With the breeze caressing her gold-wrought hair,
Little-One lay on a leaf without a care,
And watched the world go passing by,
Until one day the breeze asked her why;
'Why do you laze so, O Winged Fair?
I would not tarry long here to play with your hair.
For Old Man Winter will come soon
And touch with Frost, every leaf under the Moon.
Whither then from him will you hide?
Hoping for a home and a seat by the fireside!'
Fluttering her wings, the Pixie began;
'Oh! But too tired now I am,
From singing and laughing and stealing cherries.
Why work? Life is for making merry.
And Old Man Winter can catch me not.
My wings are too fast for his frost.
And what fear have I of a snowflake?
With one warm breath I can blow it away.
'Sadly the Wind shook her head,
Lifting the Pixie , she then said;
'Oh! But one snowflake makes not Winter's lot.
What will you eat when there be naught?
'Vainly , the Pixie tossed her hair,
And then put on a very mature air.
'Apples and dew and lots of cherries,
Flowers' nectar and sweet wild berries.
All these I will eat and drink.
Worry not much O Autumn Wind.
Diddley-Do-Dee and Fee-Fo-Vouse,
When winter comes I will make a house.
'And there she is still a lying,
Singing her nonsense little joyous rhymes.
And if Little One by chance you meet,
Do not forget to tell her this:
That in the Woods soon Winter will roam.
When life be hard, she will need a home.
Though most likely she will make a face,
And flit away to another place,
Where there be none who scold,
Our Little One vain and bold.
OK! OK! Before you say anything, here are my excuses: First of all, the poem. Sometime ago I was going through my crumbling copies of Miss Blyton’s bedtime story books. Such books, if you will recall, are full poems without any meaning and may not even rhyme much, but they surely are catchy and fun. That evening, when I was supposed to be studying, I wrote up a poem about Little-One, a pixie (I definitely must have picked up that name from those books. They are full of zany characters with names like Little-One, Cup-Daisy, Bobo Golliwog and what not!). I finished it in 15 minutes, the time my parents had gone out for their evening walk. I hastily completed it with whatever word that came into my mind for only the sake of finishing it. I thought that I would edit and “beautify” it later. No bucks for guessing… the much touted “later” never came. About the picture; this is Little-One, the pixie. I drew it around the time I first saw elfwood.com. When I saw this site, I knew that I would want to be a part of it. As a result, this work was done. Why did I draw her? Come on, any fantasy artist worth his/her salt has to draw acute semi-naked pixie/fairy posing for the camera. I have to respect tradition! (Please take no offence. I am only joking.) I have tried to keep the sketch simple and give it a faded evanescent quality. But somehow this picture fails to please me. I pride myself in the fact that though my artworks may not be skillfully done or generally “good” they possess a certain inexplicable beauty (at least I think so). This picture lacks that. I am sorry Little-One. Do not worry, other pictures will follow. And you will be beautiful. I now have decided not to draw pictures without full backgrounds or with subjects looking like they are posing for the camera. Now a bit about Pixies. Pixies are among the smallest of the magic folks. The tallest among them may give competition to a Barbie doll. They were the ones with wings like butterflies. Let us not confuse them with Fairies (oh yes! Faeries). Fairies were slightly smaller than elves and even more delicate. They had small wings of feathers (they couldn’t exactly fly, rather they could hover in the air a bit. Their wings were not at all powerful) and preferred living around streams, meadows, hill slopes, almost always near an elf community. Fairies were completely dependant on elves. They did not even have their own language and spoke lesser Elvish (usually the regional dialect of Intyer). She, who created all, created them in a happy thought. Fairies were the most joyous but also the most vulnerable of her children. But more about the fairies later. About the origin of pixies; as the story goes, the goddess Gaelea (Higher elvish or Eltinyer name; Eta Silumin) created a garden for herself in the valley of Vilverdin (butterflies). It was a most beautiful garden. Big flowers with all the colours of the rainbow, the cool breeze laden with their delicate soft fragrances, a hazy soft sun, slight fog and most beautiful of all, the butterflies, with beauty beyond imagination. It was the place where beauty and splendor were at their loftiest. One day the goddess left for paradise to be with her lover Oris, leaving the garden in the care of her faithful nightingales. Soon a wandering band of Talking-creatures (it is not exactly known, to which race they belonged. But they most probably were dwarves) reached the Garden. Seeing so beautiful a place, they decided to stay there. Finding nothing that grew to eat, they killed the nightingales and ate their flesh. Over a period, they captured all butterflies and cut off their wings, which glittered like priceless jewels. The beautiful Garden was no more. One nightingale, which had managed to save itself, reached Gaelea and informed her of the desecration of her Garden. Hearing it, the goddess burned in a rage and cursed the plunderers; “Elviren Se Q’uinata, Mel Uinata Se Vishi” (In the language of the gods, meaning; “Be What You Ruined, May The Ruins Be Your Prison”) The defilers changed into butterflies like beings with wings as beautiful as those they had cut off., unable to go out of the confines of the Garden forever. Ages later, the party of Astraze found them and taking pity on the pixies, begged Gaelea to forgive the Pixies of her wrath. Mellowed and softened by the prayers of elves and the son of Dion (about Fire, the son of Dion, we will talk later), Gaelea pardoned the Pixies and said that though they would hold the form forever, the Garden would no longer be their prison. Those creatures would give birth to an entire new race. Even in her wrath, the splendor and beauty of Gaelea was revealed. Thus was born the race of Pixies. And down the years was born Little-One.