The Treasure Cave: sea tales of Tiptoes Lightly (8 page)

Farmer John
had even opened the door and felt around, but they’d stayed so still he hadn’t
found them. At last he went to the kitchen and called out: “Who wants ice
cream?” and before Tom and June could stop themselves, they cried “Me!” That’s
how he’d found them.

“Not fair,”
said June Berry, climbing off the closet shelf.

“I think so
too,” said Tom. “You owe us an ice cream for sure.”

Farmer John
laughed. “You guys love ice cream too much! That’s why you were found. What
kind do you want?”

“Maple syrup!”
they shouted, and Farmer John gave them a big scoop each.

Then they sat
by the fire waiting for Tiptoes to show up.

“Dad, you’d
better not fall asleep when Tiptoes tells the tale,” said Tom.

“I know,” said
Farmer John. “I keep nodding off. But where is she?’

“Sometimes we
have to call her,” said June Berry, and she sang out:

“Tiptoes
Lightly,

Small
as can be,

Won’t
you come back

From the waves and the sea?”

“Here I am,”
said Tiptoes, appearing out of nowhere. “But I wasn’t at the sea. I was
visiting the ground squirrels along the bluff. They have so many tunnels I
almost got lost.”

Farmer John
and the children were on the sofa and Lucy lay on the rug beside the fire, so
Tiptoes settled herself on the armchair again.

“You were
going to tell us about the fire fairies,” said Tom.

“That’s
right,” said Tiptoes, and Farmer John’s eyes slowly closed, but the children
didn’t notice.

Asherah’s
Dance

Asherah the
Earth Mother wandered amongst the trees,” said Tiptoes. “Kradak the Weighty had
changed them forever. Now they were mixed with the soil of the earth: their
trunks were brown, their limbs were brown, and so were their branches and
twigs. They were bare and stark, like trees in winter, or after fire has swept
through a forest.

Asherah wept
and cried to the sun: ‘Oh, Brothers and Sisters of the Sun, what am I to do?’

Sister Vive
replied: ‘The trees are still alive, Asherah. The life I gave them lives on.
But you must hurry or they will die under Kradak’s heavy spell.’

Asherah wiped
away her tears and put her ear to a tree. She heard, faintly, as if from far
away, the rising waters in the wood, and felt the light and warmth still living
in its limbs.

‘Oh, Star
Father, Star Father, what am I to do?’ cried Asherah, to the Great Father
amongst the stars.

‘Look about
you,’ said the Star Father.

Asherah looked
about.

‘All I see are
trees as if dead,’ said Asherah.

‘Look further
and see the living hues of the heavens,’ said the Star Father.

Asherah looked
beyond the stark trees and saw the heavenly blue sky. She saw the sun shining
so brightly. She reached up and took blue sky in her heart-hand. She reached up
and grasped yellow sun rays with her hand-of-might. She held them in her
hands—one blue, one yellow—and clapped.

Clap—clap—clap!

Out flew green
leaves with her clapping.

Clap—clap—clap!

Out flew the
leaves to the trees—hundreds and thousands of leaves flew to the trees from the
clapping of her yellow and blue hands.

Asherah smiled
and began to dance to her clapping. Clap-clap-clap! She moved her feet upon the
ground. She moved them slowly and heavily, quickly and lightly, and from her
dancing feet the earth spirits were born. They raced to the roots of the trees
for they liked to be in the holy ground of the Earth Mother.

Asherah danced
again. Clap-clap-clap! Her dress flowed like waves. Her arms flowed like water.
Her body moved as lithe as liquid, and from her dance the water spirits were
born. They poured out of Asherah’s dance into the trees and guided the waters
of life that Vive gave to them.

Asherah danced
again. Clap-clap-clap! She spun like a storm, her dress whirled like the wind
and her hair flew. She sang, and the air spirits were born on the wings of her
song. They flew to the trees and leaves and lifted them to Vallor’s light and
let them breathe.

Asherah danced
again. Clap-clap-clap she clapped fiercely and danced a fiery dance. Kalor
surged in her blood, fire flew from her eyes, her feet shed sparks, and her
dress flickered with red and orange flames.

