Critique Wanted: Fairy Frogmother (fractured fairy tale)

5000 words   Fairy Frogmother  By  Charlotte Henley Babb

      "Just once," she muttered, "I wish a handsome prince would notice ME." No sooner thought than said, no sooner said than one prince, handsome as requested, appeared, galloping frantically. He was headed right for Maven, as hard as he could ride. He was certainly not, what she had been thinking.

      "Get out of the way, Old One," he yelled. "Move it!"

      His horse's hooves scattered dirt and leaf mold in its wake. Maven could see the foam on the horse's neck as she reached for her wand and snapped it towards the Prince.

      Maven's wand arced, sending a hex to turn the hapless prince into a frog. There was plenty of energy for that spell in her anger alone. The green sparkles nearly blinded her as the horse reared and shied away, his rider struggling to hang on. Her magic encountered a warding spell, and the shockwave knocked Maven off her feet. Rumbling hoof beats on the road urged her to scramble out of the way, but instead of running, Maven...leapt! She narrowly escaped being trampled by five horsemen hastening after the prince. 

      Her heart pounded for a few seconds before she realized how low she lay to the ground and how wet her skin was. Reaching up to feel her face, she saw her hand had become a pale green palm four webbed fingers. She felt for her wings, which were still anchored behind her shoulder blades, but her gossamer dress had disappeared, as had her hair.

      Maven had turned herself into a frog.

      Croaking expletives, Maven searched for her wand. It lay miraculously unbroken in the roadway, now longer than her whole body. She grasped it with eight tiny fingers, braced the handle against the dusty road, and swung with all her weight, mumbling the spell through her body-wide mouth. The magic showered down, but nothing happened. At least, she still had some magic. Maven dragged the wand out of the dust, which was fast drying on her skin. She could smell water, only a few leaps away. She crawled through the leaf mold, learning that webbed feet were not designed for walking. Finally reaching the creek, she plopped in to re-slime her skin. 

      She needed backup. It wasn't going to be pretty, but she might as well face it now.

      A soggy Maven landed on the desk of Fiona the Merciful, Fairy Godmother Superior, who was scribbling arcane notes in her ledger. Fiona's silver hair was tarnished; her wings trailed dusty cobwebs. Maven sympathized. How did Fiona manage to deal with magic disasters through the centuries? Maven specifically did not wish to find out.

      Fiona glanced up, glaring at the interruption without appointment. Her eyes met Maven's. Her mouth began to twitch: she snickered, and then she laughed until dust and cobwebs went flying.

      "Can't change yourself back, I take it," she said, wiping her tears. "Serves you right, Maven. How many people have you turned into frogs this cycle?"

      Maven dripped silently. 

      Fiona pulled her crystal ball from the desk drawer and called up Maven's files. She giggled, the cackle of a crone overlaid with the snigger of a teenage girl who had finally gotten the best of a rival. "This prince appears to wear a ward stone from the head of a frog. Your spell interacted with that one, and it was enforced by a covering counter spell. Someone wants him well protected. I don't suppose you know who he is or what he was ...?"

      "All I can remember is nearly being trampled."

      "You wished him there. We have discussed your childish habit of speaking aloud before. Now do you see what kinds of difficulty it can cause, even if you do not intend to grant yourself a wish? Do you see why it is not done?"

      Sometimes the only correct answer is "Yes, Ma'am" no matter how hard it is to say.

      Fiona ran the scenario again, magnified, in slow motion. "I surmise this prince to be the son of Tarryn, one of your predecessors. She disappeared when the Castle of Neauwae was destroyed, right after you came to work here. Possibly into a forest kingdom on the lower east side of Faery—near where you were. He appears to be the right age."

      Maven was glad to hear that. The vanishing of Castle Neauwae was the one disaster that had not been blamed on her, at least not directly.

      "Only Tarryn can undo this spell. Her magic is as strong as yours is—and just as unconventional. I hope your gift for blarney will help you there." Fiona raised her eyebrow in a significant glare before consulting her ledger. "You're slated for counseling on Fairy Godmother burnout next cycle. Perhaps you can find Tarryn and persuade her to accompany you."

