Trowalina:
Part One
By: Kitty E.
Once upon a time there was a kindly, but fairly unattractive old woman who lived alone in the woods. She lived a quiet life as a seamstress, never wanting for food, or warmth, but as time wore on she began to feel quite lonely. She soon found herself longing day and night for a child to call her own, someone to keep her company in her old age.
As I said, she was fairly unattractive, and so was unable to find a
husband, or indeed a one night stand with whom she might conceive a
child. Deep in despair, and without any other hope, she wished upon a
star for a daughter. As luck would have it, her plea did not fall
upon deaf ears. The Fairy Queen was flying through the old woman's
garden, and happened by the open window as she made her wish. Now the
Fairy Queen Une wasn't such a bad person as some would tell you, but
then I suppose it just depends on what day you catch her on. As it
was, the Queen decided to help this old woman � for a price of
course.
That night as the woman dreamt of a daughter with laughing green
eyes, and chestnut curls she could style to her heart's content, the
Fairy Queen left her a gift. The next day she awoke to find a strange
seed, and tiny note upon her night stand. After much squinting, and a
little improvisation involving a shot glass, (well, she did live
alone) she was able to read the note. 'Plant this seed in the snow on
the shortest day of the year, and in the spring you shall have a wee
daughter. In return, I only ask that you marry her to my son.'
The old woman looked at the seed, tears of joy blurring her vision,
and agreed immediately. She put her mark upon the note and sealed the
contract. She did as the note said, waiting impatiently for the
winter solstice, or rather the day she thought was the winter
solstice, and planted the seed in her garden.
Through the winter months a rose bush grew, lush and green, but only
producing one bud. In the spring, just as the Fairy Queen had
promised, the rose bloomed producing a daughter the size of a human
thumb. She named her Thumbalina, proving she was not only fairly
unattractive, but fairly unimaginative as well. They got along very
well, for Thumbalina had no quarrel about helping with the chores, or
listening to the increasingly senile old woman's stories. She was a
model daughter except for the fact she did not grow. She remained the
size of a thumb her entire life, which made things difficult to say
the least.
One day Thumbalina was sweeping the floor, a monumental task for a
girl her size, when the old woman came in with a great bundle of
cloth that obscured her view completely. It's a small consolation
that the wee girl died quickly, never realizing the supreme irony of
being stepped on by the woman who loved her so dearly.
"Oh, shit!" the woman cried in grief. (And if you thought that was
inappropriate shouldn't you have stopped reading when Thumbalina got
squished?) "What am I going to do now? I'm all alone again!" She
collapsed, and began to weep bitterly. Suddenly, an awful thought
struck her. "Oh, shit!" she exclaimed again, this time in dread. "If
I don't repay my debt with my daughter's hand in marriage the Fairy
Queen shall have my thumbs broken."
"I could keep you company," came a soft, deep voice. "And do
whatever I can to try and help you with this debt."
The old woman looked all around her one room cottage and saw no one.
"Who- who's there?" she asked hesitantly. Oh my, I think I've gone
mad.
A very, very, very, *very* small boy emerged from a forgotten
corner. He was quite handsome with the same chestnut hair, and green
eyes as the recently departed Thumbalina. Despite his size, he
appeared to be about fifteen.
"Who are you?" she asked, truly confused.
"Nanashi," the boy replied with a shrug, as he began to the trek
across the floor to where the old woman still knelt.
"Nanashi?"
"Hai, you never gave me a name," he replied neutrally, still
shouting a bit as he was only half way across the room.
"Why should I have given you a name?" she asked, still quite
confused.
"The rosebush bloomed twice, and so you had two children, only you
never took much notice of me."
"Sorry ... but I was promised only one child, and I- I wasn't
expecting another," she stammered. She was beginning to think perhaps
confusion was her normal state as she held out her hand to the wee
boy.
"Magic plants can be unpredictable, especially when you don't follow
instructions," he said as he climbed carefully into her palm.
"So you want to help me, Nanashi?" the old woman asked, still a
little lost. How could she have had two children and never noticed?
Then again, he wasn't much bigger than Thumbalina, and she had
*stepped* on her.
"I don't see why I shouldn't. Anou � Mother?" He said the word as
though it were a foreign idea, but one he was determined to grasp.
"Yes?" she asked, lifting him to her ear to better hear his request.
"Could you give me a name? Nanashi leaves much to be desired."
As I said, the woman was rather unimaginative, and so she struggled
for a long moment before finally saying, "Well, how about Thumbalina."
Nanashi's small brow lifted, and his small lips pursed in a subtle
frown, "I don't think that'd be a good name for me."
"Why?"
"It's clear that I am an entire *index finger* tall."
"Oh," the little woman said, frowning as she tried again. "Jarvis?"
Trowa shook his tiny head, and crossed his arms.
"Cornelius?" she asked, after another moment of thought.
"No," he said flatly.
This went on for several hours. The woman was beginning to
understand why people named their children at birth ... there was
less arguing. Soon the morning passed, as did midday, and the
afternoon waned into evening.
"I know!" she exclaimed somewhat forcefully. "Trowalina. Trowa means
two in French, and you're my second child," she suggested, hoping to
impress this strange, and entirely too picky boy with her culture.
"Anou, Mother. Trowa doesn't mean-"
"Believe me, I don't care," she said menacingly, waggling one
gnarled finger at him.
"Ah," he said, indifferently. He hopped down from her hand, executed
a triple somersault apparently just for fun, and landed on the floor
at his mother's feet.
"By the way, Trowalina, could you finish sweeping the floor?" the
old woman asked, moving to her cabinet for some brandy. The day had
simply been too strange for her to face the rest of it sober.
"Hai," he said, hiding a frown as he picked up Thumbalina's tiny
broom. I should have stayed in the corner.
The old woman did not find quite such a wonderful companion in
Trowalina it must be said. The boy was far too independent, far too
quiet for her tastes. He certainly didn't seem to get the same kick
out of tedious chores as her previous child, and sometimes she
wondered if he was even awake as she told her stories. Soon
Trowalina's sixteenth birthday came, and the old woman knew that the
Fairy Prince would soon be coming for his bride. She doubted that
either the Prince, or the Fairy Queen would be pleased with the
little switch she had been forced to pull. I wonder if I could get
him to wear a dress? she thought fretfully. She waited each day
with baited breath, until finally, one moonlit night, the Prince came
for Thumbalina.
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Part Two