A Hidden Path by StarSpray

A Hidden Path

The morning had not begun very promisingly. After the boys had left for school, Mother had wrestled Roverandom into the bathtub and given him a thorough scrubbing. It seemed the fish he’d investigated the evening before, washed up on the beach, had pushed past the last of her patience. “There!” she said at last, after rubbing him down with a towel. “That’s much better.”

Roverandom had to agree that the fish hadn’t smelled very pleasant, but he didn’t think soap was an improvement. But for his troubles he received a very nice bone, still with meat on it, and by lunchtime the fish incident seemed to have been forgotten, and Mother did not think twice before opening the door to let Roverandom out to roam. She herself set off for the market, humming cheerfully as she strode off down the path.

It was a lovely day. Gulls called to one another down by the beach, and the waves on the sand provided a constant, comforting music. Roverandom sat by the garden gate and scratched thoughtfully behind an ear, considering what he wanted to do with his afternoon, which stretched out before him, golden with spring sunshine and possibility. He did not want to go down to the beach; Psamathos would be asleep at this time of day, and he was unlikely to find anything or anyone else interesting. Likewise, there was nothing novel or interesting awaiting him in the village; he’d been the morning before and gotten all the latest canine gossip from old Winston, the aging bulldog who lived at the tavern and who knew all there was to know—about the dogs and the people, and even the local cats.

All that considered, Roverandom set off at a trot over the road and into the fields beyond. He knew the meadows and fields surrounding his home quite well, of course, and had romped all over them with his boy and his brothers. But there was plenty of countryside beyond them, and, well, no time like the present for exploring! At the very least he felt it unlikely that he’d find anything that would prompt Mother to subject him to another bath.

After cutting across several meadows, and skirting around a sheep pasture with a particularly protective sheepdog who Roverandom had not met before, he found himself on another lane, unfamiliar and lined with trees on either side, like pillars in a great hall. They were very tall, and their branches stretched out toward the center of the lane where each side met like friends holding out their hands, so that it almost seemed like he stood in a very long hall with pillars on either side beneath a vaulted ceiling. Sunlight reached the lane only in dapples that danced over the packed dirt of the road with each slight breeze that set the canopy above rustling. As Roverandom stepped onto the lane a breeze came down the way, setting the leaves all quivering and bringing with it a strange, fresh smell—a faintly familiar smell that made his ears perk up. It was mingled with the smells flowers and honey and dewy grass, and the faint sound of music and of many fair voices laughing and singing together.

He set off down the lane, following the smells and the music. It seemed to stretch on for miles and miles, but it also felt like no time at all before he found a path branching off of the lane in between two particularly large trees, grassy and lined with white flowers. It led into a wood, and in the distance Roverandom caught the warm flicker of a fire, and heard louder now the music and the laughing voices. He left the lane and loped down the grassy path until he came to the edge of a wide clearing with several bonfires burning merrily, sending sparks up like tiny stars. Many people were there, clad in bright colors with flowers and gems wound through their hair, dancing wide, leaping dances around the fires. Others were busy setting out a marvelous feast on blankets spread on the grass, and other still played musical instruments of many kinds that Roverandom recognized, and many more that he did not.

They were Faery folk, of course. Roverandom had not had many dealings with them, beyond the little sea fairies that he knew, and of course the Merfolk. But he’d heard many tales from both Psamathos and the Man in the Moon, and on summer evenings he had caught wind of this same sort of music, though he’d never managed to find its source before. He sat down at the edge of the clearing and scratched behind an ear, watching the goings on curiously. He did not enter the clearing; he knew better than to intrude upon a party like this without an invitation.

After a little while one of the faeries, a lovely and kingly figure, came over to crouch before Roverandom. He was tall and lithe, and with a crown of star-shaped gems upon his brow that gleamed like real stars. “Well met, Roverandom,” he said, smiling; his voice was resonant and shivered through the air. “Come and join our party!” He gave Roverandom a good scratch behind both of his ears, and Roverandom bounded after him back to the party, where he received many similar greetings and more good scratches and belly rubs than any dog could ask for. Not to mention the food! No table scraps for anyone at this party; Roverandom had an entire roast of his own, and the bone afterward. It was given to him by the Faery King himself, and Roverandom spent most of the evening at his feet, except when he got up to dance with the Faery Queen, who was the most beautiful and resplendent lady that Roverandom had ever seen, with a dress of living flowers, and real butterflies in her hair instead of gemstones. They spun between the bonfires, laughing together, shining in the light of the stars on the King’s brow. Roverandom joined the dancing too, romping between the other dancers without ever fearing that he’d trip someone; they were all far too graceful for that, and they welcomed him into the dances with ringing laughter.

It was very late when Roverandom felt that he should be getting back home. His family wasn’t given to worrying, being used to his comings and goings, but all the same it was not a good idea for any mortal creature to linger too long in Faery. He trotted up to the King and the Queen and bowed, in dog fashion, and received a scratching from the King and a kiss from the Queen. “Fare well, Roverandom!” she said, in a voice as lovely and old and young as springtime. “Give our greetings to Psamathos by the Sea!”

“Fare travels,” added the Faery King with a smile. “Guard your boy well, Roverandom; it will be his turn to have adventures, soon.”

“Thank you for having me!” said Roverandom. “Fare well!”

He followed the grassy path, now lit by the full moon, back to the lane lined by trees. From there it was a pleasant night’s trot back home, where he slipped in through his door flap, and made his way silently to his boy’s room, where he curled up in a patch of moonlight on the rug with a contented sigh. And in the morning Mother did not complain of any fishy smells, but instead wondered where the scent of fresh wildflowers came from, as it lingered in the kitchen all through the day.