08-10-2022, 02:14 PM
As the tall fir tree eventually agreed with Stanley Tundy's Shire horse that the spot it had sat in for twenty summers should
be turned over to cultivable land, the audible snapping of most of the conifer's moorings echoed between the other trees
awaiting an assumed similar fate. Tundy Senior looked over at his kid patting the huge beast's nose and waited for the nod
before he began to loosen the rope from the extracted evergreen. At the very least -Stanley thought as he tugged at the knot,
they'll have plenty of firewood when the bad weather arrived.
Gideon Tundy watched his father wrestle with the hemped-ligature and thought about his possible good fortune of meeting
Sarah Danvers next week. The first born of three children had overheard his mother this morning tell his Pa that the Elders
of Mornington were confident the weather was looking favourable for an appearance of the Sky Mirror and such a decree
meant a gathering. And a gathering meant -if his father said it was okay to get his chores done early, being with Sarah.
Edmund Danvers had a lot of acreage and a lot of merit around Mornington, Sarah's father got on well with his own Pa and
for the Tundys, it'd be a match made in heaven. But Gideon wasn't interested in all of that. The girl with hair of finely-spun
gold and eyes that a boy could swim in forever, she was what meant more than any fields of of tillable soil and smiles of
goodwill in the community. Such is real-life for a fifteen year-old lad in bib-and-braces.
"Take Sam in and get him fed, son" Stanley said without looking up from his task. The knot was well dug-in and he was
reluctant to take the knife to it. Usually, Gideon would reply with some half-hearted response, but only a magpie cackled
somewhere far off. "Now eh, get yer' head out of yer girlfrie..." the farmer began and then peered over to where the large
shaggy-legged horse idled in the muddy ground created by their morning's labour. Gideon wasn't there.
.................................................................
Peggy Powler smiled politely at the fawn-haired lassie and dropped another numma in her dainty pink hand. The coffee
was lovely and so had been the plate of bacon and beans, the second mug of sugar-laced java was pure indulgence.
"Will yer' tell yer' Ma Ah' think she's a wonderful cook" the little Witch said softly and ignored the curious glances from
the other patrons of Margie Goodwin's quaint home-cooked restaurant.
Rosalie Goodwin smiled back with pride and attempted a curtsy to the nice lady who didn't wear shoes. She seemed
nice and Rosalie believed that appearances can often fool the heart. "Yes of course and thank you, Miss...?" the pretty
ten year-old answered with a voice of a meadow lark and the customer's response caused the clientele who were still
eaves-dropping on the stunted conversation between the grubby-looking stranger and the graceful stripling, to rein their
nosiness in quickly. "Powler me-darlin', Peggy Powler".
She'd been to Mornington twice before and had preferred to keep away from the main centre of the village because of
past situations where Peggy believed she struggled to fit in. Last year, the little Witch had accepted the hospitality of
Gumby Gingerpot, a Gnome with a home that any Fae would envy.
On the far-side of the tor, the forests raced away for many leagues and it wouldn't be the first time that someone got
lost in all that thick woodland. Recently, there'd been some clearing done for farming and Gumby had remarked to his
guest that he was confident such destruction shouldn't effect his abode.
Not a bad conclusion Peggy had thought to herself as she'd sat beside his fire-hearth and sipped on her rose hip tea.
Gumby Gingerpot's subterranean dwelling lay among a cluster of boulders left behind when the soil was first scraped
away to make the artificial hill and it's doubtful any sod-buster would want to plough on a steep incline littered with
blade-blunting rocks.
Stepping out of Mrs Goodwin's eatery, the Last Witch of Underhill wondered if another visit to the boastful Gnome
would be a good idea considering the looks she was getting from the regulars of Mornington. Peggy was half-Fae
and it seemed that the other half didn't give her a free-pass in some places. "Bugger 'em" she muttered to herself
and watched the dead leaves of a dying season ride the breeze into the village square.
.................................................................
"I'm tellin' yer, Mister Forster, the footprints were size of me hoss' hooves..." Stanley Tundy said loudly and clutched
the recently-elected Councilman's sleeve for emphasis. "...One flick of a lamb's tail Gideon was there, the next he's
gone... snatched by an unseen hand" he appended and Chester Forster not only had faith in the farmer's words, the
ruddy-faced barber-cum-dentist also believed Tundy's eyes would fall out of their sockets very soon.
"Yer've got to get-up a posse, a search-party to help me look for me-boy" Stanley implored and waited for his elected
official to storm into action. Chester Drake gulped and wondered how to explain his new position could only muster
the idea of adding Mr Tundy's concern to the minutes for the next meeting. But it was during this short silence, a little
woman in a big hat stepped up beside the two men to ask if any word about the Sky Mirror had been offered.
Again, just another attempt to be accepted as a regular visitor to Mornington.
