A Flute’s Song
Summary: A faerie plays her flute in the woods, and after a close encounter with a hawk, she gets... “saved”. Word Count: 2261
Some time ago...
Light dappled through the leaves of old maple trees, grand and tall, creating patterns on the babbling brook below. Aurelia sat on one of the silver stones jutting out of the stream, peacefully playing her flute to accompany the running of the water. Water droplets clung to her wings, but with the gold of a summer sun shining down on her, she knew her wings would be dry soon enough.
The small meadow reminded her of Piliphala. While she would return to her homeland when the sun went down, that was not where she wanted to be at the moment. Aurelia loved to travel to the human world to get inspiration for her own creations, and to just to see what humanity was up to. She was relatively alone in the quiet clearing, apart from the forest animals, though there was one human near her. He was a young man who appeared to be writing something—perhaps he was a writer of the sort. Either way, he didn’t notice her, too engrossed in his writing most likely. Aurelia was glad about that; while she loved to watch humans, she did not like being noticed; her existence was supposed to be a secret after all. Besides, it’s not like she was hard to notice either; her dress was pastel pink with a rainbow of pastel-coloured accents, much like her hair. She definitely stood out amongst the regular calm colours of the forest.
A small chirp sounded from beside her. She stopped playing for a moment to glance at the tiny robin who was approaching her curiously. Its tiny legs hopped across the water and the bird settled itself on one of the few stones near her. Aurelia smiled at the baby bird and waved, then went back to her playing. Her song sounded like a lullaby, a sweet tune in a warm key, which soon lulled the robin to sleep. And Aurelia found this adorable. Her music has put countless fae birds to sleep before, but even her Craeo birds, which had a beautiful shine thanks to being infused with Craeo magic, could not come close to the cuteness of this so-called “ordinary” robin that sat before her.
One by one, more forest animals heard her song and, due to their curiosity, came to watch her. When Aurelia realized that she now had an audience, she stood up on the rock where she had previously been sitting. The brooke surged at this moment, waking up the baby robin and scaring it back to the shore where the other animals were. “So it looks like I have an audience,” she pondered out loud even though they couldn’t understand her. “Looks like I need to up the tempo, right?”
All the animals, simultaneously, blinked at her.
Aurelia wanted to face-palm herself. “Oh, come on everyone. I just want one nod. Just one! Like this.” She nodded her head up and down to demonstrate.
Nothing happened. Suddenly, Aurelia missed her Craeo birds; at least she could talk with them and they would listen.
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a sigh. “You all are helpless,” she pouted, but her playful smile returned a moment later. “But, since you’re sitting there oh-so nicely, I shall reward you with a tune nonetheless.” The squirrels, chipmunks, birds, and mice just stared at her as if to say just play already.
Well, Aurelia picked up her flute and delivered.
Her fingers flew across the holes on the instrument, skillfully playing a fast-paced dance melody. She had played this one countless times at countless celebrations throughout the years, and her song was typically accompanied by a crowd of faeries dancing in pairs. But, since she was by herself, she performed half of the dance (well, it would be more accurate to say she performed a quarter, considering her hands were occupied at the moment) herself. She twirled around the flat part of the stone, sunlight seemingly dancing with her and being reflected by her wings.
She was nearing the peak of the chorus when she started to notice the dark shadow descending down—a hawk. Now, given the fact that she was a Minesto, this hawk couldn’t do anything to her even if it wanted to. However, if her sister found out about the encounter (Aurelia was never able to lie to Aella you see), she would tear her a new one. So, as the other animals began to flee due to the hawk’s presence, a rose-coloured aura began to appear around her fingertips as she continued to play. Her flute was no ordinary flute after all. Aurelia saw the hawk’s talons reach for her, and she sighed. This hawk wanted to do things the hard way, fine. She stopped playing to aim the head of her flute at the beast, preparing to shout the words—
“WATCH OUT!”
The faerie looked up in surprise as something—no, someone—big crashed into her. The hawk flew away quickly, not wanting to deal with whatever was happening at the moment, as Aurelia felt herself become soaked with spring water. As she jetted upstream, she saw that she had been enclosed in something in order to stop her movement. When she was still again, the light flickering in between the gaps told her that these were human hands—ah. She had been seen.
She felt movement beneath her as the human stood up, opening his hands. He looked a little out of breath, but his eyes were filled with worry as he looked at her. “Sorry about that—I didn’t want the hawk to take you. I didn’t mean to get you wet like that—I was running so fast that I tripped on one of the stones in the stream, which made me fall and I—.” He suddenly stopped rambling. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
Even if she was, her body would have healed it by now. She shook her head. “I’m quite alright,” she said cheerfully, trying to squeeze any water out of her skirt that she could. “Thank you for helping me.” Although she didn’t need saving (if his clumsy trip truly counted as “saving” her…), giving him her thanks was the right thing to do.
He looked sheepish, a few water droplets flying away from his brown hair as he turned his head to the side. “It’s, um, it’s all good—sorry I tripped earlier, so it’s my fault you went flying down the brook like that,” he repeated rather awkwardly, then turned his head back when he seemed to notice something. “Oh—did you lose your flute?”
