Ned’s Bedevilment

Claire A. Murray

Ned grumbled. His stomach and the livestock grumbled with him. It was past their feeding and grooming time, and he’d rushed from his bed to care for them.

His fingers milked the cow by rote, mind a jumble, as if he’d had no sleep at all. The sun was well above the trees, headed for midday, and he’d not breakfasted yet. Why was he so tired after bedding early? And not for the first time of late.

Ned rubbed his beard and sighed. Morning routine was broken, his horse missing since yesterday, and he was hungry.

The gravel between house and barn crunched under a weight. Not the clop, clop of his horse. His head sagged.

“Ho, there, friend,” said a nasal-voiced stranger. “Might ye spare a bit of food and a night’s sleep in the barn for a weary traveler?” His body blocked the sunlight, casting a long shadow on the hay littering the ground.

“Aye. But nights get chill these days. Best sleep by the hearth.” Ned stood and stretched his hand out, and the stranger strode over and clasped it in a firm grip.

“Agreed. If ye let me work off my stay.”

As much as Ned enjoyed the solitude of his simple farm at the southwestern edge of the Four Kingdoms, it had been several seasons since he had visitors. “I missed breakfast. Can ye cook?”

“Indeed, at this hour, I could make a breakfast to get us through the entire day.”

#

By that evening, Ned and Orian had finished Ned’s delayed chores and were smoking pipes on the porch as the sun set behind the trees. Orian thanked Ned, as he had a great distance to travel. “Ye look worn. Let me clean the dishes. Ye get off to bed.”

Too tired to turn down the offer, Ned nodded and went to his room.

That night, Orian awoke to Ned’s voice arguing with someone Orian could not hear. He crept to the closed door. Three high-pitched voices giggled and whispered. Ned’s gruff voice answered, muffled as if still asleep.

Orian slipped back to the hearth and pretended to sleep, his thoughts on those voices.

#

The next morning, Orian offered to stay a day or two more and help with chores.

“That’s right neighborly, Orian. Ye’ve no need, but my hearth is always open.” Ned poured himself a third cup of steaming bunna, his eyes bleary with sleep despite the morning wake-up brew.

“I’m in no hurry. Ye have been most kind and appear to need a hand with winter preparations. I could fix that barn roof.”

Ned accepted and showed Orian where he kept his tools. Orian worked on the roof repair while Ned set the goat and cow out to pasture.

When the two men broke off chores for midday meal, Orian asked, “Ye have tack and saddle, even a plow, but no horse?”

“Broke loose t’other night. Thought he’d come back by now.”

Orian shook his head. “Does this happen often?”

“Once before. He come back in a day, so I ’spect he’ll turn up today.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Orian studied Ned’s blank face.

“Guess’n I’ll have to go lookin’.” Ned yawned and picked up his empty plate. “He’ll turn up.”

The horse had not returned by the time their chores were done, and Orian offered to help Ned search. “I’ll look on the road.”

“Grateful for the help. I’ll search the woods, see if he got his rope tangled in brush.”

The two men separated, but as soon as Ned was out of sight, Orian turned off the road and circled back to the woods. Soon, he picked up Ned’s trail. Ahead, a row of trees lined up in military fashion, their high branches forming an arch over each side of a grassy path. “Ah, methinks Ned is bedeviled by pixies.”

#

Orian crept along the pixie path on silent feet. It was nearing sundown when he heard Ned’s voice ahead of him. “What ye want with me? I done ye no harm.”

Crouching behind one of the last trees on the path, Orian held his breath. Three pixies hovering above Ned in a small glen giggled as their different voices formed a complete sentence. “All big people . . . ” “do us harm . . . ” “just by being.”

“Go away. Need to find my horse.”

“Horse gone . . . ” “you won’t find . . . ” “without us.”  

Orian charged from his hiding place, shouting at the pixies to leave his friend alone. They popped out of sight, leaving a green mist behind. Orian grabbed his swaying host before he fell and helped him sit.

Ned shook his head and blinked several times. “What was that?”

“Ye’re bedeviled by pixies, my friend. Visiting in the night, which is why ye’re daytime sleepy. How long since ye’ve had a good night’s sleep?”

“Oh, well . . . cain’t recall. Long time . . . long time.” As Ned’s voice drifted off, Orian helped him to his feet and led him out of the forest and back to his cabin.

Ned slept through the night, and in the morning, the two men set out in the forest again. They went through the glen and along the path on the opposite side, where they found Ned’s horse tangled in bushes. Orian showed Ned that the rope had been loosely tied to the bush. “He didn’t get here by himself, Ned. The pixies did this. Time to teach them a lesson.”

#

Ned gave his horse a rub on the snout and joined Orian on the porch. “How ye know about pixies?”

“Not my first encounter, Ned.” He fingered the crook in his nose. “Never thought to find them so far from the Dark Forest.”

“Huh! My folks said to never go there. Guess’n now I know why.” Ned rocked back.

“Have ye done . . . strange things lately?”

“Oh, and then some. Caught meself ’bout to pour cold ash from the hearth into the well and spoil the water for me and my animals.”

Ned rocked back again and closed his eyes. “Next day, same thing. Fed the animals right quick after that and went back to bed. Didn’t wake ’til nightfall. Got no chores done that day, but I slept.”

Orian leaned forward. “Anything else?”

“Well . . . few days later, someone had tied bows in the hair on top of the cow’s head and hobbled the goat’s feet. I set things right but wondered what else I might’ve done to cripple my farm.”

“We need a plan, Ned. Pixies work in secret. If too many people know about them, they go away. But ye’re alone for miles all around, and ye’re forest is attractive to them.”