Setting the strap of her satchel on her shoulder, Peggy listened as the fellow with his shirttail hanging out, reiterated
his woes of his missing son and the strange markings he'd found on his property. Somewhere in the great ethereal,
a wheel of wager began to turn and lady-luck placed her bet. "Can Ah' be of assistance, Mister?" the little Sorceress
asked softly.
be turned over to cultivable land, the audible snapping of most of the conifer's moorings echoed between the other trees
awaiting an assumed similar fate. Tundy Senior looked over at his kid patting the huge beast's nose and waited for the nod
before he began to loosen the rope from the extracted evergreen. At the very least -Stanley thought as he tugged at the knot,
they'll have plenty of firewood when the bad weather arrived.
Gideon Tundy watched his father wrestle with the hemped-ligature and thought about his possible good fortune of meeting
Sarah Danvers next week. The first born of three children had overheard his mother this morning tell his Pa that the Elders
of Mornington were confident the weather was looking favourable for an appearance of the Sky Mirror and such a decree
meant a gathering. And a gathering meant -if his father said it was okay to get his chores done early, being with Sarah.
Edmund Danvers had a lot of acreage and a lot of merit around Mornington, Sarah's father got on well with his own Pa and
for the Tundys, it'd be a match made in heaven. But Gideon wasn't interested in all of that. The girl with hair of finely-spun
gold and eyes that a boy could swim in forever, she was what meant more than any fields of of tillable soil and smiles of
goodwill in the community. Such is real-life for a fifteen year-old lad in bib-and-braces.
"Take Sam in and get him fed, son" Stanley said without looking up from his task. The knot was well dug-in and he was
reluctant to take the knife to it. Usually, Gideon would reply with some half-hearted response, but only a magpie cackled
somewhere far off. "Now eh, get yer' head out of yer girlfrie..." the farmer began and then peered over to where the large
shaggy-legged horse idled in the muddy ground created by their morning's labour. Gideon wasn't there.
.................................................................
Peggy Powler smiled politely at the fawn-haired lassie and dropped another numma in her dainty pink hand. The coffee
was lovely and so had been the plate of bacon and beans, the second mug of sugar-laced java was pure indulgence.
"Will yer' tell yer' Ma Ah' think she's a wonderful cook" the little Witch said softly and ignored the curious glances from
the other patrons of Margie Goodwin's quaint home-cooked restaurant.
Rosalie Goodwin smiled back with pride and attempted a curtsy to the nice lady who didn't wear shoes. She seemed
nice and Rosalie believed that appearances can often fool the heart. "Yes of course and thank you, Miss...?" the pretty
ten year-old answered with a voice of a meadow lark and the customer's response caused the clientele who were still
eaves-dropping on the stunted conversation between the grubby-looking stranger and the graceful stripling, to rein their
nosiness in quickly. "Powler me-darlin', Peggy Powler".
She'd been to Mornington twice before and had preferred to keep away from the main centre of the village because of
past situations where Peggy believed she struggled to fit in. Last year, the little Witch had accepted the hospitality of
Gumby Gingerpot, a Gnome with a home that any Fae would envy.
On the far-side of the tor, the forests raced away for many leagues and it wouldn't be the first time that someone got
lost in all that thick woodland. Recently, there'd been some clearing done for farming and Gumby had remarked to his
guest that he was confident such destruction shouldn't effect his abode.
Not a bad conclusion Peggy had thought to herself as she'd sat beside his fire-hearth and sipped on her rose hip tea.
Gumby Gingerpot's subterranean dwelling lay among a cluster of boulders left behind when the soil was first scraped
away to make the artificial hill and it's doubtful any sod-buster would want to plough on a steep incline littered with
blade-blunting rocks.
Stepping out of Mrs Goodwin's eatery, the Last Witch of Underhill wondered if another visit to the boastful Gnome
would be a good idea considering the looks she was getting from the regulars of Mornington. Peggy was half-Fae
and it seemed that the other half didn't give her a free-pass in some places. "Bugger 'em" she muttered to herself
and watched the dead leaves of a dying season ride the breeze into the village square.
.................................................................
"I'm tellin' yer, Mister Forster, the footprints were size of me hoss' hooves..." Stanley Tundy said loudly and clutched
the recently-elected Councilman's sleeve for emphasis. "...One flick of a lamb's tail Gideon was there, the next he's
gone... snatched by an unseen hand" he appended and Chester Forster not only had faith in the farmer's words, the
ruddy-faced barber-cum-dentist also believed Tundy's eyes would fall out of their sockets very soon.
"Yer've got to get-up a posse, a search-party to help me look for me-boy" Stanley implored and waited for his elected
official to storm into action. Chester Drake gulped and wondered how to explain his new position could only muster
the idea of adding Mr Tundy's concern to the minutes for the next meeting. But it was during this short silence, a little
woman in a big hat stepped up beside the two men to ask if any word about the Sky Mirror had been offered.
Again, just another attempt to be accepted as a regular visitor to Mornington.
Setting the strap of her satchel on her shoulder, Peggy listened as the fellow with his shirttail hanging out, reiterated
his woes of his missing son and the strange markings he'd found on his property. Somewhere in the great ethereal,
a wheel of wager began to turn and lady-luck placed her bet. "Can Ah' be of assistance, Mister?" the little Sorceress
asked softly.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.