A Brief History of Fernwhistle

A Brief History of Fernwhistle:

As Told Through the Musical Stylings of Navers M. Tamias

written by: Adrienne Hertler

 

“Are we all here? P-pardon me, but has everyone arrived?” Navers squeaked over the clangorous, although pleasant, chatter of his friends. The packed dirt walls of his little home didn’t produce much of an echo, but all who had gathered that evening were ringing with excitement, and this made it difficult for Navers’s small, dwemling voice to be heard.

“HOO! HOO!” shouted Ernst. He was small for a feyralk, but his voice was full and powerful. Everyone turned to look.

“Navers is trying to say something,” Ernst said.

“What’s he saying?” said Crem, a nervous-looking bogthatch who was doing his best to look confident in his new hat. It was made of a vibrant purple bell flower, its petals slipping down and covering the tops of Crem’s eyelids. He had thought it made him look rather sophisticated when he looked at his reflection that morning, but now he felt a bit foolish.

“Don’t know,” Ernst replied. “What were you asking, boss?”
“I was asking if everyone was here,” Navers sighed. His paws repeatedly smoothed the brown fur of his face, a nervous habit that almost always appeared during important rehearsals.

“How can we know if everyone is here if we can’t see the ones who are missing? It would be better to ask us who we do not see,” an icy, feminine voice whispered from the shadows.

Navers’s home was constructed of just one circular room, and yet Missulena still managed to find a darkened corner to creep around in. It suited her, but Navers didn’t think he would ever get used to her disembodied voice.

“Well said, Missulena. Why don’t we all look around and see if we notice anyone who is missing,” Navers tried.

Eight delicate black legs slipped out of the darkness and gripped the dirt wall around it. Missulena’s small, round head emerged from the darkness and peered around the room. Her five black eyes gleamed red in the light of the stone hearth’s fire.

“Where’s Franlin?” Missulena murmured.

“And Fennick?” Crem groaned, looking around dubiously.

A loud thunk shook the little teapot on Navers’s kitchen table. Crem put a sticky green hand on it to stop it from toppling over.

“Here I am!” Franlin said, rubbing the spot on his head that had collided with the table. His pale, pink skin was a harsh contrast to the warm orange and brown hues of Navers’s underground hovel.

“Who was supposed to be watching Franlin?” Ernst said.

“I don’t need to be watched!” Franlin protested. “Incidentally, isn’t that table usually on the other side of the room?”

“Maybe we ought to take roll,” Navers said, running a paw down his snout.
“Good idea,” Missulena said. She poured tea into a tiny porcelain teacup and retreated back into the darkness with it.

“Navers…present!” chirped Navers, amusing himself. “Missulena?”

“You already know I’m here, dearest.” Her detached voice floated out of the void.

Navers made a note in his tiny notebook. “Crem?”

“Present!”

“Ernst!”

“Hoo!”

“Fennick!”

No one answered.

“I think we’d see him if he were here,” Crem said, adjusting his hat and glaring around suspiciously.

“Well-well…let’s get started without him. We have to get the opening song just right. First impressions are everything, and if the first song isn’t right, they certainly won’t care to hear the rest of them.” Navers put down his pad of paper and moved towards his well-loved armchair.

“I know I put it here somewhere…” His brown, black, and white flecked tail nearly knocked the teapot off the table again as he leaned over the chair to dig around in its cushions.

“Ah-ha!” he said, pulling a crabgrass flute out of the back of the chair cushion.

“Who says they’ll want to hear any of it?” Missulena muttered.

“It is the neighborly thing to do. And what better welcome than learning about the history of our town…through song!” Navers was glowing with passion.

The rest of the group groaned in unison. Navers scowled only for a moment and then resumed being the cheery leader he felt they needed.

“My friends, we only have one hour until the performance, and some of you don’t even know the lyrics.”

Webbed feet, paws, and talons shuffled on the hand-woven rugs they stood on.
“Well, do you at least have your instruments?” Navers demanded.

Crem held up his twig fiddle. Franlin adjusted the mouthpiece on his flower trumpet.

Missulena crawled along the wall to the kitchen cupboards, her front four legs opening the cabinets below her and removing an assortment of pots and pans.

“Oh! I thought I told you to bring your own this time, Missy!” Navers cried, watching her arrange his clean pots on the ground.

“I don’t cook my food, darling,” she said, pulling two wooden spoons out of a drawer. “These should do.” She whacked the spoons against the flipped-over pots a few times.

In the very next moment, the roof of Navers’s house started to shake and crumble, and then there was a burst of bright sunlight.

Missulena shrieked and dropped to the ground, all eight legs attempting to form a shield against the sunlight.

“No! Don’t!” Navers shouted, his paws were up and waving wildly at the ceiling.

“Hello! I’m sorry I’m late!” Fennick said. His long orange snout was almost as large as Navers’s entire house.

“Fennick, Fennick! I’ve told you repeatedly not to lift up the log!” Navers cried.

“Arghhh!” Crem cried out. He picked up his crushed purple hat off the ground. “I knew he would do it again!”

Fennick’s velvety ears folded down against the back of his head, and his yellow eyes glistened with blooming tears.

“I’m sorry! I forgot! I’ll put it back,” he said.
“Wait!” Navers tried.

The roof came crashing back down, raining debris down on their heads. Crem grabbed a pot and put it on his head.

A scratch at the door.