      "Oh yes!" Maven simpered. "I'll just hop into her keep and say, 'How 'bout a makeover for me, your Highness, and we'll just meander back home for a little head shrink after.' I'm sure she'll be all for it." She missed having eyebrows to glare under.

      Fiona returned the glare with a nasty smile. "You might start with the prince and find out why he's running. In the meantime, answer any wishes which originate in Frogdom."

      "I can't grant wishes like this. I can barely lift my wand."

      "You are neither ill nor without magic. And you ARE on the payroll. Do your best. I shall keep an eye on you." Before Maven could answer, Fiona returned her with a splash to the boggy creek. 

      At once more pressing matters grabbed Maven's attention. A large group of frogs converged on her, more frogs than she had ever seen: green and yellow frogs, some with red eyes, some with spots, some with tattered webs on their feet, others swelling out their throats to belch their complaints. Big frogs, tiny frogs, even a toad, or two, all hopping, leaping, crawling towards her. All angry and croaking loud enough to deafen a giant. Maven tried to remember if frogs ate each other, but found her amphibian lore sorely lacking.

      In a moment, she was surrounded. Then the yelling started.

      "Change me back!" "Me, too!" "It's about time we frogs had somebody to grant our wishes!" Each frog had a wish, and most of them involved transformation to human form.

      Maven held up her wand, trying to listen to all of them or any of them to get some idea of why they had all appeared just then, what they wanted, and what she could do about it. Fiona did not like coincidences, so she did not likely cause this plague. The main thread she could hear among all the croaking and wailing was that these were not true frogs, but women who had been transformed. They were very tired of being green.

      Maven strained again to grasp the wand and prepared to jump, hoping that if she could hang on to the wand in midair, it would wave enough to cover at least a few of them. Her hands began to cramp, clutching the shaft as she straddled the grip. She fluttered her wings as much as she could, but it didn't help much.

      She vaulted, ribbeting every canceling spell she could think of. Landing in water, still clutching her wand, she kicked her way to a launching surface and tried again, this time aiming for the creek bank. On the third try, the one that did not break the charm, Maven established that if a frog had wings, it would still bump its butt. Curses were muttered in the frog chorus, imprecations of doom, death, disease and disfigurement against both Maven and a Queen Tarryn. 

      But one voice, very small, seemed to have a different request. Maven sought its source as she rested from her futile spelling.

      "Please, will you help me?" asked a small frog with large, emerald green eyes. "All these frogs are real women, and they talk all the time about how wonderful it is to be human. I wish I was a human. Can you make me human?"

      Fiona had told her to answer requests. "It's worth a try, little one." Maven bounded once more, croaking a general spell of mutation from frog to human. Only one woman appeared: a long-legged siren with emerald eyes and long, webbed fingers. Maven formed a dress from the mud on her skin.

      The frog chorus shut up, amazed at the success of the transformation.

      "You really are my fairy frogmother!" the woman said. "You granted my wish!"

      "That's what I do, Honey. What's your name?"

      "I am Medori. Do you think the prince would like me?"

      "What do you know about a prince?"

      "They have to follow him since they got turned into frogs. They have to get something from him to go back to being women. Do you think he would like me?"

      Maven saw the seed of an idea. "You know how it is with magic," she said. "You'll have to get him to love you even when you are a frog. It might be best to find him first, then tell him the truth."

      Murmurs came from the bog. "Why can't you free us?" "She's just a frog--I am a real princess." "You are NOT--you're a diary maid!" "Whoever heard of a fairy frogmother?"

      "Ladies, er--amphibians, calm yourselves," Maven croaked. "I've already tried my spells. I can't undo someone else's magic. Maybe if you fill me in on this Queen you are cursing and her prince, I can get her to change you back."

