Unpleasant Encounters with Fairies – Episode 2
That night, I locked the door to my sleeping chamber. Not that it would have made any difference as far as the fairies were concerned, but it made me feel better.
I’d spent the afternoon looking over my shoulder, while walking the castle’s battlements, which, Grimmon Darkly had assured me, was safer than being indoors. As long as I kept moving, he’d said, the fairies would leave me alone.
(I should briefly interject to clarify that Darkly is Grimmon’s last name, and not that I’m implying he’d spoken in a sombre tone. He insists Darkly is a common name amongst goblins).
He’d also told me it would be better to sleep out in the open, which was a bit rich seeing as he’d gone inside as soon as the rain had started, saying it wasn’t him who’d upset the fairies, so he had nothing to fear.
Standing alone in the dark, miserable and soaked, I’d decided enough was enough and stalked to my bedroom shortly after he’d left.
I’d fallen asleep unmolested by fairies, secure in my four-poster bed. Or, at least, feeling secure because, as I said, I’d locked the door.
It seemed like only minutes had passed when I was woken by the vigorous shaking of a small, bony hand on my shoulder.
“Get up,” said Grimmon.
“What?” I tried to sound fresh and alert, while, in reality, my brain was as active as a boiled turnip. Sleep swam away, and I reluctantly raised my head and glared at the goblin who’d so rudely interrupted my slumber. He’d already opened the curtains and bright morning sunlight was pouring in through the window.
“It’s bad,” he said.
“Why? No toast for breakfast? Have we run out of bread again?” I said, sitting up and turning my face away so he wouldn’t see me wiping the drool off my cheek.
“No. It’s the fairies.” The tip of one pointed ear wobbled as he wiggled a finger in its recesses. “We need to do something, quickly.”
I was in no mood to be hurried. He shuffled his feet impatiently while I pulled a dressing gown over my pyjamas, and groaned like Great Aunt Clarence’s settee when I couldn’t find my slippers.
I can’t remember how many years ago Grimmon came to live in Castle Silverhill, but I do recall it took months for him to get used to navigating around the ancient pile. You see, some places in the castle aren’t where you’d expect them to be. Take my studio, for instance. If you’re outside, you’ll see it perched at the very top of the tallest tower. If you stand inside it and gaze out of the windows, you’ll have a bird’s-eye view of the slate roofs of the castle’s other buildings, and the walkways and battlements of the curtain wall.
Despite that, to get to my studio from some parts of the castle, you have to go downstairs.
Which is the way Grimmon led me upon leaving my sleeping chamber.
By the time we got there, my stomach was rumbling and I wondered aloud whether we couldn’t go to the dining room instead, but Grimmon grabbed my arm, pulled me into my studio, and pointed.
Loops and coils of dark, stringy moss dangled from the rafters, some nearly touching the floor. The air reeked of the earthy scent of a forest.
“The fairies did this?” I said, rubbing my eyes.
“Of course they did! Who else?”
“It might have been you… or the cook.”
A loud snort escaped the goblin’s nostrils. “You forgot to mention the ghost.”
Apart from me and Grimmon, the only other occupants of Castle Silverhill are a person who claims she used to be a chef for some royal or other, and a poltergeist. As far as I’m aware, anyway.
“There’s no need to be sarcastic.” I folded my arms. Then a thought entered my sleep-befuddled brain. “How did you get into my room? The door was locked.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Grimmon’s pupils slid to the side. “We’re wasting time. You need to sort this out.”
“All right.” I yanked on a strand of moss. It fell to the floor.
“Well, it’s a start. But what about all that?” The goblin pointed at the open door behind us.
I turned around. Curtains of moss choked the stairway we had used only minutes earlier.
We were trapped.
***
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