“Come in,” Navers sighed. He dusted dirt off his head.

The circular green door scooted open, and Fennick’s nose poked through. “I brought my banjo,” he said, filling the room with his voice.

“Alright, we’ll meet you outside,” Navers said, gathering his notepad and flute.
The band brushed the dirt, leaves, and other detritus off their heads and followed Navers out through the door.

“White Oak Way and Hemlock Pond,
Old Bark Row and Faerie Frond,
Lovely to have you and hoping you’ll stay.
Sycamore, Beech, Cherry, and Bay.
Admire the swaying blue cow’s coin.
Our home is your home, you’re welcome to join.
From the settlers of yesteryear, to the newest bairn,
We make our way in this magical place,
Here’s hoping you’ll love it as well.”

Navers ended the song, panting. Then, he played a solemn note on his flute to demonstrate that the song had ended.

The gang just stared at him.

“I made some changes,” Navers said, rubbing the fur on the back of his neck.

“The last part doesn’t rhyme,” Fennick said cautiously. Navers had just accepted him back into the band, so he didn’t want to ruffle his fur.

“It doesn’t have to rhyme, it’s the final message,” Navers said, sounding unsure.

They looked around at each other. Ernst shrugged. “Well, let’s try it,” he said.

“Great! And a one and a two and a three!” Navers squeaked.
Everyone was silent.

“Hello? I said a-three!” Navers tried, but the gang didn’t respond.

“Do you feel that?” Ernst said.

“Feel what?” Navers replied.

“The ground is shaking,” Ernst twisted his head around in all directions and then lifted off into the air with a puff of gray and brown feathers.

“Where is he going?” Navers hollered.

Suddenly, they were cast into shadow. They looked up.

A human man looked down at them. His head seemed impossibly large and high above them.

“He’s as tall as the trees,” Crem said in wonder.

Missulena retreated to a hiding place beneath the leaves without a word.

“Are they all that big?” Crem asked. “I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“Who is it?” Franlin asked, his blind eyes squinting around at them.

“It’s the neighbor! He’s here early!” Navers said, rubbing frantic paws over his ears. “He rarely comes out this way before supper time!”

The man looked down, his mouth hanging open, eyes wide with amazement. “Rilna!” the man called over his shoulder to the cottage behind him.

“What is it?” A distant voice said.

“Bring Alec out here. You must see this!” The man looked back down.

“P-play!” Navers yelled, clapping a hand on Franlin’s back.

Franlin put the mouthpiece of his trumpet to his lips, played an awkward bark of a note, and then gave up. Fennick was curled up, ears flat, too nervous to make a move. He silently shook his head at Navers. Crem had snapped his twig fiddle in half in a moment of terror.

The ground trembled as the human woman walked up. She was guiding a small child by the hand.

“What is it,” she said in a husky, pleasant voice.

“There’s a fox here. Look, he’s so docile,” the man said.

“Oh, how beautiful!” she said, kneeling down and drawing her son towards her.

They remained a few feet away. “Look at his fur,” she said, pointing towards Fennick.

Fennick’s ears perked up, and he beamed at the others.

“Look, Alec, a fox,” she said.

“A fox!” the child said, giggling. “He looks fuzzy.”

“A what? What’s that they’re saying?” asked Fennick.

Navers shrugged.

“I’ve never seen something like this before,” the man said, kneeling down slowly. His knee crunched in the dry brown leaves a foot away from the tiny bandmates.

“What is it?” Rilna said.

“There’s a chipmunk just sitting there next to him. And–ha!” the man laughed and put his hand over his mouth. “There’s a frog and some kind of mole here, too.”

“Let me see,” Rilna said, pulling Alec with her. “Look at the animals, darling,” she cooed to the child, pointing again.

“Oh!” The child said, pointing at Franlin’s bare, shriveled skin. “Where’s his fur? He looks naked.”

That’s just how they’re born, dearest. I think they’re also blind. Is that right, Hundar?”

“I believe so,” Hundar replied. “But I didn’t think they lived on this continent. Maybe he’s sick.”

“Well, I never in my life! How dare she!” Franlin wailed.

“Don’t listen to them, Fran,” Crem said.

“Take me inside!” Franlin demanded. He started stomping away in the wrong direction, his nose in the air.

A flute sounded.

“White Oak Way and Hemlock Pond,
Old Bark Row and Faerie Frond…”

Navers, in a panic, had started the song.

“The chipmunk is squealing, Hundar. Do you think he’s in pain?” Rilna said.

“He’s probably frightened. Let’s move away from them now so we don’t scare them,” Hundar said, standing up and taking Alec’s other hand.

“He’s singing!” Alec said delightedly, resisting the pull of his parents trying to take him away.

“Yes, darling,” Rilna chuckled.

“Old bark row and fairy pond!” Alec sang out.

Rilna looked at him, puzzled.

Alec looked at Navers and smiled.

“He liked the song,” Navers said dreamily.

Rilna gently led Alec away, but Navers could hear the child singing all the way back to the cottage.

Fennick, Navers, and even Crem started cheering and shaking hands, congratulating each other on a job well done. Missulena appeared, escorting Franlin back to the rest of the group. Ernst swooped down and landed amongst them.

“All together now!” Navers cried out.

The gang sang what words they could remember and played their instruments all night long, happy to have gained new friends and neighbors with their fine singing and musical talents.