      The forest echoed with the hoots and sneers of the frogs. But as the night faded into predawn, Maven gathered the elements of a plan. Any female within five feet of Prince Erwyn, only son of Queen Tarryn, became short, green, and slimy. Most of them were caught in the moat around the castle, which was surrounded by a magical desert to prevent their escape. The Queen evidently liked their singing.

      These woodland frogs, however, were mostly maidens who ventured, unknowingly or purposefully, too near the prince as he fled the Queen's magic.

      Unfortunately for them as frogs, they were drawn to him like flies to roadkill. Even as they told their stories, they moved through the forest to find him. At dawn, he was discovered sleeping on a bedroll covered with a cloak, his horse tethered nearby.

      Maven hopped forward, telling Medori to stay hidden. She shushed the frogs, making the forest dawn suddenly quiet.

      The prince sat up, startled. He stared into the dark, seeing only dozens of pairs of bulging eyes. His escape was cut off by frogs on all sides. 

      "I hate frogs," he said mournfully. "I know you can't help it, but please, just leave me alone."

      "We'd love to, your Highness," Maven said, "but we need your assistance. That stone you wear causes all this havoc. If you could remove it..."

      "Only my mother can take it off," he said, "or a woman who is not affected by the spell." He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and studied Maven with her wand. "And you cannot use your counter spells either, Witch frog, but go ahead and try; you magical folk are all stubborn. How well I know."

      In magic, the rules must be followed, but only to the letter. The worker sets her own intent. Maven pretended to try disenchanting the prince, but instead laid a protection spell on Medori and glamour to hide her true form. Not a sparkle nor a flash came from her wand. 

      "Can I go now?" He got up and packed his small camp, jerking his bedroll from beneath the frogs that had climbed aboard. "I really can't help you. I have my own problems.

      "We can't stop you," Maven said. "Your Highness, I entreat you, take me back to your mother and let me reason with her to free all these maidens."

      "Might as well reason with a dragon for its hoard," the prince said. "It is useless anyway. If I do not find a bride by sunset today, I never will. It is my twenty-first birthday; her magic dooms me at sunset to be her child forever, never to marry, and never to be my own man."

      Maven motioned to Medori, who stepped forward, kneeling at the prince's feet. She said nothing but gazed up into his eyes, smiling demurely.

      The prince backed away. "No, stop, you'll be...."

      But Medori, of course, did not change. Maven expected a spark betwixt her magic shielding and his, but the strength of it surprised her, as did the other spark between the two.

      The prince took Medori's hand and brought her to her feet, only barely restraining himself from stealing a kiss. They gazed at each other, each taking in the beauty of a human form they had never beheld at such range. Even the other frogs sighed.

      Maven felt a pang of envy for that look. She was much too old for that sort of carrying on—-she hadn't had a boyfriend before she came across the Wall from Real, and certainly not since she became a Fairy Godmother. It wasn't done.

      "How can you?" he asked, holding her hand and gazing on her every curve. He had never seen a young woman so close before, never looked so deeply into a woman's eyes. But he was a prince, strong of purpose and decisive. "I am Erwyn, prince of Lesser Eastalia. If you will have me, I will have you as my bride."

      "Yes, my prince."

      The first rays of the sun sparkled in her eyes and shone like iridescence on her white blonde hair as well as a bit on her pale skin.

      Maven croaked to get their attention. "Perhaps we should go to your mother first, then have the wedding," she suggested.

      "For her sake," he said to Maven, "I will take you to plead for these others. But only you, as I cannot abide these creatures." He glanced around, shuddering.

      He handed Medori a saddlebag, touching her hand for a long second. "Make a safe place for the witchfrog, for we must cross a great desert to reach my mother's castle. You must wear my cloak to shield you both from the sun."

      Medori lined the saddlebag with dripping moss from the creek bank while Maven concocted a spell to keep them both cool inside the cloak; two steamed frogs would not be able to save the day. She told Medori how to pick up her wand without touching it, and they got it stashed, although it was bent a little in the saddlebag.

      Erwyn took Medori's hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed her palm. He never noticed the thin webs between her fingers. Then he lifted her into the saddle.

