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Date Posted: 22:20:05 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Repost Fairy
Author Host/IP: 64.193.19.25
Subject: Gypsies and Criminals - Part 2a
In reply to: KT 's message, "Gypsies and Criminals" on 22:11:54 05/03/02 Fri

Gypsies and Criminals - Part 2a
By KT
Copyright April, 2002

The mountain hut was quiet as Nikita approached. This was her favorite time of day, when the fairies were all tucked into their cloudy beds, when the only music was the wind, the buzzing of insects, and finches tittering as they flitted about the thatched roof. She studied the neat bundles that Walter and Jason had painstakingly woven. Sturdy and deftly made, they turned back the rain and snow of even the fiercest storms. There were windows, protected by the skins of goats, which could be rolled up and down as the weather and temperature required.

Nikita walked to the rear of the dwelling, emptying her buckets into Walter's ingenious reservoirs. He had dug holes in the ground and lined them with layers of large stones. Their tiered design allowed the water the flow slightly downhill, and at the bottom, spilled gently into a pond in the pasture for the creatures to drink from. A slatted wooden gate allowed the water out as needed, holding the precious drops back so they wouldn't be wasted.

She felt the sweat trickle down her back, and looked at the water longlingly. A swim would feel so good, but she knew she would have to go back to the river for that. This water was reserved for cooking and drinking. Bathing was strictly forbidden. She walked around the house and hung her buckets on a special rack that Walter had built. He was getting older, no doubt about it. What would they do without him when his time came to return to the dust?

Nikita stood at the rear of the house and squinted. She could just make out Robie, Jason, Jule, and Walter working in the grain field. Goats and sheep grazed around them. Now there would be a few hours to herself, and she laid down on the bales of straw that sat in the yard. There was no fence, only the pens for the animals. Her eyes closed and she drifted into the world between waking and dreaming...

The gypsies camped for the night near the river. Nikita hid in a place she knew well and watched as they lit their fires and pulled out their musical instruments. Harps and pipes filled the air with delight and mystery as ancient melodies wove their spell. Dancers paired and spun in the golden glow, and food was passed around. Delicious smells mingled with the music and the chatter.

At the edge of the circle, a dark-eyed beauty with sleek black hair sat holding her young son on her lap. Her dress glinted with threads of gold among its colorful fibers, and a shawl of fine wool covered her shoulders. Her eyes were fixed on a man who stood on the other side of the fires. He was returning her gaze, his expression unreadable. They made no move toward each other, only watched in silence. The man was tall, a bit stocky, but beautifully made. His hair was long and wavy, and glinted in the dim glow. He was dressed all in black.

The music faded and the dancers receded, but the man, woman, and child continued to stare at each other until the fires died to orange embers. Darkness fell. At last, the man turned from the circle, peering into the shadows at the place where Nikita was hiding. He stopped, head up, eyes alert. Her heart froze at the possibility of imminent discovery. She held as still as the deer in the forest, scarcely breathing. Her eyes met his, but she knew he could not see her. After a minute, he gave up his searching and disappeared into one of the wagons. The woman gathered her son in her arms and moved away to her own wagon. All was silent...

Nikita was awakened by something soft brushing her arm. She opened her eyes and looked into a pair of blazing blue ones surrounded by a bright cloud of long red hair. Giggles became laughter as Nikita's hands were captured by her sister Jule's, pulling her up from her reverie. They began to dance in a ring and sing nonsense syllables.

"Have you finished the candlemaking?" Nikita asked, breathless from their twirling.

"Yes. It's done."

Jule's girlish laughter rang out. She suddenly let go of Nikita's hands and collapsed onto the grassy sod, gazing upward, her arms flung wide, stretching from her shoulders to form a cross. Ominous clouds were at last gathering in the wide sky, and the heat started to diminish. Nikita dropped to the ground and mimicked her sister's shape, grasping handfuls of the coarse grass, cool against her palms. Perhaps it would rain after all.

Nikita glanced over at her sister. "The fairies mocked me today."

