“You call this breakfast?” said Alpin, once we
were sitting in a field full of wild flowers. “An omelette in French bread and
an apple?”
“You can also have my orange juice,” I said,
ready to cede him all of my breakfast. “But the banana and the milk and the
yoghourt are for the baby.”
Before Alpin could claim the baby’s food too, a chanceupon fairy appeared before us. An encountering
fairy or a chanceupon fairy is a fairy who likes to move among mortals, mostly
pretending to be one of them, but upon encountering a human he likes or
dislikes very much, revealing his magic powers to reward or punish. That’s why
they are also called comeuppance fairies, but that term is broader. Some chanceupons
are nice people. But others are a little unbalanced and one has to be careful
not to offend them. An encounter almost always means a change of fortune, for
better or worse.
This particular encountering fairy was a
busker. He carried with him a one man orchestra and played it in town squares
or city centres, entertaining mortals in exchange of a few coins.
He was a tall, burly man with a moustache and
curly dark hair showing under a cowboy hat. There were tatoos on his arms and
he wore an earring. He bowed to us and introduced himself. ‘Harpagophytum Small and his one man
orchestra,’” he said.
“Hey, kids,” he added before we could introduce
ourselves to him too, “howse about my entertaining you while you enjoy your
picnic? I only want some drinking water in exchange. My bottle is empty.”
I was really sorry to have to say, “I’m sorry
to have to say we don’t have any water, but-”
But before I could say more and offer him the
orange juice, Alpin cut me short saying rudely, “Hey, you! Why don’t you give
us a taste of your music first? So we can tell if you are worth listening to?”
Harpagophytum immediately began to do just
that. Strumming on his guitar and banging on his drums with his elbows and knees and kicking at a cymbal with the tip of
a boot, he, well, sort of sang the following song:
“Last night at a dancehall, I met a gal named Birdy.
Biiiiiirdy taught meeeee to daaaaance the chirpy chirpy!”
He got no further.
“Whoa,
ho, ho, ho!” cried Alpin. “You call that singing? No wonder you’re a wandering minstrel. You probably get
chased out of every town you stop at. And as an example of tough lowlife, you
stink too. Why have you got a dragonfly tattooed on your arm instead of a
scorpion? Who are you trying to frighten with that?”
The busker’s brow clouded frightfully. He
didn’t need a scorpion to look formidable at all.
“You deny me a drink of water and you dare to
criticise me? You should know better than others it’s a mistake to offend
encountering fairies. Well, aside from water, I need a monkey for my act. So
I’m taking the baby.”
And before one could blink, Harpagophytum cut
the ribbon that bound me to my sister and disappeared with her. I all but
fainted, but Alpin had the presence of mind to yell after the busker.
“You big idiot! She won’t be of any use to you!
She was born daft! She’ll be a burden
to you!”
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