      "To pledge my troth to you, I will give you the magic stone," Erwyn said, "but you must take it off."

      Medori leaned over, kissed his cheek softly. She lifted the leather thong from around his neck and placed it around her neck. 

      "No," Maven cried from inside the bag, "the magic...!" Too late. The stone glowed briefly, transferring the protecting spell to Medori and adding the prince to the amphibian multitude. The frogs cheered as Erwyn shook his head and blinked, hopping awkwardly away from his horse's hoof. 

      "My Prince," Medori cried. She jumped down from the saddle and picked him up. "Fairy Frogmother help him!" 

      "Let me out!" Maven said. "I can't work from in here." 

Medori let Maven out of the bag.

      Maven perched on the horse's rump. She put a short term spell of calmness on the horse to keep it still while she tried again to transform Erwyn, to no avail He was as thoroughly ensorcelled as Maven and the other frogs.

      Medori lifted Erwyn to the saddlebag, and then helped Maven back in, gingerly bending Maven's wand while holding it between two pieces of moss to get it to fit in. When the frogs were settled, she climbed back up on the horse, not an easy task for a frog who has been a woman for only a couple of hours. Of course, she didn't know how to ride. She squirmed on the saddle to find a comfortable seat.

      The horse just stood calmly, but the spell would wear off in only a few minutes.

      Maven wondered if the horse had enough sense just to go home on his own. She tried to concoct a spell to make him go. From what she heard through her wand, this horse had never been to the Queen's kingdom, but had been traded for the prince's steed to help disguise him. While she listened and tried to work on a plan, she heard a commotion in the woods. 

      A voice cried out nearby, "There he is! Surround him, men!" The queen's horsemen surrounded the figure in the prince's cloak. Maven cast a glamourie to disguise Medori as the prince. The horsemen dashed to the prince's side, scattering his green retinue.

      "You must return with us, your Highness," said the captain of the riders. He was an older man who appeared strong but tired of the long chase. "Today is the day you must face the Queen, with a bride or without."

      Medori said nothing, but the Prince croaked from the bag, "I will return, but I am fatigued from this long journey, and weak from lack of sleep and food. Please lead my horse back home."

      "With my own hand, your Highness," said the captain. 

      The horsemen picked their way through the forest, leaving behind the group of frogs who were unable to keep up. The frogs croaked sadly in the distance as the men came to the main road. They urged their horses to run as fast as they could until they reached a broad meadow. Morning passed and afternoon came before the men stopped to rest the horses and give them drink. Jolting and bruised, Maven, Erwyn, and Medori kept silent and sweated.

      The captain of the horsemen brought Medori a canteen of water. She took it without a word and nearly drained it, gulping the water almost in one swallow. Then she poured the rest into the saddlebag. She handed it back to the captain, who stared at her pale hand. 

      Inside the saddlebag, Maven and Erwyn wriggled into the moss, trying to stay wet.

      "Do you have a plan?" Erwin asked. He looked sadder than ever, his large eyes pale in the darkness. "She won't listen to reason."

      "If she wants her son back," Maven said, "she'll have to reverse the spell. I expect she wants you back and not as a frog." At least, she hoped that was the case. And she hoped that Erwyn would not hurt Medori's feelings when he realized what she was. Any bride would be better than his mom.

* * *

       When everyone had been given water, the Queen's men started out across a dry plain, barren of plants as far as the eye could see. It was not just a desert, for there is life in the desert. This was scourged land, scraped dry of topsoil, its rock exposed to the sun, and relieved nowhere by a breeze or trickle of water. Magical wards protected the Queen's realm as well. Erwyn told Maven he had only managed to get away by facing the very depths of his personal fears, hoping that they were merely illusions instead of solid manifestations of monsters and miasma. Still, he looked worse than green.

       Maven listened to all the stories of the horsemen. They seemed to be under glamour as well, both to find Erwyn and to return him to the Queen. They were afraid of their Queen, too afraid to return without their quarry, too afraid not to return. That kind of power over took a lot of energy. Maven wondered how the Queen managed to channel it.