Well, they weren't really sisters. Robie had told her the story many times. She had been a foundling, left on the side of the road in a basket made of withes, wrapped in a cloth rich with colors, embroidered with tiny white stars. Robie hadn't the heart to leave her, and so she became Nikita, daughter to Robie. Her mother put the beautiful cloth away, looking at it every so often, wondering about its origin. The keepsake reminded her to be grateful for the bright spirit it had brought into her life.

Robie had, until then, been unable to conceive a child, but not long afterward, Robie had become pregnant with Jule, whose father had been Robie's husband. Jason had been born eighteen months later, the survivor of twin boys. Robie's husband Filip had left to hunt one day, and never returned. When Walter heard of his son's disappearance, he scoured the area, but without results. From that day on, he lived with Robie and the children, helping her to feed and care for them.

The folk around were superstitious about foundlings, saying they were fairy born fallen to earth who grew too big to return to their own. "Bad luck follows the foundling" was the saying. But Robie ignored them, and her daughter grew up and more beautiful year by year, kept company by her sister and brother.

"Really..." Jule had never believed in fairies, but humored Nikita, as always.

They were close, bonded together by the isolation of their location and the hard life they lived. Work was neverending... skins to be cured, food to be gathered and preserved, fires to be kept burning, cloth to be woven, candles to be made from the tallow of sheep's wool. Jason cared for and fed their animals. Walter tended to the hunting and sowing of grain, teaching Jason all his ways as he grew older. Jule sighed as her mirthful mood turned somber.

"...really, Nikita. Such nonsense. When will you grow up?" She sounded as if she were the older sister.

Nikita flinched at Jule's words. That was the problem exactly. She was growing up, losing touch with her childhood things, the hornpipes and fairies' songs growing fainter every day. A pang of longing, a wish to stop time, to have things remain unchanged forever, swept over her. She extended her arms toward the sky, studying her ever-growing dimensions. She wiggled her fingers and toes, and flexed the muscles in her long legs.

Time would never stand still. Her heart knew it was a foolish wish. Besides, she could never leave home if she didn't grow old enough to be on her own. The haunting dreams of the gypsies followed her everywhere, but she had never told a soul, not even Walter.

"Oh, I shall be grown soon enough." A tiny shaft of bitterness escaped. "You shall miss me when I go."

Jule stared. "Go? Where?" She had never really thought that any of them would leave the land.

"Don't know." Nikita suddenly regretted her remark. "Just... well, you'll miss me, that's all."

Before Jule could prod her for further information, Robie, Jason, and Walter straggled in, and it was time to eat. Nikita greeted each of them with a kiss, helping to unload the baskets they carried on their backs... another of Walter's wonderful inventions. Soon the grain was stored in wooden bins, and everyone retired to the evening meal.

The setting sun was obscured by the rainclouds, and the soft patter of the drops made sleep come easily. Walter gave prayers of thanks as he checked on everyone before settling onto his palette. Surely the grain would prosper after such a rain. His tired bones creaked. He bestowed a loving look upon Nikita as she slept. Truly it had been an auspicious day when she came to Robie.

Walter had never given sanction to his son's marriage. He held that Robie was a weak and unruly woman who would never be tamed by a husband. And for a long time, that was true, and created a rift between father and son. Robie's dark beauty had become ravaged by the elements, but Filip loved her all the same.

When Nikita came, Robie changed. Her sadness at being unable to give her husband a child vanished, replaced by youthful energy that had something good to be directed at. The role of motherhood calmed and settled her, and Walter mended the gap between him and Filip. This healing gave Robie the courage to face her father-in-law and form a new relationship. They were all made better by Nikita's presence.

Walter pulled his blanket over him and fell into a dead sleep, the sleep of the truly weary. The sound of the rain accompanied him, and soothed the spirits of all who slept in the shadow of the mountain.

* * * * * * * *

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Replies:

  • Gypsies and Criminals - Part 2b -- Repost Fairy, 22:22:44 05/03/02 Fri
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