Gwil walked silently through the halls of the great mansion. His boots were loud on the stone floor. Guards quickly leapt to attention at their posts as he passed but he paid them no mind. He had his own worries for the moment. He strode past doorways spilling golden light into the darkness, ignoring the chatterings of servants and those who made their home in this household.
He studied the small plain door that led to the attic. He let out a small sigh and reached into his pocket. He pushed a heavy old key into the lock and gave it a heft twist. It opened with a heft clunk. Gwil put his shoulder to the wood, turned the doorknob, and shoved his way in.
The attic was brightly lit despite the late time of night. Golden globes of light hung from the sloping ceiling, powered by a source that Gwil had never seen run out. They filled the room with steady light and strange shadows. All the windows were nailed closed and drapes were thrown across them. Sheets of thin fabric hung among the lights, making the whole place feel like a dreamscape. It had made him dizzy the first time he had stepped in here.
Gwil made his way through the room. His eyes darted around the room. He felt out of place here — a hulking, gray bearded man in a fairy wonderland. But he forged ahead and stepped lightly in an attempt not to knock anything over.
He turned the corner and was faced with a great tent made out of sloping sheets. Light played from within, casting the silhouettes of a girl on the wall. Long slender arms, a simple dress, long straight hair. As he neared she paused in what seemed to be playing with a dollhouse and then leapt to her feet and came out of her cave.
She was tall and slim. Her feet and arms were bare beneath the sleeveless white dress. Her face was heart shaped and her full lips the color of rose petals. Her large eyes were purple, her long hair a black waterfall down her back and over her shoulders. She was a fairy stepping out of her fantastical home.
But the closer she came, the more unreal she seemed. She was perfectly symmetrical, down to a pair of star shaped beauty marks at the corner of each eye. Her hands were perfectly molded and she moved with elegance, but each step was small, as if she was in constant fear of losing her balance. And then, as she came to stand before him, he could nally see the hinges at her shoulders, elbows, and wrists. He knew the long dress hid the same for her hips, knees, and ankles. Each nger had hinges as well, and when she blinked there was a faint click. Her mouth didn’t move, stuck in a perpetual wooden smile.
“Gwilym!” she said. Her sweet, childlike voice came out slightly muffled. “It has been a while since you came.”
“Indeed,” he said. His old, gruff tone seemed out of place in this place. “How are you, Bryn?”
“I am doing wonderfully. The books you brought me last time were quite interesting. Thank you!”
“You are very welcome.” “Shall I return them today?” “Have you read them all?” “Yes! Twice!”
“Then I will bring you more tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Gwilym.”
Gwil nodded slowly. He watched as the puppet girl clattered away and back into her fortress
of blankets. He often wondered where she had come from. Her care had been passed to him when he took this job fifteen years ago. The blankets and lights had already been there, as had a dollhouse that she had shown him during those first weeks, a few worn stuffed animals, and a pile of intricate embroidery. So who had made her? Why had she been created? Some strange magic was at work and he doubted that he would ever know the truth. His days of adventurous youth were long past.
Bryn came out of her tent and handed him the books. He tucked them into the satchel at his side and looked at her. She tilted her head at him and blinked her eyes. He had long since gathered that she had to remind herself to do so. Sometimes she forgot.
“Is Lady Morwen better?”
“Yes. She had her baby just yesterday. They’re both healthy.”
“What of Lord Hier? Has he taken any new tenets here?”
“A few. The Blevins’ are back for their annual visit, and there’s a small family from the town
nearby who are here for a holiday as well. Other than that it’s just the usuals.”
“I see. How are the gardens?”
“At the end of their bloom. A few late flowers are still open, but the apple trees are about
ready to harvest. The village children will be called in to collect them soon.” “Mhm…”
Gwil could hear the wistfulness in Bryn’s tone. He looked down at her. He wondered when the last time she had been outside was. The answer came immediately. It must have been before he started his job as her ward because he had never let her out. He considered her quietly and then sighed and turned away.
“I’ll be back tomorrow with your books.”
“Thank you, Gwilym!” She was chipper once more. “Goodnight!”
“Goodnight.”