‘Fly from my
fire-word!’ cried Asherah, and the fire spirits flew from her words. They
brought Kalor’s sun-warmth into the trees, they ripened the fruit and cooked
the seeds, they painted the autumn leaves red and stored living fire inside the
wood.

Asherah
stopped dancing. O, when Asherah stopped dancing the world was changed forever.
She looked. She saw beauty. All around was beauty—beauty before her, beauty
behind her, beauty all round her. And there were trees with leaves, trees with
flowers, trees with fruit abundant, and trees with warmth and strength in their
wood.

The Star
Father smiled. Kalor and Vallor and Sister Vive smiled. Asherah smiled and was
pleased. Kradak’s rage had been transformed.”

“That’s how
the fire fairies were born,” said Tiptoes to Tom. “That’s why there is so much
fire and light inside the wood we burn on misty nights beside the restless
ocean.”

Farmer John
leaped up. His eyes were wild. “I saw a woman dancing,” he cried. “She was
beautiful and the whole world danced with her.”

“You were
dreaming the story,” laughed June Berry, hugging him. “You fell asleep again.”

“I did?” said
Farmer John. “But it seemed so real!”

The
Lighthouse Keeper

That evening
Tiptoes left Farmer John sitting by the fire after the children had gone to
bed. She flew northwards up the coast through a gentle rain. The waxing moon
was hidden by the clouds and the night was almost pitch black. Far away, out
beyond where the seals rested on the rocks, the lighthouse lamp turned round
and round. Over the salty waves Tiptoes flew, spray splashing in her face.

She reached
the island and circled the lighthouse. The island was not much more than a rock
sticking out of the sea and washed by the waves forever pounding against it.
The windows were lit, and by the light over the door she saw a patch of sea grass
blowing in the wind. Further away she saw a small boat by the landing. Tiptoes
wondered why anyone would want to live in such a place. It must be lonely, with
never a soul to visit or pass the time of day.

She flew to
the door and knocked. Knock-knock-knock! Knock-knock-knock!

Nobody
answered.

She knocked
again—knock-knock-knock! … and still nobody answered.

She was about
to fly in the keyhole when the door opened.

“Who’s there?”
asked the light-house keeper.

“It’s me,”
said Tiptoes. “I’ve come to pay a visit.”

The keeper
peered around, trying to see where the voice was coming from, but couldn’t find
anybody. He scratched his head.

“I could have
sworn I heard a voice,” he muttered.

“You did!”
said Tiptoes, flying in front of his face. “Here I am! Here I am!”

The lighthouse
keeper’s jaw dropped open. “A talking butterfly!” he gasped.

“No, you
silly,” said Tiptoes. “I’m a fairy! Can’t you see?”

The keeper
looked her up and down. “So you are!” he exclaimed. “I thought you were a
butterfly.”

“Not me,” laughed
Tiptoes. “May I come in for a visit?”

“Of course,
little fairy,” said the keeper. “Please come in. I don’t normally have such
tiny visitors. I’d give you tea, but I don’t have teacups small enough for
you.”

“That’s okay,”
said Tiptoes. “I just want to chat,” and she flew in the door with a flutter of
wings.

The lighthouse
was round and had three rooms. On the ground floor was the living room and
kitchen; above that was the bedroom, and above that was a work room. High on
top sat the room with the light that the keeper had to tend. The living room
had two small, deep set windows looking towards land. The windows had to face
away from the sea, otherwise, when storms sent waves crashing against the
lighthouse, they would break and the house be flooded.

The keeper
made himself a cup of tea and sat down on the sofa by the fire. He had a brown,
weather-beaten face. He stroked his beard and looked carefully at Tiptoes with
friendly eyes.

“What’s your
name, little one?” he asked.

“Tiptoes
Lightly.”

“And why did you
want to visit?” asked the keeper.

“To hear about
mermaids,” said Tiptoes.

The keeper’s
eyes opened a bit. “I see,” he said, stroking his beard again.

“Will you tell
me about them?” asked Tiptoes.

The keeper’s
head bobbed up and down as if he was thinking. “I suppose,” he said slowly.
“There’s not much to say really. They live in the sea and are half human and
half fish—or at least that’s what the legends say.”

“What else?”
asked Tiptoes.

“What else?
Let me see … the ladies are called mermaids or sea maidens, and the men are
called mermen.”