Once upon a time, on a bright morning with birds chirping, there was a young girl named Tina. Tina was curious, and in her magical land, she loved hearing the tales of fairies who brought joy and laughter. She always wished to meet them and danced under the moonlight each evening, hoping they would see her.
In her exploration one day, Tina came across a hidden glade filled with shimmering flowers. There, lying among the petals, was an ancient flute. Tina picked it up, and as she did, a gentle breeze whispered through the leaves, promising magic. Enthusiastically, she threw the flute to her lips and began to play. The music was sweet and ethereal, echoing through the trees. Suddenly, as if drawn by the melody, fairies began to emerge, swirling around her in a gleeful dance.
Days turned to weeks, and every morning, Tina would play her flute, and every morning the fairies would come to dance. But one day, something terrible happened. When she rose, the flute lay nowhere to be found. She looked high and low, asking every creature in the glade, but nobody had seen it. Without her music, the fairies, no longer summoned, faded like the morning mist, and soon, not even a whisper of laughter could be heard.
Feeling hopeless, Tina sat beneath the Ancient Oak, tears cascading down her cheeks. “My dear fairies, where are you?” she mourned. Her questions rustled the leaves, but there was no answer.
Just then, Tina’s loyal cat, Moonbeam, approached. “There, there, dear Tina. All is not gone. Let’s find your precious flute.” Soon after, a brave squirrel named Chatter and a wise old owl named Helios joined them. “Worry not, dear child,” said Helios. “The flute calls to those who wish to save it. Let us find the cause behind its silence.”
The old owl closed his eyes and spoke the ancient words of riddle-seekers, “To solve a mystery, look underneath the whispers of those who stir the air.” Questions filled Tina’s mind. “What could this mean?” she wondered.
“Follow me,” said Chatter, scampering off into the forest. The team followed until they reached a bubbling brook.
“Here,” said Moonbeam, “There are whispering sounds from the water. Could it be a clue?” They huddled, listening carefully. Suddenly, Chatter spotted colorful fish dancing beneath the water. “It is these fish!” he exclaimed. “They are the whispers, don’t you see? But what do they hide beneath?”
Under the water, a small hidden cave could be seen. But even a brave squirrel hesitated to dive deep into the unknown. “Shall I recover your flute?” asked Moonbeam. Tina nodded, hopeful.
With unexpected grace, the cat leaped into the brook, diving deeper and deeper. Minutes felt like hours until finally, Moonbeam emerged, breathless yet victorious, with the flute carefully held in her mouth. Tina embraced her cat, joyfully laughing. “We have it! We have it!” she shouted.
Delicately, Tina wiped her flute and began to play. The music carried through the trees, and soon, like as before, the fairies descended upon her. They laughed, they danced, and this time, there were more than ever! Tina joyfully noted the hidden fish watching from the brook and smiled, realizing life bloomed everywhere, indifferent to one’s presence, but connected by unseen threads.
However, peace in the glade was soon broken by the rumblings of an unkind troll who resided nearby. He had watched every moment from the shadows, enraged by the return of the fae. “Stop! Be silent! You disturb my solitude!” he shouted, shaking his huge fist at Tina and the fairies.
“I shall not!” Tina bravely retorted. “You have no power here to quiet our music!” At this, the troll grew even more angry. “Beat your drums if you like, but I will take them and cast them into my deep dungeon hole!”
“No! You shan’t!” hollered Tina above the buzzing chorus of the fairies and her friends. But before she could protest further, the troll came crashing through the trees, and snatched Tina’s flute from her hands, disappearing as swiftly as he came.
Time went silent, even the fairies felt the loss. No laughter, no singing. The trolls drums boomed deeper than the chaos of the glade, carrying all away like the rapids of an angry river. Hope faded, but not yet was it lost, for Tina and her friends knew they must fight to recover the flute.
“Let us go forth,” said Helios. “Time wasted could be the defeat of musical triumph. Trust one another with courage in your hearts.”
Their path led them steeply up a rocky cliffway lined with lush green grass and gnarled vines. Climbing was no simple task, but they braved it together, spirits firm. Yet, further they ventured, and further still, dread gripped Tina’s heart at the depths of darkness about to swallow them whole.
Once or twice, the troll’s laughter rang dully, chilling them all to the bone, as did the question of whether or not the troll ate the lost fairies. Inside the cave, the sounds of enormous movements and instruments hardly fathomable echoed through the black hollow, fires crackling wildly.
“There,” whispered Chatter, peering cautiously into the small opening. “He sits atop an enormous mound of bearskins, his treasure pile hidden above. Even from my distance, I see the flute bright underfoot.”
Moonbeam asked, “Even if our beloved flute is in sight, how shall we overpower him? He is large and fearsome indeed.”
A sudden thought inspired Tina. “As a troll loves no beauty,” she began, “let’s make the only thing here to love be the black and dreadful darkness.”
The friends promptly set to work. They collected and twisted vines thick to fashion a huge curtain to guard the entrance of the cave. As dark as night, the curtain danced as produced by a gentle breeze. When they finished, they aligned themselves along the path that led into the cave, waiting with bated breath for the troll to appear.
Moments later came a stomping of heavy footsteps, and the sound of muffled drums. The half-charmed troll, amazed at the view, unwittingly veered afoot onto the pile of bearskins, throwing them high into the air. As they fluttered down, the troll could barely see as layers and layers wrapped all about him. He was trapped.
“Bleed those drums as you will, but keep me out of the veil of Rip van Winkle.” Thus said Helios.
Tina joyously took her flute from the ruins of the fallen bearskins, its brightness now clearer than ever. “Rejoice! We have triumphed!” Then, she played. Gradually, the cave glowed. All creatures of the underworld, ribs rattling and joints rustling, crept forth out of dread and inescapable bondage, their limbs shaking and their earthly tortures ceased.
Soon the glade was white with fireflies gathered, the calm river grew stormy with fish overhead, while the trolls, fainting, hid in despair down the remote crannies and clearest bays, whose breath quickened with the whispers of the mermaids.
The fairies doubled their dances, and Tina felt very brave indeed as the shadow grew lighter, and the merry chorus of Christmas chimed in to every silver leaf. No sooner had the first faint streak of dawn appeared than all were safely out and the curtain linkage struck.
It was that the fairies never cease their triumphal music, never stop their fairy revelry in the clean, broad lamps of the land, for each new day, and every new night, show heart and head again shaping white with the cold crystal light of the moons drifting gold, and for sweet Tina, in breathless silence, the flute now here beneath the moss, the crowding fairies ever whirling, and her friends all around.
“Then, what is music but the sympathy and love that beats throughout every fibre of our hearts?” she said gently to Moonbeam, who sat in her lap purring, shivering beautifully as if enchanted.
All were wiped now from tears or fear, each and everyone thankful, and that not even dark trolls should bring misery, nor giant Og himself find humour, as he thrust aside the flames that fell black on the floor, for underneath to bite heroine and her animals at his own sweet will.
With the dawn, daylight answered with moist silence, and ever and anon the leaves shimmered beneath the circling flutters and wild dips of a swarm of gossamer wings glinting new sunbright and chromatic shades, weaving a-dance on the sweet air soap-bubbles awoke to mingle.
In vain did Og and the trolls surround the floating symphony, still the fairies went on believing and striving and waving new-colored pennons in the air.
Hope shone in every eye, each little heart fluttered again as Tina lightly played.