       Medori was not dealing well with the heat, although the spell under the cloak was helping. She was too warm, and sore from riding. There wasn't a lot Maven could do for her. The protective wards seemed to have little effect on Medori emotionally, however, as she had little imagination, still being mostly frog, and untravelled. As near as Maven could tell, Medori only had the heat to deal with, no hallucinations to engage her fears.

       Maven and Erwyn weren't doing nearly as well. They were wet, but they were nearly parboiled. Erwyn kept twitching, closing his eyes and moaning to himself. Images of snakes slithered through Maven's mind—-she knew that some snakes ate frogs. She decided to try imagining cool pools of shining water, dappled in shade and sunshine. The harder she worked at her imagery, the less afraid and more comfortable she became. That was her answer.

       Fear was the Queen's energy source. Fear and loathing and any other emotion that being locked in a frog's body might engender. Power over her victims fueled by the fear of the power—-Tarryn used the oldest trick in the book. Keep enough people afraid long enough, and she'd have energy and to spare.

      Maven hoped they would reach the castle well before sunset, as she had a lot of spell casting to do and no room to do it. She was pretty sure what Tarryn was afraid of, and she hoped she could channel the very energy Tarryn had gathered.

* * *

       By the time they reached Queen Tarryn's castle, all the horses had slowed to a walk. Maven could hear their hooves clattering on the drawbridge as the party crossed the moat while hundreds of frog voices echoed in chorus, cries of longing and sadness, anger and fear. It would be plenty of energy to keep Tarryn's spells going.

       The party stopped. The captain assisted Medori from the horse, thinking that his prince was weary and weak from the heat. Maven's glamourie had faded in the face of Tarryn's magic. But the captain said nothing. Medori retrieved the two frogs and Maven's wand, which she wrapped in the sleeve of her dress. She pushed back the cloak from her shoulders and carried the Maven and Erwyn before her, as if she were presenting them as gifts. They walked into the main hall, escorted by the captain.

       Inside Queen Tarryn's castle, the setting sun sent shafts of golden light into the great hall from just above the treetops

      The queen rushed out to meet her son, her graying hair in a long tangle down her back, her face hollow, and her eyes sunken and dark. She froze in horror when she saw that Medori wore her son's cloak and the amulet. 

      "I have found a bride, Mother," Prince Erwyn croaked, having regained some composure once inside the castle. He hopped out of Medori's hand to land—splat—on the stones at his mother's feet. "Change me back!"

      "Who dares to transmute my magic?" Her voice silenced the hall. The golden sunlight began to redden.

      "Magic kept too long turns on itself," Maven said, "You may have your son as a short-lived frog, or you may let him live as he is meant to live. But you must choose now, for this day seals the spell." 

      "No woman shall have him!" the queen cried. She pulled her wand from the sleeve of her robe and sent the spell towards Medori, but as with Maven, it backlashed, shrinking her into amphibian fury. 

      "I am no woman," Medori said. She removed the stone and laid it at her feet. She motioned to Maven. "See my true form. I am sorry, my prince." 

      Maven removed her spell, shrinking Medori back to her small, green self.

      They sat in the shadows of the sunset, red light making banners that floated ever higher on the walls, four frogs facing fate.

      Erwyn edged closer to Medori. He looked into her eyes, still the same emerald shade, though much more prominent. "I never liked frogs," he said, "but now that I am one, I see how beautiful you are." He pulled himself up to his most regal stature—possibly four and a half inches. "I pledged my troth to you, and if you will have me, prince or frog, I will marry you."

      "Frogs need not marry," Medori peeped. "I am yours." They embraced.

      The shadows climbed the walls below the red sun banners as the sun began to set.

      "What do you want, Queen Tarryn?" Maven pulled together all the energy she could muster: the anger from Tarryn herself, the fears of the servants and the varied emotions of all the frog people, even the lust of Erwyn and Medori that might turn to love, given time.

