213. The Party of the Daughters of the Valkyrie and the Wind

213. The Party of the Daughters of the Valkyrie and the Wind 

And the day of my little cousins’ name party arrived. Although Mum wanted to hold the party in her own palace,  Grandmother Dvina insisted on its being held in the home of Grandfather AEternus. She said that this way no one would dare break bounds too drastically, and should someone give the least sign of seeking revenge or anyone push a grudge, Grandpa and his employees would see to it that order be promptly reestablished. 

“Because your husband, my dear daughter, as you well know, doesn’t give an owl’s hoot what happens around him, his excuse being that he is a pacifist and that all is for the best. What phlegm does that man not have! We´ll call it equanimity, but when he has no choice but to intervene, Oberon sure mucks everything up far worse than if he hadn’t. You know that better than anyone, dear. His solutions are more preposterous than any problem. Yes, yes, I know he is never  violent, but he is implausible at best. He thinks he has to be more clever than anyone and all he is is more unsound in the head. And this way I won’t have to drag your papa out of his house, Titania. I will just have to watch him a little to ensure he won’t sneak away from the party and go play chess in his library with Amon. But that is what I always have to do when we have parties, no matter where. I can’t take an eye off him when he is at a party.” 

Amon the Mummy is just that, an Egyptian mummy Thymian, my Egyptologist brother, resurrected and who turned out to be a genius at chess, that great sport of sedentary sportsmen. Amon can and does beat any opponent at it, save Grandpa on occasions, though it is rumored he only lets his host win now and again because he wants to keep living like  a king in Grandpa’s library, where he found a haven shortly after coming back to life.

Well, getting back to the party, it was being held in Grandfather AEternus Virbonus’ home and the first thing Alpin and I saw and heard when we reached its gate and right behind  the guards that controlled entry, was an infuriated gnome yelling like possessed and casting stones left and right.

“Imbeciles! I’m telling you I have poisoned the garden! I’ve sprayed pesticides on every leaf and blade of grass so no one will step into it! March along the stone path, go left or go right at the fork, you’ll end up equally behind the house and reach the space reserved for the party. ¡Alas for whoever dares tread on my bermuda grass!”

This was the garden gnome who was going to share a name with my little cousin Botolpha, should she insist on being called  that. And he was just like Uncle Wildgale had warned us he was. I had never had a tiff with him before because when I visit Grandpa I always come  hastily overflying the garden. My visits are short and to the purpose, because it is best not to dally too long in that house and this is why I had never seen Botolph acting up before.

“You see that?” Uncle Wildgale asked me, flying to the door to receive us with Uncle Gentlerain. “The Master Gardener knows there  is going to be a party for children here today and so he has decided to poison all there is out here. He doesn’t care if this ends in tragedy. Which is why the party is up above in some hefty clouds Gentlerain and Evenfall have created for this purpose. Thus we will keep our feet off our father’s lawn and the gardener contented.”

“Or so I hope,” said Uncle Gen, “because it is useless to complain to Papa about the unhinged gardener. Papa gives all his employees carte blanche in their dealings with anyone but himself and always takes their side in any quarrel.”

“Botolph hates even Gen,” Uncle Wild assured us. “And that isn’t easy to do.”

“But ´tis Richie he hates the most ,” smiled Uncle Gen.

“Oh, yes, Richearth he can’t even stand the sight or the sound of. Every time Richie strolled through this garden singing, Botolph had to mow the grass and prune the bushes. Which way is Richie entering this house? If he tries to come in through this here front gate he is sure to be stoned.”

“I told him to come flying in one of his dragon-drawn chariots and descend on the clouds. Some guards up above will park the chariot in a space we´ve reserved out  there.”

“None of those dragons had better drop manure when flying over the garden,” said Uncle Wild. “I don’t think Botolph will care for that sort of fertilizer.”

“Of course they won’t. Man, they are trained!”

“But maybe if they hear Botolph howling… that upsets anyone.”

