An Hour In Faerie

“I looked up at the sky, Prince Valiant and I watched as a falling star crossed overhead and disappeared into the distance. We fell asleep nestled in the trees at the edge of the enchanted forest and woke with dawn’s first light.”

I looked at my audience. The girls were sitting still, listening closely. The boys were fidgeting. I watched as one removed a wad of gum from his mouth and stuck it to the underside of a nearby shelf. I moved my gaze before his eyes turned to the back of the room and found mine.

“What do you think happened next?” I asked.

“Prince Valiant says a bunch of stupid stuff, gets down on one knee and asks her to be his princess or something.” One boy responded looking at the carpeted floor.

“Yeah, that stupid girl stuff.” Another one added.

I smiled at them. “You’re forgetting, Prince Valiant is not a man.”

With that one sentence the fidgeting stopped and the room fell silent.

“I told you yesterday, Prince Valiant is a unicorn.”

“He’s not a prince?” One of the girls asked.

“He is a prince. He is also a unicorn. Faerie is magic. Animals can talk, fight in wars, cast spells, and they can be princes.”

I looked at the children as their expressions changed. They were thinking about what I told them, picturing it, then accepting that in this magical dimension some place far away things could happen in exactly that way. The faces changed again. It was the expression that I had been waiting for. They had questions about Faerie. It was a sign. They were drawn in completely. 

I had my audience.

“How can a unicorn fight if he can’t hold a sword?” One boy asked.

“He can speak therefore he has magic.” I raised a fisted hand to my forehead and stretched my arm, indicating the horn, “And a unicorn always has his weapon with him.”

“How will you become a princess if you cannot marry Prince Valiant?”

“I won’t.”

“How will you survive?”

“A lady does not have to become a princess to live in Faerie.”

“If she doesn’t marry a prince she won’t have a happily ever after.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Because all of the other stories say...”

“All of the other stories.” I responded. “Not every story is the same. I think that if you let me finish my adventure you will be pleased with the outcome.”

“Do you become a princess later?”

I sit and contemplate the little girl’s question before answering. “No.” My eyes slowly pan the group, all are interested. “I do not become a princess. I am made a queen.”

“A queen. How?”

“The usual way.”

The little girl in front who is obsessed with princesses answers, “She married a king, how else do you think she became a queen stupid? Everyone knows that marrying a king is way better than marrying a prince.”

“I fought beside the brownie tribes during The Ogre Raids and after the ogres were defeated they asked me to be their queen.”

I decided not to admonish the little princess sitting in front of me and handled the issue indirectly, “Do you know the word stupid does not exist in Faerie? Because every being has its own set of strengths and weaknesses. We do not believe in pointing out each other’s differences in demeaning ways. It is not considered polite. Royalty should always be polite. Who else has a question?”

The little princess hangs her head for a few seconds but immediately raises her hand to ask another question. I know that my words have gotten their point across without causing any permanent damage.

A hand popped up from the back of the room. I acknowledged it.

“Have you ever ridden Prince Valiant?”

I found the face attached to the raised hand. It was an older boy standing with a group of his peers, his face was red with embarrassment. I knew where the boy was trying to go with this and quickly headed him off at the pass.

“Of course not. Princes do not carry passengers.”

He tried again.

I interjected.

“Princes do not carry passengers.” I returned my attention to the children at the front of the room. “Who knows what an ogre is?”

When the children collected their things and headed out of the library’s great room, twenty minutes later, The Ogre Raids had begun. Their conversations consisted of sharing what they knew about ogres and comparing notes in anticipation of our next visit.

As I rose from my chair and picked up my bag I noticed that the room had not emptied out entirely. A young man stood by the entry. He was tall, well-groomed yet comfortably dressed and was wearing a friendly expression. Ogres wear friendly expressions too. In the beginning.

I told myself that he is probably just a weekend dad that didn’t get the message from his ex that Timmy has a fever and not to pick him up for a visit today. I crossed the room at an efficient speed to get whatever it was over with quickly. I had things to do.

“I did not know that a unicorn could become a prince.” Were the young man’s first words.

“In Faerie anything is possible.” I responded.

“You’re very good with children. How long have you been teaching?”

“I’m not a teacher.” I said as I continued my journey.

He fell into step next to me. “How long have you worked at the library?”

“I don’t.”

The stranger looked at the sign posted at the room’s entry. “How long have you been an actress?”

“I’m not.”

He looked at me more closely. I could tell that he was studying everything. The shiny gloves peeking out of my bag, my outfit, the elaborate styling of my hair, the vibrancy of my make-up. “You’re not a teacher, a librarian, or an actress. Who are you then? Why are you telling stories to children?”

“My name is Gertrude, Gertrude Scott. Who wants to know?”

“Everyone.” He said with a smile. The young man pulled a card out of his jacket pocket as I stopped to put on my coat. “Ty. My name is Ty Betterman, I’m a reporter for The Post. I was sent here by my editor to write a story.”

“About?”

“About ‘An Hour In Faerie,’” He responded, pointing to the sign. “About you.”

“ ‘An Hour In Faerie’ is a story hour set in the land of Faerie.” I said picking up my bag. “End of story. Congratulations. You’re done.” I said as I proceeded to walk away.