Gwil exited the glowing attic and locked the door behind him, leaving Bryn to crawl back
into her tent and play with her dolls or embroider or whatever it was she did. He tromped downstairs, his face set in a studious frown. As he passed the other guards and noticed their growing tiredness. A plan started to take place in his mind and his steps quickened. He had things to do before he went to see Bryn tomorrow.
“Sir Cadwallader?”
Gwil looked up from the desk, the quill he had been using pausing in its erratic scratching.
“Yes, Reese?”
The younger man in front of him gulped. “Um- I- uh-”
“Hurry up, man. I haven’t got all day.”
“I got a letter from home!” He blurted. “My mom is sick. Please, I need to go!”
Gwil eyed him. He looked down again and realized abruptly that his heart was galloping like
the rst time he had led a patrol or seen Seren in her wedding dress. “What’s your post?” “The back kitchen. Please, sir.”
“Yes, yes, stop blubbering,” he said shortly. He signed his name on the bottom of the sheet and then took out another paper. As the young guard fidgeted anxiously, Gwil wrote a quick note and signed his name on it. He handed it to him. “That’s your clearance. Get out.”
The young man stared. “But- who will take my post?”
“I’ll find someone. Go.”
“Yes- yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”
He scrambled out, his relief and surprise evident. Gwil let out a long low sigh and sat back in
his chair. He hadn’t expected things to fall into place so soon. All he needed now was to fail to repost a guard at the kitchen spot. Then the way would be clear.
He let out a small, self satisfied grunt and then leaned forward to continue his work.
Gwil unlocked the attic door and pushed it open. His satchel was heavy tonight. He had chosen quite a few books for Bryn and packed them in tightly. He was well aware of their weight as he strode into the wonderland.
“Good evening, Bryn,” he said as she came out of her tent. He held out the satchel. “Your books.”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “Thank you, Gwilym!”
Gwil helped to bring out the books and she accepted them, looking through them briefly before putting them in her tent. She came back out. “Are you staying long?”
“A little while. But we have to go soon.”
“…we?”
Gwil nodded. His heart was pounding again and he felt as though it was his little brother’s
birthday. He pulled out the last thing in the satchel — a long gray cape and cowl. He held it out to her wordlessly and she took it. She held it in her wooden hands, her eyes drinking in the texture she could not feel. She did not look up at him when she spoke.
“What is this for?”
“It is to hide your face when we go outside.”
Bryn finally turned her gaze to his. He locked eyes with her. Then she said, in a small voice
that seemed even smaller in the crowded attic.
“We’re going outside?”
Gwil nodded. Bryn stared at him with her emotionless glass eyes. Then, slowly, she put on
the cloak and flipped up the hood. Her eyes glittered almost human-like in the golden lights of the room.
“Yes, please.”
Gwil nodded and turned around. He beckoned for her to follow and she did. He opened the attic door and stood to the side, waiting for her to step out. She paused at the threshold and stared down the dark expanse. And then she seemed to decide that it was time and took her first step down.
Gwil followed her closely down the steps, closing and locking the door behind them. At the bottom he moved in front to lead. Her wooden feet were silent on the carpeted main halls but clacked as almost as loudly as shoes on the stone of the plain side halls. He peered around each corner and walked quickly. She easily kept up, unhindered by stamina and the need to breathe. Before too long, they had reached the kitchen and he was stepping out into the clear night air and gesturing for Bryn to do the same.
Bryn once again hesitated at the door but this time she came out more eagerly. She made her small dancing steps out into the clear air. Her head tilted back, searching out the sky. Gwil closed the door and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s move into the garden. Then you can look.”
She nodded and followed him once more. He led down the cobbled path bathed in moonlight, moving slowly as she kept looking up at the starry sky in wonder. Before long they had reached the gardens.
The gardens were near empty this time of year. Yet even as autumn crept in and warned of a winter to come, there were flowers in bloom. The trees were at their nest, reds and golds unseen in the moonlight. The few leaves that had escaped the notice of meticulous gardeners crunched beneath tiny feet and large boots, belying their late year color.
Their pace slowed to a crawl as she bent over every flower and bush. Unable to feel anything with her wooden fingers or smell with her closed nose, she drank in every texture and joy with her eyes. Flowers and thorns and leaves were of every interest. She asked what the colors were and as he told them she seemed to become more and more delighted.