 “How did that song we used to sing to infuriate the gnome go?”

And Uncle Evenfall, who had just appeared overflying the garden’s stone path in his ambulant armchair began to sing.

“Hail, great Botolphus, lord of the garden! Filthy rich in tulips, azaleas and jasmine. Tighter wad than any, grant us a flower! Only one we ask of you, you have that power. We’ll pull off the petals, and see if you love us. Well, what do you know? The gardener hates us! Hail, lofty Botolphus! Terror of pedestrians and hammer of strollers, perdition of walkers, we want to play football with our feet on our lawn. We’ll do this at midnight! Don’t get up till dawn. Hail, sublime Botolphus, Dad says that of this garden, you are the master. But don’t bother to chase us. We can run faster. Don’t pelt us with stones, in zigzag we’ll flee, and don’t call us foul names, that’s not what we be. Dad says we must call you Mr. Botolphus, but if you aggrieve us, our ire you will perk. You know what Botolphus?  We’ll call you a jerk!”

“DISSEMINATE!” hollered Botolph, this time armed with a megahorn he had torn from the guards. “SHUT UP AND MOVE AWAY FROM THAT GATE, MALEFACTORS!”

Up in the clouds, very comfortable ones indeed, for they were misty up to our knees but solid beneath our feet, we found the Seven Fairies, our uncles’ and Mum’s first cousins,  surrounding Mathilde and Val’s little girls. The fairies had seated the babies in tall little thrones set on a platform of honour. Since it was St. Lucy’s day, the girls had been crowned with tiaras of shining suns. And they were wearing for the first time the dresses Mrs. Dulahan han created for them. The girls were smiling very happily and it was clear they were going to enjoy all the attention they would get. We sat close by, since the clouds turned parts of themselves into seats the moment they noticed we needed these. Other parts of the clouds turned into little star-shaped tables that floated to the sides of our chairs  so we could easily help ourselves to the delicacies served on them. There were also much larger cloud tables, mostly occupied by members of the old guard. There were lots of people present. All my brothers and sisters  and most of my cousins were there. Dad´s brothers had shown up too, with their wives and their kids. The place was also packed with German elfs and dwarfs and valkyries, because although there was no trace of Mathilde, all her family and friends had arrived en masse.

People were asking what names the little girls would choose for themselves and Botolpha and Richenda were being repeated over and over as the most likely. We became aware that Uncle Richearth was already present when we heard his unmistakeable voice cry out, “I want to be that kid’s godfather! Which one is she?”

“There he goes!” growled Uncle Wild. “If the kid says her name is to be Richenda, we’re bound to have a brawl here.”

“You mustn't pay the least attention to the rumors, Wildgale,” Alpin advised my uncle. “You found that girl. Not him. Or did you not?”

“Of course I did!” cried my uncle. “But he always takes what he pleases!”

“You know how this works, Uncle Wild,” I said. “Anyone who wants to be godfather can be godfather. One only has to bring a fine gift for the neophyte, and that your brother will surely have already brought for both girls. But Mum and your cousins will compete, if I know them. Look how they are crowding round the babies and blocking everyone else’s way and trying to be the best of godmothers.”

“Is there too much sunlight?” asked Uncle Evenfall. “Shall I ask the sun to shine a little less brightly?”

“Everything’s okay,” I said. “Look! The Seven Fairies are going to proclaim their gifts!”

Fronda and Alondra, Jocosa and Laetitia, Nebula and Calendula and Lucerna Preciosa and her pet moth Elysio, gave the babies exactly what everyone expected they would. Fronda made their locks forever thick and strong and shiny, though I think she left them looking a little too much like green gold. Alondra bequeathed on them the gift of beautiful voices, sweet and alluring. Jocosa  gave them a sense of humour and the wisdom to laugh at themselves when necessary. Laetitia gave them the capacity to find joy in small things, aside from in whatever good stuff life had in store for them. Calendula made their noses even cuter than they were, lending fresh charm to their faces. Nebula gave them the power to see through mists and fogs. Lucerna made them be able to shine as brightly as she does whenever they saw fit to, for one must not outshine everyone always. And Elysio – first I must explain that he is a very tiny fairy who is madly in love with Lucerna and who takes the shape of a moth so he can  twirl round her bright and shimmering head, which she can light up like a lamp whenever she pleases –  Elysio bestowed on the girls the delicate gift of appreciating beauty wherever it could be found.