“Can we make it not attractive?”

“Probably not. We have to capture them.”

#

Over breakfast, Orian told Ned about pixies. “Pixies are like children. They think only of fun and games, not the harm they cause. It’s their nature to be free.”

“Why don’t I remember them in the mornings?”

“They sprinkle dis-remember dust in ye’r face before leaving. If ye don’t inhale enough of it, ye’ll have memories of strange dreams.”

“Indeed. That I have.” Ned fingered his mug. “Can we capture them?”

“Possibly. They can’t pop out of existence if they’re trapped in a bag or large piece of cloth. ’Tis painful to their skin, and they can’t work their spell to free themselves.”

“If they be childlike, can we lure them with sweets . . . shiny objects, colorful ribbons?”

“Yes, exactly. That’s what we need.”

Ned scurried to his room and returned with a small, wooden box. Inside were ribbons of many colors; small trinkets that jingled when Ned held them aloft; small, shiny balls made from colored glass, and more.

“What a treasure box, Ned. Were these yer’n as a child?”

“Some. Others I gathered. Hoped to find a wife and have children. Then I became content here. Mornings with my animals and garden. Afternoons chopping wood or hunting in the forest. Sometimes I fish at a distant river for trout and bass to smoke for winter storage. Evenings, I have my pipe until bedtime.”

He sighed and closed the box. “So peaceful. Until now.”

Orian grinned and pointed at the box. “This will help us set a trap. We can catch them.”

“They did not come last night. Might they be gone?”

“Doubtful. Likely sleeping in their hideaway . . . many nights of mischief require respite. When ye’r lulled into feeling safe, they’ll return.”

#

Orian instructed Ned in creating a cage using sticks from his wood chopping and rope from the barn. While Ned glued colorful ribbons on the sticks, Orian baked sugar cookies, each with a piece of fruit in the center.

“Orian, you seem to know a lot about this. How many times have you encountered pixies?”

“Several. As a child, I lived near the Dark Forest and was lured away from home several times. A forester taught me how to evade them, later how to capture them. But not until after I had caused my family much grief doing the pixies’ bidding.”

Ned laid his hand on Orian’s shoulder. “I am sorry to hear that. It must have been painful.”

Orian nodded and continued his work. The two men soon had a trap large enough to hold the three pixies, and once the third pixie entered, its weight would trigger the door to slam shut and a cloth to drop over the entire frame.

They set the finished trap in Ned’s room, placed the cookies inside, and sprinkled sugar over the ribbons Orian had dampened with water. “Remember, Ned, when you go to bed, leave your window cracked open, despite the chill night air, as that will give them easy access to your room.”

He then went through the house and shuttered all the windows and put a rug against each door. The only entries to Ned’s house were the fireplace, where Orian would keep the fire hot, and Ned’s open window.

Orian had them both stuff their noses with soft cloth so they could not inhale any pixie dust that might compel them to free the trapped pixies. He went to bed at the hearth, ears alert. Ned lay down on his bed and closed his eyes as if asleep.

#

No pixies arrived that night or the next. He and Ned ate several cookies and gave the goat the rest. Orian prepared a fresh batch and redampened the ribbon, sprinkling more sugar on top.

On the third night, the whirring of wings alerted Ned. His heartbeat quickened, and it was all he could do to remain still on the bed, eyes closed, and breathe normally.

The voices that had interfered with his sleep so many times took on an even higher pitch. “What’s that I smell?” “Sugar.” “Look, ribbons!” “Ooh, cookies . . . and fruit.”

Words garbled into nonsense as the pixies’ voices blended into one indistinguishable string.

Snap! The door slammed closed on the trap. The cloth dropped over it, and the pixies’ muffled voices became angry, confused, then hurt.

Orian dashed into the room. “We did it, Ned. We trapped ourselves a trio of pixies.”

“But now what do we do with them? We can’t let them out.”

“Oh, but we can . . . after we get their promise not to bother you or your farm ever again. That’s their code they must live by.”

#

The pixies voices quieted, then one seemed to become the spokes-pixie for the trio. “Please, please let us out. We meant no harm. We only want to play.”

Ned’s voice was gruff. “Ye could have harmed my horse, him tied up like that with no food or water. Ye’r games are no fun to us!”

“We’re sorry. We won’t do it again.”

Orian spoke up. “’Tis right ye won’t do it again. Because until ye swear to leave this man and his farm . . . and all of his neighbors alone,” Orian winked at Ned, “ye don’t get out.”

The two men held their breath awaiting a response. Ned’s face was pensive, while Orian grinned and said, “I count to three. If I reach three, you stay in that trap.”

“No, no,” squealed the spokes-pixie. “We agree. No more games.”

“And ye’ll leave this forest, return home?”

“Agree. Agree we do. All three.”

“Ye’ll return to the Dark Forest?”

Silence.

Orian leaned toward the trap and lowered his voice to a menace. “Ye’ll return to the Dark Forest?”

A heavy sigh preceded the spokes-pixie’s answer. “Agreed. All three. Return to the Dark Forest.”

Orian lifted the cloth cover. Three pixies were huddled in the center of the trap, hugging each other. He opened the door. “Ye can teke the cookies.”

The pixies grabbed the cookies and popped out of sight, leaving a green mist behind. Only after it dissipated did Orian signal they could remove the cloth from their noses and go to bed.

In the morning, Orian prepared to leave.

“Where ye headed? I never asked.”

Orian grinned. “On a mission from the pixie High King. I track down and return his missing children.”

~