190. Fishfin Unfound and a Perfect Match Found

190. Fishfin Unfound and a Perfect Match Found

On every St. John's Eve, my parents give a party. It begins at sunset, with The Merry Thespians of Athens and Their Delicate Ladyfriends performing a fabulous play for my parents and their guests in the palace gardens. It is amazing what good perfomers these players, once so ridiculously funny, have gotten to be with the passing of time. They prove one does well to encourage artists to persist in their purposes. Nick Bottom is currently the fairy world’s best leading actor. And he and his troupe truly outdo themselves year after year and everyone loves them.

Next, Maestro Mendelssohn’s ghost raises his baton and the party formally begins as his orchestra bursts into mesmerizing music which will not die until dawn. People begin to mingle, wandering all over the main gardens. Those who prefer to dance do so on a round, polished silver dancing floor presided by the great Terpsichore and her genial sisters themselves. Refreshments are served at the tables that spot the lawns and… Alpin tries to eat them all up. Well, this last is happening this year. He has never been invited to one of these parties before. I wonder if he ever will be again.

As soon as we arrived, my sisters Heather and Thistle and I went in search of Finisterre Fishfin to give him the pebblebight we wished to gift him with in gratitude for having participated in the preparation of Alpin’s first lunch out in the world after his time as an apple. But there was no finding Fishfin. Nobody could give us reason of him, and tell us why he was not present or where he might be found.

“Why are you so dead set on locating one of the cooks?” asked our Uncle Richearth crossly. “Let them go about their business in peace. Sit down with us and enjoy the hors d’oeuvres before the monster ends them.”

“What monster?” asked Alpin, popping up from behind me.

Uncle Richearth shut his grass green eyes tightly, flicked his magnificent brown mane back and clenched his fists. He always does that when he is upset. He counted to ten out loud and then opened his eyes again, smiling.

But it was now Uncle Wildgale who was cross. He can change colour when he does, blowing red hot and cold blue and getting fearsomely purple when he is mightily worked up.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Alpin, huffing and puffing in his face so that Alpin’s hair flew all backwards and almost off his head. “I’ll bet it was Gen who invited you. This has to be Gen’s doing. Who else would dare to visit someone like you on us?”

Heather thought it was time to answer the first of the questions asked of us, the one by Uncle Richearth.

“We’re trying to find Finfish because we want to give him something,” said Heather.

“Is it something worth having?” asked Alpin.

“Alpin, have you tried swiss cheese fondue?” asked Thistle.

“Don’t try to distract me. I’m having a showdown with your blustering uncle here.”

“It’s only a pebble we found,” said Heather weakly.

“The besotted drunkard loses a pebble and you leave no stone unturned trying to return it to him? I always said you and your family are definitely all daft,” spurted Alpin.

“Why can’t I just blow him away?” asked Uncle Wildgale of Uncle Richearth, taking umbrage at this slur on our family.

Uncle Richearth was holding Uncle Wildgale back by the arm, and finally forced him to sit down and my sisters succeeded in drawing Alpin off to another table where a gigantic cheese fondue was being prepared especially for him.

“Do tell us about the pebble,” said Uncle Richearth to me. Of all our uncles, he is the one who always asks the most questions. There is never anything going on that he doesn’t want to know about. Or anything that he doesn’t turn to his profit.  

“What pebble?” huffed Uncle Wildgale. “Against a rock! I’ll blast him to the Rock of Gibraltar. That’s where I’ll blow him. Maybe he’ll get smashed flat when he smacks it and all this nightmare will be over.”

“Will you calm down, Wildy?” growled Uncle Richearth pettishly. “I want to hear about the pebble. There has to be something to it.”

I told our uncles about the pebblebsright we had found, and what they where good for and where and when we had found them.

“Never heard of such a stone,” said Uncle Richearth. “One never goes to bed wihout having learnt something new, does one? At least me tonight. Where did you learn about these pebbles?”

“Uncle Evenfall told us all about them.”

“Ah, Evenfall!”

Both our uncles looked at each other as if that explained everything and began to laugh at their brother.