Soon, she began to ask what the flowers were called, and he answered as best he could. The third time he couldn’t, she turned and asked if she could keep a few of the late blooming flowers and then get a book that she could look them up in.
Gwil’s mind turned to a happy little girl, asking the same question. Her sunny smile and golden hair were a memory too bright for the time it had been since he had stood with her. “Yes, you can do that.”
“Thank you, Gwilym!”
Bryn began to carefully pluck some of the flowers and scooped up leaves from the ground, cupping them in her hands. She was extremely careful with them, well aware that she could accidentally crush them in her unfeeling hands.
Gwil watched her for a moment and then held out a hand. “Here. I’ll carry them for you.” “Thank you, Gwilym!”
He turned away. “Let’s keep going.”
They walked to the middle of the garden. Gwil went and sat on one of the benches beneath
the apple tree and watched as Bryn tottered in her awkwardly elegant manner. She bent over every bush, trying to tell if she had this flower already before picking one. Gwil held his palms open and accepted every flower she brought before folding it into one of the books he had brought along. After a while, he pulled out a small notebook and began to place the flowers and leaves inside of it. Each item he pressed between the pages seemed like a bright jewel of memory: Seren, picking berries and laughing, Efa, with a flower crown in her honeyed hair, Celyn, cartwheeling through the long grass.
He was contemplating a delicate leaf when Bryn suddenly stumbled away from him, her head towards the sky. “Gwilym! Look! The stars are falling!”
Gwil looked up and let out a small breath. He went to stand beside Bryn. “They’re called shooting stars. It’s a star shower.”
“It’s beautiful…” Bryn breathed. Gwil nodded. “Yes. Yes it is.”
They stood beneath the stars for a long long time, watching the sky rain down stars. Finally, after almost an hour, the last star streaked by. Gwil turned to Bryn and opened his mouth to tell her it was time to go inside. He froze and for a second he was sure his eyes were deceiving him.
Instead of Bryn, there was Efa. His Efa, his daughter of eight years, blonde haired and blue eyed. Beside her stood Celyn, his ten year old son, brown hair and blue eyed. And there was Seren, behind them. Her hair was dark brown and her eyes the summertime blue of the sky after a storm. They stood in full color, as if instead of moonlight they stood under a noonday sun. And yet he could see the stars in their eyes as they pointed skyward and laughed and smiled.
Efa turned to look at him and she beamed at him, as bright as the moon. “Thank you, Dad!”
Gwil didn’t realize he was crying until he reached up to brush at his cheek and his fingers came away wet. He quickly brushed the tears away and inhaled the sweet scent of the warm autumn air. He turned his face back towards the sky and finally felt himself breathe.
They stood under the stars for a long time. The stars had stopped falling and the heavens were calm once more. Even still, they stared at the stars. Gwil had no desire to go inside yet. He wanted to stand out here until the sun rose and Bryn could see the world in full color.
“Gwil?” He turned to look at Bryn. “I think it’s time to go.”
Gwil reluctantly nodded. He picked up his book and the satchel and Bryn pulled her hood up. He led her back through the garden, just as slowly as before, as she bid farewell to the flowers and the leaves and the sky with every step. He opened the door and hurried through the silent halls, avoiding the guards that were stationed around the mansion. He climbed the stairs and unlocked the door, opening it into the fairyland and stepping aside to let Bryn in.
They stood for a moment in the doorway, she inside her dreamscape, he at the threshold. He didn’t want to let go of the dream of that vision he had seen, and yet the call of sleep pulled at him from his room in the lower reaches of the building. Bryn looked up at him expectantly. Gwil held out the book to her and she took it.
“I will bring a book of plants tomorrow,” he said.
She nodded wordlessly. Gwil waited for a moment and then turned to go. “Goodnight, Bryn.”
In a rush of fabric and weight, Bryn leapt up and latched around him in a hug. Gwil
stumbled but managed to catch them both. He held her awkwardly, unsure of what to do with the girl.
“Thank you, Gwilym,” she whispered. “Goodnight.”
Tears filled his eyes. He hugged her back tightly and a smile broke across his lined face. “You’re welcome, Bryn.”