I think I have never been at a name day party where so many gifts were given. All the guests were very generous. Even Botolph had presents for the babies, but he waited until the elder child had spoken out her name to hand them over.

And now I should explain how it went with their names. First to be asked what name she wished to be called was Botolpha. And she said just that, clearly and without hesitating. At that moment her mother appeared next to Wildgale and smiled at her daughter, who smiled back. And it was then that Botolph approached the girls and gave them packets of unfailing seeds so they could have their own gardens and not invade anyone else’s. He also gave each of them an amulet made of serpentine, a stone that he said would protect them from getting bitten by snakes that might creep upon them when they trod barefooted in grass.

“You see?” said Grandfather AEternus to his son Wildgale. “That is what you get for tormenting my gardener. Now you have a daughter named after him. And she will torment you. Just as you have me. I call that poetic justice. And something awful will happen to the rest of your brothers too, wait and see.”

And then it was the other little girl’s turn to say her name. She looked at her mother and smiled. And then she looked at her father, who was a little down at the mouth, and smiled even more sweetly. “Daisy!” she cried.

This provoked a lot of reactions. Wildgale was proudly speechless. Ula, Mathilde’s mother blurted out “Margarethe! Very adequate, little Gretel!” And “Oh!” went Richearth in disappointed surprise, but before he could say more, Branna whispered to him, “Now we can call our daughter Richenda!”

All went well from that moment on, save for one incident that had to do with the gifts the valkyries had brought for the girls. I had given them each a great big book of immersion, a fabulous pop in book, where one can jump in and live adventures just like the other characters. It is best to enjoy this kind of books in the company of someone who must watch over you from the outside, but my books were not the problem, though they also ended up flying in the air. I will explain why now. The loot the girls had gathered included spears that always hit their mark, hammers akin to Thor’s, axes that could bust anything in half, solid gold helmets, daggers that fought on their own, nets that trapped anything that moved and similar barbarities. Their grandmother Ula, always cautious, gave the girls the gift of never being hit by anything thrown at them. All such things would bounce backwards and fall at their feet. And it was then that Alpin decided to try and see if Ula’s gift really worked. He threw Christmas tree shaped sugar cookies at the girls and watched the cookies bounce back. This induced some of the kids present – the wilder ones, of course, - to amuse themselves casting stuff of worse kinds at the babies.

“Ignoramuses! Thus died Balder!” bellowed Uncle Richearth, shaking with fury. “Don’t anybody cast  mistletoe!”

I must remind the reader that this was the Christmas season and the whole place was choke full of poinsettias, holly and mistletoe. And yes, mistletoe had killed the god Balder when they were throwing things at him and it was the one thing that failed to bounce back.

“My daughters!” howled Uncle Wildgale, and only by the joint efforts of Mum, Uncle Gen and even Dad, could he be kept from blowing all the boisterous kids off the clouds. It was quite a spectacle to watch all three roll on the floor trying to cover Wildgale´s mouth. But it was Uncle Evenfall who put a stop to the riot, making all the thing-casters fall into a sudden and deep sleep.

“You see?” Mathilde said to Wildgale. “One can’t leave one’s house.”

“That is exactly what I always say,” said my grandfather AEternus. And from that moment on, he and this daughter-in-law of his got along famously. It also turned out she knew how to play both golf and chess.

"You married your father," said Alpin to Uncle Wildgale, who shrugged. 

“These little monsters won’t remember a thing about the bouncing off when they wake,” said Uncle Evenfall. He clapped his hands thrice and the sleeping kids woke and the party went on without further incidents.