The Three Faerie Sisters
Their First Adventure
Once upon a time, there lived three little sisters, three pitifully small girls whose poor, bedraggled mother had, after trying so hard and for so long to get them to eat more, almost given up hope that they might ever grow any bigger.
Despite their diminutive size, their mother loved her daughters to bits. She loved them with a passion and never let anyone in the village mock them for being small.
Their names were Greta, Lisa, and Mildred. Though girls are sometimes said to be easier to raise than rascally boys, these three were quite the handful. Not naughty, far from it, but filled with mischief, curiosity, and a knack for finding trouble in the most unexpected places. Their poor mother often wondered if she would ever manage to steer them into behaving like other, more sensible children.
Let me explain.
It began on a dark and dreary Saturday morning, one of those miserable October days that seem to stretch forever. The rain had not yet arrived, but the air felt strangely mild, almost too mild.
“I don’t like it,” their mother muttered, plonking a great spoonful of porridge into each bowl. “I don’t like it one bit.”
“I don’t like porridge,” Lisa whispered mischievously behind her mother’s broad back.
“Nor me,” giggled Greta.
“Eat up!” their mother commanded, pouring creamy milk over the steaming porridge. “It’s good for your bones, and heaven knows they could use the help!”
The girls sang cheekily, “Bones, bones, good for our bones!” and began to stir.
Their mother pretended not to hear. She filled her own bowl, sat down beside them, and spooned in a heap of sugar. “Get it down, it’ll do you good,” she said.
The girls sang again, giggling:
“Get it down, it’ll do you good,
Do you good, good, good, good!”
Their mother hid a smile. “Look at this,” she said, mixing her porridge to perfection. “It’s so fine to eat.”
The girls could hardly contain themselves. They chanted again:
“Now look at this, it’s fine to eat,
So fine and good, it is a treat!”
“You three are in rare form this morning,” said their mother with a reluctant chuckle.
Each girl copied her mother, spooning sugar into her bowl and stirring. As they did, they sang their little porridge song again, louder this time, until every last bite had been eaten.
“That’s more like it,” their mother said approvingly.
“That’s more like it,” the girls sang back, “it’ll do you good, good, good, good, good!”
When the bowls were finally empty, their mother shooed them away. “Off with you now, and come home if it rains.”
“Bye!” they sang, racing out the door into the garden.
A few minutes later, the three sisters were strolling along the quiet country lane beside their cottage, wondering what to do with the day.
“I have an idea,” said Greta, picking up a shiny conker that had fallen from an ancient horse chestnut tree. “Let’s play Conkers Bonkers!”
“Boring,” said Lisa. “We played that yesterday, and anyway, it’s a boy’s game.”
“Whoever said that?” Greta grumbled, tossing the conker away.
Mildred raised her hand. “Let’s play Hide and Seek!”
“Hide and Seek?” cried Lisa and Greta together. “Perfect!”
“Who’s the seeker?” Greta asked.
“I was last time,” said Lisa.
“So was I,” added Mildred with a grin.
“That leaves you,” the two said, pointing at Greta.
“Me and my big mouth,” she sighed. “All right then. But I’m only counting to fifty, one hundred’s just too boring.”
“Fine!” her sisters shouted, running off to hide.
Greta pressed her face against the rough bark of the great chestnut tree and began counting.
“One, two, three, four, five…”
“Psst!”
“Six, seven, eight…”
“PSST!”
“Who’s there?” she whispered, keeping her eyes shut.
No answer. She frowned and resumed counting. “Nine, ten…”
“PSSSSSST!”
Greta turned sharply. “I heard that! If you two are playing tricks, you’ll regret it!”
She looked around, but neither Lisa nor Mildred was anywhere to be seen.
“Where are you?” she called.
A voice answered, though it wasn’t one she knew. “Over here,” it said.
She spun about. “I can’t see you!”
Then, from behind the tree, stepped a very small man dressed entirely in green. His eyes gleamed like moss in sunlight.
“Please don’t be afraid, Greta,” he said politely. “I bring great news.”
Greta gasped. “Who are you? And where are my sisters?”
“I am Yoruk,” said the little man, bowing.
“Yoruk? What sort of name is that? And why are you so small?”
“Your mother was right,” said Yoruk with a sniff. “You are impertinent.”
“How do you know my mother?”
“I don’t,” he replied, smiling faintly. “But I have been listening.”
“Listening? Why? Where?”
“All in good time,” said Yoruk. “You know, you’re not that tall yourself.”
Greta frowned. “How do you know my name?”
“I have known it since the day you were born.”
“How?”
“I’ll answer every question once we find your sisters.”
That, Greta thought, was fair enough. She finished counting to fifty, and off they went.
They followed the lane until Greta suggested the old barn, Lisa’s favourite hiding place. As they climbed over the stone wall, two geese came charging out, flapping and hissing.
“I’m afraid of geese!” Greta whispered.
“I can fix that,” said Yoruk. He waved his hand, and the geese fled in panic.
“How did you do that?”
“No time,” he said briskly. “We must find your sisters.”
Inside, they found only a horse chewing its nosebag. Greta called out, “Lisa? Are you there?”
Silence.
“She likes to hide in the stall,” said Greta. “Or sometimes the old car, or the loft.”
The stall was empty. The car contained nothing but a startled rooster. That left the loft.
“You first,” Greta said, pointing to the creaky ladder.
Yoruk climbed up, and almost at once, a figure leapt out.
