The windfairies, and other tales

by Mary De Morgan

When at last the instruments stopped and the listeners began to feel for money for the musician, he laughed and said, “You need not give me money, for I am very rich, and don’t need it. In return for my playing, I only ask for one recompense. Let any of your young folks who sing, sing me a song, for I too love hearing music that is not my own.” On this the villagers began to look round for all who could sing, and they chose out some three or four, and begged them to sing their very best to the wonderful musician. Among them was Othmar, but they all bid him wait to the last, as his would be the best. Whilst the others were singing, the little man did not seem to heed them much, though they tried hard to sing well, and chose their prettiest songs, but their voices sounded very rough and poor after the playing.

But when Othmar began he stopped twanging the fiddle-strings and watched him. Othmar’s voice rang out clear and sweet, and all the village folk felt proud of his singing, even after hearing the wonderful instruments. When he ceased the little man rose, and said—

“You have a sweet voice, my boy, be sure that you always use it well; and now I must be going my way, but as I am a stranger here, perhaps you would not mind setting me on my road, and showing me the best way over the hill.”

Othmar sprang up, delighted to go with him, but Hulda, who watched from behind, came up to him and whispered—

“Oh, Othmar, don’t let him take you far—come back soon.”

“How silly you are, Hulda!” said Othmar, almost angrily. “Of course I shall come back, but I shall go with him as far as he wants, and then, perhaps, he will let me hear him play again.”

Othmar and the little dwarf started with the mule laden with instruments, and Othmar led the way down the best road. The dwarf did not speak at all, and so they went on in silence till they had got on to the top of a high hill where they could see the country all round for miles, and the moon was beginning to rise. Here the musician stopped his mule, and stood for a while looking all round. Then he turned, and said to Othmar—“I know now where I am, and here will I stay for to-night, but first before you leave me, would you not like to hear my fiddles and horns again?”

“That I would,” cried Othmar, and he sat himself down on the ground delighted, while the little man unloaded the mule.

“And now,” he said to Othmar with a twisted smile, “you shall hear them play as no one has ever heard them. Yes, and you shall see them too;” then he laid them in rows—the fiddles first, and the viols, and then the horns and trumpets, and last the drums and cymbals and triangles, and clapped his hands, giving a long, shrill whistle. As he whistled, the instruments rose from the ground, and they began to swell, and their shapes to change till no longer did they look like musical instruments, but like human beings, only each had in a strange way kept the shape it had formerly. The flutes and pipes were tall and thin, and they and the violins had changed into beautiful girls with slender throats, and the trumpets were all men and boys of different sizes, but the drum was the strangest of all, for it was a fat man with very short legs. The moon had risen and Othmar could see them all quite clearly, and though he trembled with fear and his heart beat high, yet still he watched. They stood silent together for a space in a weird crowd, and then the dwarf waved his arms and called, “Ay! are you all there, my children?—yes, one, two three four five, six seven eight, nine ten eleven twelve, thirteen—that is right. Come practice, practice, practice, and then you shall have a game, and see who Othmar loves best, and who he will kiss first.”

Then they all began to sing together, but each voice was like the sound of its own instrument, only it said words through its tones, and in Othmar’s ears their music sounded as never music had sounded before. The voices of the violin girls were so sweet that he felt as if he must weep to hear them, while the sound of the pipes and trumpets filled him with longing to go into the world and fight and win battles. He sat on the ground and listened to them like one in a trance, and he felt as if he never wished to rise or go away again. The dwarf sat on a hillock near, and did not seem to heed them much. When Othmar took his eyes from the dancers for a minute, he found that the place was quite full of all the animals who are never seen by day, but who fly out by night. There were crowds of bats and owls, and odd moths, all poised in the air, and seeming to watch the musicians and listen to their singing. Then when he looked on the ground, he saw that strange wood-snakes and toads had come out boldly, and with their heads turned towards the dancers remained motionless and watched them, whilst near him green and brown lizards lay still as stone, with heads on one side, all staring through the dusky night at the singers. Othmar thought he only had watched them for a few minutes, when suddenly the dwarf cried out—“The dawn, the dawn, my children; see, there is red in the sky. Come, be quick, see who will win Othmar’s gift before we go on our way.” When he was silent all the singing girls approached Othmar, but before the others came one who looked slighter and younger, and whose voice though as sweet was weaker.