wytchcroft

Quickly the two children darted forward and toward the light, they could hear a sort of frantic moaning coming from the glow ahead of them. As they got close they were astonished by what they could see. Another faery, of course, but what a faery! A fiery faery!

Were those legs or wheels turning furiously on the spot? Fred and Sue could not be sure. Were those ribs and a chest puffing in and out – or a bellows and cogs? One moment it seemed like flesh (albeit shiny faery flesh) and the next moment the creature appeared to be made of metal and smoke. And the hair! Well, the hair was really the problem, shooting out from the spirit child’s head and curling and whirling about like so much steam, it made the children cough; Worse though it tangled itself in the bushes and trees like so much smoky rope, refusing to dissipate.

“Help! Help!” sang out the little faery voice. “I’m all caught up and the Earl is close behind and me and he’s annoyed extra special with me - I swallowed one of his toys, hee, hee, hee! I mean, oops! I mean, HELP!”

part one

Once upon a time, it was believed that the deep places of the earth held both magic and mystery and that among the unscientific shadows dwelt all manner of faerie-folk, elves, spirits, animals and half forgotten figures from dreams.

It was during such a time that, in the little kingdom of Oritania two children were born and raised, laughing and playing out their years. A boy and girl; Chuffcuffchippinapapapalollagrumia (hereafter known as Fred) and his sister Califorbiplataparisianfrizianisianisntshewellidon'tknow (I think we better just call her Sue).

Together these two children lived in a small town house in the tumbling town of Tuttenham. The Tumbling Town (or Tumble Town) was so called because it so often fell down in a heap after rolling the length of the great mountain upon which it was somewhat foolishly founded; several times in its history the towns denizens had been rudely awoken by a sound akin to the hard grinding of teeth only to find themselves with their heads poking up from a mess of rubble. "Hey ho" they would sigh and the gathering together begin the arduous process of picking up al the bricks and bric-a-brac and marching back up the hill to put their town back.
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This story was told to a group of very young children.

Part one: In which there isn't a spider or a king - but there are goats, that's something at least!

Young Peter was known as the scourge of the territories, the worst thief and burglar to ride the four winds, sail the seven seas and walk the nine realms. Yes indeed, he was known as such and called as much – “Have you heard?” people would mutter, “Why that is young Peter, the worst thief and burglar to ride the four winds, sail the seven seas and walk the nine realms.” And a call would be passed along, “Quickly, quickly, lock all your doors and bar your windows! Keep your lanterns bright, for here is young Peter, the scourge of the territories, the worst thief and burglar to ride the four winds, sail the seven seas and walk the nine realms!”
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