The Fairie Grotto
As you enter the Faerie Grotto, you see several faeries flitting around. “Welcome to our Grotto!” they say in sweet, chiming voices. This is where the Faeries in the Lair live and play!
One lovely Faerie comes dancing up to you. “Come dance with me!” she says with a giggle. "I love to dance"
You look at the dancing Faerie flitting around. “I wish that I could,” you tell her with a sigh. “I fear that I can't join you! It's hard to dance like you do when you have no wings!”
“Ahh, poor Mortal! You have no wings! How sad for you!” And with that the Faerie flits away. You watch her fly away and sigh. What would it be like to have wings you wonder.
Another Faerie flies past with a flower branch in her hands. “Greetings, Mortal!” she says with a smile.
“Greetings!" you tell her. "What are you going to do with those flowers?”
“I am taking them to decorate my Bower! I love the scent of fresh flowers around me!”
“I have have never seen a Faerie Bower before... do you think I could have a peek?”
The Faerie hesitates a moment. “Well... I guess it would be ok since you are a guest of Malacore and all.” Then the Faerie giggles. “But really, you are too big to fit into my Bower. You will just have to peek in and see what you can from the outside!”
You follow the Faerie and peek inside the hollow tree at her little Bower. It's filled with flowers and something that sparkles like fireflies. “Oh, how lovely!” you tell the Faerie
“Thank you” she says with a smile and pops inside to add the flowers to her Bower.
You hear a tinkling giggle behind you and turn to see where it's coming from. Finally you spot a tiny Faerie perched in a rose bush.
“You looked funny peering into that Bower, Mortal! You are way too big to fit in there!”
“I know... but I just wanted to see what it looked like!”
“You are lucky she let you peek,” the tiny Faerie tells you. “Most Mortals are never allowed to see such things,”
“I am honored then.”
“As well you should be Mortal!”
You look at the tiny mite perched up there midst all of the thorns on the rose bush. “Aren't you afraid of getting poked by one of those torns?” you ask her.
She giggles again. “No, not at all. I am the Fae of the Roses. Why should they prick me with their thorns? I am their friend.”
“I see! And what does the Fae of the Roses do?”
“I care for the roses here and help them grow. What else would a Fae of the Roses do, silly Mortal?” She giggles once more.
What else indeed!