      "Can you leave your son like this to keep your fantasy of youth? He will die, and you will die alone, with no child, no grandchildren, your only company these miserable frogs that weep and wail night after night."

      Tarryn gaped at Medori and Erwyn who had snuggled together with eyes only for each other. She did not speak.

      "Who will keep your kingdom?" Maven said, weaving the strongest image of weakness she could imagine to send to Tarryn.

      Tarryn's mistake was to keep all her magic focused on controlling others rather than on controlling herself. IT made her vulnerable.

      Maven sent the image of a lonely crone, languishing among the hordes of frogs. "What if you are caught in your own spells, unable to leave your castle, unable to keep up the wards that protect you?"

      Erwyn faced his mother with the voice of a man. "You have lost me, Mother; I will be myself now, in whatever form, whatever you decide." The sun shape of the window was now high overhead. Tarryn wobbled first toward Erwyn then toward Maven, her eyes twitching.

      "Love is stronger than magic, Tarryn," Maven said. "Love your son. Use the magic and set him free. Let him be happy. Let yourself be happy."

      Tarryn crawled to the touchstone, trembling. "It must be said in sunlight," she croaked. "Help me." She took one side of the necklace and Maven took the other, dropping her wand. Nodding agreement, they leapt to the window casement. It was high, but they scrambled up to the ledge, each holding on with every sucker of their small fingers. Holding the stone up between them, Tarryn led Maven in chanting the spell in the last rays of the sun. 

      Polychrome sparks flowed out of the stone, followed by screams and wails, shrieks of joy and moans of disgust. Every frog-maiden within a hundred leagues suddenly was human and naked and wet again, scrambling to get out, get dry, get away, get dressed. Except Tarryn, Medori and Maven.

      Prince Erwyn stooped to gaze at Medori as she sat by his feet. He looked deeply into her eyes once more, looking for the one he loved. He kissed her, that being another magic from another story. But when she did not transform, he continued stroking her head and back with his forefinger. He looked as lost as he had in the forest, but he held his face firm to face his future.

       Tarryn and Maven spoke together to transform Medori finally and fully into the woman she desired to be. She and Erwin embraced as the last light of the sun faded into the darkness of the forest.

      The full moon rose as the sun set and the damp dew fell. The magic desert disappeared in the darkening twilight as the moat spread its water out to meet the distant forests. It was a good night to be a frog, warm, wet, and full of life.

      "What about us?" Tarryn said. "Being a frog doesn't seem so bad."

      "You'll get tired of it soon enough." Maven said. "I'm too old to start being green." Maven hopped down from the window to retrieve her wand, not something to be left lying around for careless lovers to step on. When Tarryn followed, she dragged the amulet down from the window, shattering it on the castle floor. 

      "Get your wand, quickly," Maven said. "Let's grind this stone into dust, sprinkle ourselves with it, and maybe we can change each other back."

      Tarryn leapt to her wand and began to drag it towards Maven.

      Maven showed Tarryn how to ride the wand and leap into the air. They called in a tiny dust devil to swirl the broken pieces of the stone, magically grinding them into sparkling dust, which stuck to their skin. They said the transformation spell together and emerged fairies again, gossamered and winged.

      "What happens to rogue fairy godmothers?" Tarryn asked as she fluttered around the great hall. "I don't know that I want to go back to saving the youngest and goodliest from society and their erstwhile parents."

      "Fiona mentioned counseling, but the last time she 'counseled' me, I spent a couple of cycles living under a bridge as a troll."

      "Fiona's still in charge?" Tarryn made a face.

      Maven nodded. 

      "So much for that. I was on Restraint and ReEducation when I left. Don't you think we can find some good to do on our own?"

      "I know I've had enough of Cinderellas and Sleeping Beauties."

      "Let find some older women in distress."

      "Yeah, or some older men. The captain of the guard, perhaps."

      "He's married."

      "Figures."

      They flew out into the golden moonlight in search of adventure, leaving the Kingdom in the hands the Prince and his princess, and leaving Fiona to wonder what Maven might do next.

--THE END--