Aurelia could never really lose her flute, but she indeed did not have it on her at the moment. “It appears so,” she began to say before spotting a silver gleam near the shoreline. She flew out of open palms and down toward the stream, picking up the instrument. She wouldn’t be able to play it now that it was all wet, but a visit to her sister would fix that. “Found it!” she called up back to him.
The human kneeled down, his eyes filled with wonder. “I heard your playing earlier,” he told her, “well, the end of it anyway. You’re very talented, Ms. Faerie.”
The Craeo Minesto rolled her eyes. “Please. Just call me Aurelia,” she told him warmly.
“Aurelia…” he tried the name on his tongue. “My name’s Vinson,” he returned.
The faerie was about to have a heart attack when she heard the first syllable of his name, then calmed down instantly upon hearing the rest of it. His demeanour was already reminding her of the man she loved while he was alive, and she really, really didn’t want to break today.
“Nice name,” she offered, albeit a bit shaky. Aurelia then noticed that the man had no papers on him, unlike before. “How is your writing coming along?”
“My writing…? Oh, it’s—” he stopped and began to panic. “Ack—I must’ve dropped my papers, please oh please Litezia have mercy on me, don’t let them be drenched…” He began searching in the brook for his writing, stress radiating from his entire being. Aurelia, however, was mildly amused. There was no way that she was revealing that she herself was Litezia, the old god of Creation, to him. That was simply out of the question. She would still help him though.
And, it turns out she didn’t need to put in much effort to do that either, for she spotted his papers a few steps away on the grass. She flew up to his face, making sure she was eye-level with him. “Over there,” she pointed. She watched his face go from panicked to relieved when he saw them. He picked them up and hugged them to his chest like those pages were his child.
“Thank you,” he told her gratefully, flattening out the creases in the pages that must have formed when they were dropped. He sat down on the edge of the river bed while doing so. “I—um, I have one more thing to thank you for actually, well it’s more your flute, but you were the one playing it so—ah, forgive me, I talk a lot when I’m nervous,” he told her in a clearly jittery voice. Aurelia was patient and just waited for him to finish, and he soon got to his point. “Anyway… I think you cured my writer’s block.”
The faerie had no idea what that was, but she assumed it was some kind of funk that he’d gotten himself stuck into that hindered his ability to write. She took the opportunity to look through his words as he was sorting through the pages, sitting on his shoulder to get a better view. He didn’t seem to mind her presence there.
“I came here today as a last chance for some inspiration, and your song and dance really inspired me. It’s the first time I’ve felt this way in a while,” he confessed. Aurelia didn’t know why he was sharing his life story with her, but she found it kind of cute how flustered he was. She caught glimpses of his story while he turned through the pages, and while she didn’t enjoy reading as much as her friends, she could tell that he had talent. “And—oh shoot. Is it okay that I wrote about you?” he added, sounding genuinely concerned as he lowered the pages. He looked down at her and continued. “I don’t know much about faeries, and there’s probably a reason why, isn’t there.”
“If you share it as a work of fiction, under your own ‘imagination’,” she used air quotes, “then I can consent to it.” His face lit up at her words, and a warm wind blew through the area as she saw his smile for the first time. It lit up the forest more than any sun could. And it reminded Aurelia so much of his smile, the one that lived forever in her heart.
He didn’t seem to notice her inner turmoil, instead again started thanking her profusely. “I know you said it as a joke earlier, but it actually was the flute that helped you,” Aurelia told him to get him to stop, holding up her instrument. “It’s… special. Its purpose is to act as a catalyst for all creation.” She once again flew in front of his face so he could get a better look.
Vinson looked a tad confused, narrowing his eyes to focus on the tiny (to him) flute. “So… it’s an inspiration machine?”
She laughed, a true genuine laugh. “Yes, though that’s the first time I’ve heard it called that.” This human, Vinson, was nice to be around. The sun was warm, and she felt warm… but a good kind of warm. The best kind of warm.
But just as everything seemed to be perfectly, that same old guilt began to plague her mind again. Guilt about seeing him in someone else, about reigniting that emotional bond with someone other than him.
And suddenly, she wasn’t laughing anymore.
Vinson noticed her expression change instantly. “Is everything—”
“I need to go home,” she said suddenly, her heart pounding underneath her chest. “I need to go home.” She looked at him apologetically. Aurelia hated this. She couldn’t feel that warmth from earlier anymore. All she felt was cold. An empty cold.
“...ah, I see. Well I should get back to my desk then, I need to work on getting this published.” He let out a small chuckle as he stood up. “Safe travels!” He gave her a little wave, his eyes following her as she flew above his head.
Aurelia nodded curtly, politely returning his gesture. “You as well.” She started to fly off, but he called her back.
“Wait! Will I—will I see you again?”
She looked down at him, his eyes pleading, begging for her to say yes. And even though the odds were against it—he was well above the age to possess any kind of magical ability—she wanted to tell him the answer he wanted to hear. But even if she did see him again, her heart wouldn’t let her. It would tell her to steer clear, don’t see him again, because her heart was reserved for someone who she could never meet again.
“Hopefully,” was her response, and she flew away to Piliphala. It seemed that she was cutting her visit short today.
No, she didn’t cry, not once. Because today, she helped someone rekindle their passion, their dream. That meant the world to her. She wouldn’t let her grief ruin that.
She wouldn’t. _______________________________________________________ Read more about The Fae Prophecy here!