“Boo!” cried Lisa, then froze. “Oh! You’re not Greta!”
Yoruk laughed softly. “I am Yoruk, and I bring you great news.”
Lisa blinked. “Where’s Greta?”
“Down here!” came her sister’s voice.
When Lisa climbed down and joined them, they set off together once more. “Two down,” said Yoruk, “one to go.”
Mildred, they decided, must be at the old mill.
They reached it at noon, the autumn sun pale and watery. The waterwheel turned slowly, spilling silver foam into the stream below.
“Mr Brun?” Greta called as she pushed open the door.
From deep within the mill came footsteps, and then the old miller appeared, flour-dusted and smiling. “Well, well! Lisa and Greta! What brings you here?”
They presented Yoruk.
“My, my,” said Mr Brun. “He’s no taller than you! Does he have a name?”
“Only the one,” said Yoruk.
“Unusual,” murmured the miller.
“Perhaps,” Yoruk replied. “Perhaps not.”
“Have you seen Mildred?” Greta asked. “It’s important.”
“Ah, hide and seek again, is it?” chuckled Mr Brun. “Yes, I saw her not long ago, down by the waterwheel.”
The sisters thanked him and hurried off.
Mildred was indeed by the stream, sitting among a patch of daisies and singing softly as she made chains of them.
“Oh, you found me!” she said cheerfully. “Look, daisies all year long, isn’t that odd?”
“Never mind daisies,” said Lisa. “This is Yoruk, and he’s got something to tell us.”
“Then tell us,” Mildred said, eyeing the small man curiously.
“Sit down, all of you,” said Yoruk, “and I shall explain.”
The three sisters sat upon the grass, sunlight glinting on the stream.
“My name is Yoruk,” he began. “I have but the one name, and I am a faerie.”
“You’re joking!” gasped Lisa.
“I am not,” said Yoruk solemnly.
“But where are your wings?” asked Mildred.
“Here,” he said, turning round. From two slits in his green coat, a pair of gossamer wings unfolded, growing larger and larger until they shimmered like morning mist.
The girls stared in awe.
“How did they appear?” whispered Lisa.
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,” Yoruk quoted with a wink, “than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
“What?”
“Oh, never mind,” he said. “Now, the great news. You three are faeries too.”
The sisters sat in stunned silence.
Finally Greta spoke. “If we’re really faeries, where are our wings?”
“On your backs, where they belong,” said Yoruk. “Look.”
They turned and gasped. From beneath their jumpers, delicate wings were unfurling, glinting in the pale October sun.
“How did we do that?” they cried.
“You simply opened your eyes,” said Yoruk gently. “You are faeries born, hidden among humans since your faerie mother passed away. The woman you call Mother is your guardian.”
“She’s not our real mother?” Mildred whispered.
“She was your mother in every way that matters,” Yoruk said softly. “Your faerie mother died long ago, but she loved you deeply.”
The girls fell silent, their hearts aching.
Yoruk continued kindly. “You are now old enough to learn who you are and what you can do.”
“Can we fly?” cried Lisa, her wings fluttering.
“Me too!” said Mildred.
“And me!” said Greta.
Yoruk laughed. “Very well! Today shall be for fun, lessons can wait until tomorrow.”
With cries of “Weee!” the three sisters soared into the air, flitting and twirling through the sunlight while Yoruk joined them, laughing with delight.
At last their wings grew tired, and they drifted back to earth in a tumble of giggles.
“That was wonderful!” they cried.
“There will be much more to learn,” said Yoruk. “Though not all of it will be easy or safe.”
“Danger?” asked Mildred, eyes wide.
“I thought faeries only had fun,” said Lisa.
“And how are we supposed to get our clothes on and off now?” Greta asked, tugging at her jumper.
Yoruk smiled. “Patience. Greta, your question first. To hide your wings, you simply un-think them. Close your eyes and wish them away.”
Mildred tried it, and with a small pop, her wings vanished.
“Wow!” cried Lisa, who immediately followed suit.
“Your turn,” said Yoruk to Greta.
“I’m not sure I can,” she said nervously.
“Go on,” urged her sisters.
She shut her eyes tightly. “Here goes…”
There was a loud pop, and Greta disappeared entirely.
“Greta!” screamed Lisa and Mildred. “What have you done with her, Yoruk?”
Yoruk, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, called, “Greta! Are you there?”
A small, disembodied voice answered, “Do I have to be?”
“Yes,” said Yoruk firmly. “You must never toy with your powers. Do I make myself clear?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Now explain to your sisters what you did.”
“I wished myself invisible,” she admitted.
“That’s all right,” said Yoruk kindly. “But remember, always respect your powers.”
“Can I come back?”
“Of course. Just wish yourself visible again.”
There was another pop, and Greta reappeared, blushing furiously while her sisters laughed.
Later, as they walked home along the quiet lane, Yoruk said he must leave.
“Aren’t we coming with you, to Faerieland?” they asked eagerly.
“There is no such place,” said Yoruk. “Faeries and humans live side by side, as they always have.”
“But when will we see you again?” Greta asked anxiously.
“Tomorrow,” he said, smiling. “Tomorrow, and every day.”
And with that, he vanished.
“He’s gone!” said Lisa.
“Has he really?” murmured Mildred.
Greta smiled knowingly. Her wings flickered once more, bright in the afternoon light. “Oh, he’ll be back,” she said. “I’d bet my bottom dollar on it.”
THE END
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 