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Commissions were slow at the moment, so Sam had left his small balcony greenhouse well tended to go hunting for rarer ingredients in the evening. He found it fortunate that he enjoyed Herbology just as much as he did Potions. The Herbologist who disliked Potions could sell their work, but the Potions Master who disliked his plants was forced to pay exorbitant prices for quality goods.
There was twelve-thousand square kilometers of forest to traverse, and Sam had many delightful evenings spent watching deer and harvesting nightshade by the full moon. The particular evening, a delightfully cold l'hiver half-moon, Sam had found fairies, and he whipped out his sketchbook and stayed still and silent while he sketched them frolicking through the snowflakes. The entire glen he was nestled in was filled with their twinkling lights, and he knew that they knew he saw them, and swore they danced all the merrier for his watching. There were squeaks and titters at the introduction of a new fairy brood, and the entire glen started to move off further into the woods. Sam was terribly disappointed, but they seemed to have found something interesting.
Sometimes when he watched fairies, they moved to mushroom rings that they allowed him to harvest after they were done merry-making, so he collected his sketchbook and crunched through the snow after them. The lights grew brighter until he was wincing and shielding his eyes at the gaps in the trees. Why, there must have been thousands of fairies to make such a light! But no; the little flying imps merely hid and gossiped at the edge of the light source, which was an enormous circus tent surrounded by a field of smaller tents, right here in the middle of French woodlands.
Sam gaped and stood at the edge for a long time. Gypsies wove in and out between tents, carousing and laughing, and no one paid him any mind (or so he thought) though he was bumped into frequently. Sam realised that he was walking through the tents, now, turning his head this way and that to take in the bizarre and fantastical sight. The sights, smells and warmth of the La Grande Tour Circa seemed more than an illusion, but Sam was almost sure he'd walked into a glamour or been hexed.
Unnoticed by him, a few fairies had hidden in the folds of his clothes to hitch a ride through the camp in the shadow of his large frame. Some of the circus troupe noticed, however, and giggled to themselves as loud and unashamed as the fairies. Eventually he found himself in the heart of the camp where a large bonfire blazed, members of the Circa lounging around baking things over it, drinking, arguing or blatantly making out. By this time, Sam was sure he was dreaming, so he didn't find any of this particularly odd, although watching passionate partners lip-locked in front of him without a care in the world was fairly embarrassing.
His eyes were drawn to the center of them all; a truly colossal man with shoulders as wide as the woman next to him was tall. He thought woman, but really she was just a very large fairy. She shimmered in the firelight and flapped her wings with little twitches of her shoulders, so thin and perfect that she looked as though she'd blow away in the breeze. The fairy was trying to climb the giant's shoulders, and the giant was just barely allowing it as he was trying to stir a pot of something over a smaller fire next to the stack.
In reality, Sam was the oddest inhabitant of them all. He was sensibly wrapped in winter gear and carried a satchel, his forgotten sketchpad and quill hanging lax in his hands while bright fairies hovered between his legs and under his ears where it was darkest, so that they would shine the brightest. This was the loveliest fairy glamour he'd ever seen.
There was twelve-thousand square kilometers of forest to traverse, and Sam had many delightful evenings spent watching deer and harvesting nightshade by the full moon. The particular evening, a delightfully cold l'hiver half-moon, Sam had found fairies, and he whipped out his sketchbook and stayed still and silent while he sketched them frolicking through the snowflakes. The entire glen he was nestled in was filled with their twinkling lights, and he knew that they knew he saw them, and swore they danced all the merrier for his watching. There were squeaks and titters at the introduction of a new fairy brood, and the entire glen started to move off further into the woods. Sam was terribly disappointed, but they seemed to have found something interesting.
Sometimes when he watched fairies, they moved to mushroom rings that they allowed him to harvest after they were done merry-making, so he collected his sketchbook and crunched through the snow after them. The lights grew brighter until he was wincing and shielding his eyes at the gaps in the trees. Why, there must have been thousands of fairies to make such a light! But no; the little flying imps merely hid and gossiped at the edge of the light source, which was an enormous circus tent surrounded by a field of smaller tents, right here in the middle of French woodlands.
Sam gaped and stood at the edge for a long time. Gypsies wove in and out between tents, carousing and laughing, and no one paid him any mind (or so he thought) though he was bumped into frequently. Sam realised that he was walking through the tents, now, turning his head this way and that to take in the bizarre and fantastical sight. The sights, smells and warmth of the La Grande Tour Circa seemed more than an illusion, but Sam was almost sure he'd walked into a glamour or been hexed.
Unnoticed by him, a few fairies had hidden in the folds of his clothes to hitch a ride through the camp in the shadow of his large frame. Some of the circus troupe noticed, however, and giggled to themselves as loud and unashamed as the fairies. Eventually he found himself in the heart of the camp where a large bonfire blazed, members of the Circa lounging around baking things over it, drinking, arguing or blatantly making out. By this time, Sam was sure he was dreaming, so he didn't find any of this particularly odd, although watching passionate partners lip-locked in front of him without a care in the world was fairly embarrassing.
His eyes were drawn to the center of them all; a truly colossal man with shoulders as wide as the woman next to him was tall. He thought woman, but really she was just a very large fairy. She shimmered in the firelight and flapped her wings with little twitches of her shoulders, so thin and perfect that she looked as though she'd blow away in the breeze. The fairy was trying to climb the giant's shoulders, and the giant was just barely allowing it as he was trying to stir a pot of something over a smaller fire next to the stack.
In reality, Sam was the oddest inhabitant of them all. He was sensibly wrapped in winter gear and carried a satchel, his forgotten sketchpad and quill hanging lax in his hands while bright fairies hovered between his legs and under his ears where it was darkest, so that they would shine the brightest. This was the loveliest fairy glamour he'd ever seen.
