hair. “You are sweet,” she murmured. “You always believe the best of me.” Her voice grew quieter. “But betrayal changes a person. I hope you never understand that firsthand.”
She kissed Aleta’s forehead and pulled away gently.
For a while, they worked in silence, tugging away damp leaves and coaxing shoots into the open air. But soon Aleta began to huff and grumble, flinging a soggy clump of moss aside.
“See?” she cried. “This is why you should marry the prince. Then we wouldn’t be stuck dragging around these stinky leaves, trying to save every drop of magic. Just look at my tunic!”
Merrilee glanced down at her own frock—once pale green, now peppered with flecks of brown and black. She sighed. “We better rinse these out before the mold sets in.”
“Oooo!” Aleta mock-shivered, already grinning. “It’s going to be so cold.”
Merrilee narrowed her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. Her mischievous sister clearly wanted an excuse to splash someone.
They took flight again, darting through the trees until they reached a sun-dappled glade where a small pond shimmered like glass. On the bank, the enormous figure of Bulwark the Bullfrog dozed on a lily pad, his mossy green skin blending with the early spring reeds.
“Is your blood too cold to sing a duet with my sister?” Aleta teased, fluttering above his bulbous eyes.
Bulwark blinked slowly. Then, with a deep breath that puffed out his throat like a bellows, he croaked, “Dum de dum de…” and began the rumbling bass of Spring Song.
Merrilee rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She hadn’t sung anything cheerful in what felt like a hundred seasons. Still, for Bulwark—and her sister—she found herself humming along. Her voice, low and velvety, poured into the clearing like warm honey, so unlike the high, bell-like trills of most fairies. It was wind over hollow bamboo, dusk settling over the trees, a lullaby hummed by a mother to a child she hopes will sleep without dreams.
Tenderly, Wind nurses
Storm’s wounded blossoms
So doth the Divine’s love
Mend broken hearts…
As her voice rose, other bullfrogs joined the harmony, and soon a choir of tree frogs added a light, twining descant. Fairies working nearby paused, drifting in like fireflies to listen.
The impromptu symphony attracted an audience of woodland creatures and other fairies working in the forest.
As the chorus faded to silence, the fairies outstretched their arms toward Merrilee and bowed in unison, as was the custom for showing gratitude when a fairy gifts them with a song.
“It is so good to hear you sing.” Aunt Jossaweb praised her, though her eyes were solemn.
“Don’t you think Merrilee has a chance to win the tourney?” Aleta asked their aunt.
The fairies who had just bowed with pleasure at Merrilee’s voice now looked uncomfortable, averting their eyes.
Finally, Jossaweb broke the awkward silence. “You have a beautiful voice, Merilee. The sort of voice that can calm a storm cloud with just the slightest magic. But the fairy lasses from the big provinces have the time, wealth, and magic without limit to train their voices.”
“And they are accustomed to performing for large audiences, not just a few dozen fairies in a hamlet like ours,” another fairy agreed.
Everyone turned to Aative, hoping he would gently discourage Merrilee so she wouldn’t face yet another discouragement. Yet they trusted their village sage, who could have had a grand position in the palace since he held the wisdom of the ages and had even studied the Holy book of the humans. They all knew to wait patiently because he was slow to speak when called to make a judgment concerning their tiny community’s future.
Finally, he nodded his head and announced, “You should accept the prince’s invitation. The fact that you are untrained increases the charm of your voice. It’s natural and imperfect, like so many beloved treasures of creation. Its unique tone and timbre will stand out amongst the bell-like trills of the other maidens.”
Aletta gleefully spun in the air and then circled the pond, chanting, “My sister will soon be royal! My sister will soon be royal!”
Bulwark the Bullfrog galumphed his agreement with Aletta, then plunked back into the pond, drenching Merrilee and causing Aletta’s giggle to ripple across the pond.
The other fairies were still chuckling as they returned to the forest to aid more buds in breaking through the remnants of autumn.
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of To Sing an Elven Song! Tell me if you enjoyed reading fairy tales and fantasies as a child like I did. Who was your favorite author of whimsical tales?
After I had finished writing the first chapter of my tale, I realized that it had been subconsciously inspired by one of my favorite records from when I was a kid! Do you remember the Herself the Elf franchise that came out around the same time as Strawberry Shortcake — the 1980s? I was a huge fan of both types of dolls. I often made up stories in which the two worlds crossed over.
Since we had no TV, my mom bought us vinyls with recordings from shows with narration and songs. Here is the record that my brothers and I listened to again and again. https://youtu.be/vtt4z_iYJ_E?si=eQtuiGubVPRvUqPv At the thirteen-minute mark, a bullfrog starts to sing. This may have been what prompted me to include a bullfrog in this Christian fantasy novel.
If you like serial novels, maybe you would like to read my Victorian novel. I hope to have another installment in March. (Sorry — my life has been so hectic, I can’t keep up with all the writing I need to get done!)
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