 “Cherchez le whacko! Fou, fou, fou!”

“I’ll bet he put them there himself,” said Uncle Wildgale, “for the kids to find and wonder at, you know. That’s just like cool Uncle Evenfall.”

Uncle Richearth nodded. 

“Even was fun when we were little, I must admit. You know, our brother could be useful if he wanted to be. He is ingenious. It wouldn’t surpise me to hear he manufactures these pebbles himself.”

“Clever, clever!” nodded Uncle Wildgale.

“What did you say was the name of these stones, Arley?” asked Uncle Richearth “I'm going to ask Even about them. I’m thinking they could come in handy harvestime and so on and so forth.”

Uncle Wildgale laughed in his face.

“Hah!” he burst out. “You don’t stand a chance, Rich. He won’t give you any. I wouldn’t bother to ask. Even’s only nice to nice kids at heart. He despises and belittles anyone that acts like an adult.”

“Well…all the same, that’s a vey fine gift you’re giving Finfish, Arley. No chance I could buy the stone from you is there? No, I suppose not. I’ll speak to Even.”

“Hey, you of the table! Hail and well met, uncles and cousin!”

Arabella and Belinda, speaking in unison, suddenly appeared at our table flanked by their intended or actual husbands, or whoever the two young men in attendance to them were.

“We have her, Arley!”

Immediately on guard, I said, “Have who?”

“Alpin’s true love.”

 Well, at least it wasn’t mine they were pretending to have found. I breathed with relief for a second, and then was frightened stiff again.

“No way!” I protested.

“Now, what is this about?” asked Uncle Rich eagerly. “Let the girls have their say, Arley. Don’t be rude.”

“Her name is Miss Clepeta Aprietos Bivalva. And she’s perfect for him.”

“How can she be, you perverse meddlers?” bellowed  Uncle Wildgale indignantly. “How can you do this to anyone? Poor girl!”

“Yes, how can you?” I echoed, even more indignantly.

Uncle Richearth clapped his hands.

“Well, this promises. And I thought this would be another dull evening. Is she in the whereabouts?” asked Uncle Rich glancing all around the garden with enthusiasm.  

“No, she’s not here. Ah, but we would never put Alpin in the hands of someone who couldn’t handle him,” said the girls. “We’re professionals, dear relatives. Never doubt it. We’ve told Clepeta all about Alpin and she’s dying to eat him. That is, meet him.”

The girls glanced at each other and began speaking very quickly and among themselves, sometimes together in unison and then one or the other but so fast one couldn’t tell which was speaking. “Eat, eat, eat. So much eat is driving us bonkers. I hate this verb! Yes, sister, we both do! This job is going to drive our brains anorexic. Except ´tis done, thanks be to Og!” They rolled their eyes and looked up to the starry sky above. “Thank you, Angus!” they sighed.

“What exactly did you tell this girl?” asked Uncle Richearth, sounding fascinated. I, however, was afraid to know.

“We told her Alpin is a personable young man from an enchanting family. How he has an undeniably charming brother and a captivating Mum. Irresistible, both. And how he has two smart and pretty sisters Clepeta would be lucky to have her kids take after. We said Alpin’s dad is very well connected,” said Belle.

“Especially his head to his body,” scoffed Uncle Wildgale.

“Well, of course, we didn’t say Mr. Dullahan’s head isn’t connected to his body. When we said connections, we meant contacts, like the big shot Ernest works for. We didn’t want to say too much about Alpin's dad’s job. People always keep something back for a second meeting,” said Bella.

“It’s only natural,” Belle reassured us. “Makes no sense to scare someone off before they know how convenient a union with you can be.”

“You sure know how to sell your product, honeylambs,” said Uncle Richearth. “When will the lovebirds meet?”

“That is not going to happen,” I said, “because this isn’t happening. You aren’t breathing a word about this Cleopatra person to Alpin,” I said, trying to sound as dour and stern as I could, something like my mother when she gets stubborn.

“But we already have! Over there at the cheese table. What are you, Arley? Jealous? You don’t have to be. We told you we could find someone for you as well!”