Hello Thee,

Ye might feel a little fear at times.

Sometimes the fear is good, because ye should know when in danger.

At times of doubt though, tis quite different. The reason ye feel this fear is because ye are so near to something great. Especially the magic, your greatest fear will appear when you are closest to real perfection.

Never listen to the goblin whispering little failures in yer ear. For he is never brave enough to even think of a brave act. He cowers in the mud, waiting to gobble yer fear and tears. Yes, he gets many victories cowering below, for not everyone can be brave. But his victories are week and he always hungers for more.

So when ye are afraid, ignore the goblin. Great things will then befall you; for one small victory of bravery is more fulfilling and more powerful then any goblins filthy feat.

Poppins Eve!

Seasons Tidings!

How are all ye young hobbits and fogtobbits? Old fribbit stools and morganstimers! I know ye are getting ready for yer favorite time of earth…Poppins Eve! Anyone who is a proper wibclibbit knows that Poppins Eve is the day of days to celebrate!

Nay? Ye don’t know the tale of Poppins Eve!? Well cut my elf ears and call me a gnome! I must tell you of it then…

One starry night, back when humans and faery’s were in cooperation of the large bortip(a round orb made of pixie dust which would light up at nightfall), a change began. The humans were becoming greedy about the bortip and trying to study it. So the faerys said no to their blasphemy, and the war began. To this day, faerys can not trust humans, and humans refuse to the existing of faerys and all magic creatures for that matter.

The battle was not of a precious glitter, but more a gory rampash of delinquecy. The humans lost many and the faerys did also. So many were destroyed, that the battle seemed it would never end until both sides were dead. Many creatures became extinct on that porg day. Many humans lost their sons and daughters, fathers, mothers, uncles, and mothers in law(half removed). The next morning, the mourning was immense throughout both sides.

A pact was made between the humans and the creatures. The humans would get the land to live on, and the faerys would get all of the magic. Both sides had a great loss. The faerys would now be damned to hide for all eternity and only kept alive through stories and faerytales. The humans would have no power against the forces, and sadly, never be one with nature as the faerys still are to the very moment.

So that is the story of Poppins Eve. The next day the king, King Poppin of Piccadilly Pasture, declared it to be Poppins Eve; the greatest holiday ever. Because the war was over. Although the faerys had lost their world, they still had their magic and that was feat enough.

Hence, faeries now hide among the brush when you have stopped aside the road for a quick leaking, or tickle your nose on a brisk day when you think you might sneeze, or perhaps you have seen one amongst a stream gliding atop a leaf. Then again, maybe you did not because humans are so stubborn in belief.

Amidst it all, Happy Poppins Eve! May your pixies be many and your parsley be plentiful! Lingasmorg to all, and to all a good Gerheppin!

thought 1

Foolish human. I whisper delicate lullabies into yer ear while ye sleep, and ye love me for it. But, only amongst the night hour. For when the sun is agleam enough to see yer glowing face, ye only dwell on that and forget all of me. Ye tread past me and  can not even see. For the children can, they always believe. A child is not determined by her age, nay, but by her heart.

Real Life Faery/Human Communication

Hello! Attention! This next conversation is between a real life HUMAN and a real life FAERY. It is a small bit hostile-on the humans side-so be careful when reading. Did I not say ye humans were unkind beasts? Here is proof.

Faery: hey torniquet!

Human: hey

Faery: how is tortoise?

Human: good how aare you

Faery: i am as well as any peasant could be among the sprightly meadows.

are you still a member of troop 88?

Human: i was never a member of troop 88

Faery: oh! my discrepency

golly. i am so abashed now

so how is francis?

Human: i dont think your talking to the right person

Faery: hit and miss!

folks weve got a tough audience

i am sure i am chatting with the correct homosapien

Human: okay well i dont know what your talking about

Faery: why so somber ?

turn that grimace clockwise to a golden peek

Human: okay well this is weird so bye

Faery: giving up is the number one cause of…giving up

Human: just stop talking pleaase

Faery: i shall become to your request. May I not ask that if i bring some delicate tigerlillies would you perhaps reconsider?

END INTERACTION.

Utter unkindness…the young faery was just trying to make friendly human/faery interaction, and was clearly shot down. And ye wonder why we don’t show ourselves!

Proposterous,

Fand*

Beginning*

*Greetings,

How to start such an introduction? I suppose I should let the gnome out of the tree: I am a faery. I go by Fand, the name presented to me when I was made. My sister is Liban, who I care for with all my pixies. My family is quite big, I choose not to declare them all on this particular moon, but ye shall hear of them nearly, since I shall often speak of my daylight hours and such-in which they often take part.

I am assuming first off, on this brisk moon, that most who set eye upon my script(er writing?) shall be human. Then it may be quite tricky for me to relate to ye, in that we(you and I) are exceedingly more different then a toadstool to a toad. Nay not that even, more like a piccadilly goblin to a water leaper.

I shall give my greatest effort though, for the sake that perhaps, ye may open your eyes and see the emerald blades of grass amongst yer feet and love them as your own lilly garden. Or stop to listen for the beautiful secret castles under ye feet of the Laminak faeries, that ye slowly crush by stomping yer monsters into the underbrush.

ye? or you? I shall have to get use to ‘you/your’.

I leave ye with:

Today I heard the most peculiar melody gliding from the forest branches, because although the leaves have gone to sleep, the branches still sing their song. It is often hard to remember this in the frost, even for a faery, so I listened and once again remembered the beauty of the forests chilly whistle; and it warmed my spirit.

Good Fortune,

Fand*