Duncan and the Fairy Boots

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My name's Thomas and it's my pleasure to be your host. Thanks so much for tuning in for this evening's story, which was written by Frankie and will be read by Chloe. It's fair to say that fairies have captured our imaginations for many generations. And tonight we'll revisit one of the best known folk tales about fairies and witness the kindness of these mischievous creatures. So let's prepare to listen by making sure we're relaxed and restful.

As you ease into your bed, try to soften your mind and relax your body. Both have worked hard all day and they deserve this time to rest and recharge. Take a deep breath in and let it out slowly. With each breath you may find yourself drifting closer towards that magical place where sleep and dreams come naturally.

As you're breathing slow, try visualizing yourself lying on a field of soft grass with a golden sun high in the sky. This sun's warming rays caress your skin and relax each and every muscle in your body. This peaceful caress melts away any stress or worry. Bringing you a luxurious sense of sleepiness.

your neck, your shoulders and chest.

“The nourishing rays continue to move over your abdomen.”

Your hips across your upper legs and your lower legs. Any tension or achiness in the lower half of your body begins to melt away. And eventually the light reaches your ankles and feet.

Every part of you relaxes more and more, feeling warm and soothing

by the nourishing rays of our life sustaining sun.

“In this state of calm and stoneness, we can turn to our story.”

In your mind's eye, imagine a wide open green countryside. The hills seem to roll on forever, and they are crisscrossed with fields, single lane roads,

in the distance you can see a figure cresting a hell.

And this is where our story begins. The pure blue sky met the green of the earth all around Duncan.

“In love walking, it was his purpose in life and his passion.”

He loved nothing more than taking in both nature and mankind as he strayed along. He preferred the rural parts of the world. But every once in a while, he would be grabbed by the urge to walk the moonlit city streets, feeling the cobbles under his feet. Today, however, Duncan was walking through the idyllic green of a vast countryside.

Occasionally, he would see some sheep, or a few fat ponies in a field. Otherwise, he was quite alone, which was just the way he liked it. As Duncan walked, he reflected on the past few days. While the landscape was more beautiful than he could have imagined, the people were less than friendly. They would chew him off the road, or send him from their door as soon as they saw him.

Duncan looked down at himself. He had to admit, after years of walking, he wasn't exactly clean. But he was a pleasant and polite man. All he ever asked from people was whatever they could spare. A ragged blanket, a bite to eat, or even some old boots.

These days, he was lucky to get across the bread.

There must be a stream nearby.

“He peeked through edge rows, and followed the sound, until he found a little river,”

bubbling between two small hills. Duncan decided this must be a sign. He would wash himself in the river, get a scrubbed up as possible, and then knock on the door of that farmhouse over there, and see if they had anything to spare. Duncan washed himself, and his travel worn clothes, in the cool clear water of the river.

The birds sang in the branches of the weeping willow tree on the bank. Small fish darted here in there in the shallow water.

“Here is, as to what kind of fish Duncan's toes could be.”

Finally, Duncan laid himself and his clothes in a sunny spot on the bank to try.

The warmth of the sun made quick work of the soggy clothes, and he was soon on his way. As Duncan approached the farmhouse, he brushed his hair away from his face, and was sure to stand up straight. He knocked on the heavy oak door. From inside came the pattern of little feet.

The door was opened by a little girl, no more than six or seven years old.

“She looked Duncan up and down for a moment, before remembering her manners,”

and asking how she could help him. Duncan asked if her mother or father was home. The little girl nodded, and darted away into the house, without another word. Duncan stood at the door for several awkward moments, waiting for her to return.

Finally, a man came to greet Duncan, with the little girl skipping along behind him.

Duncan greeted the man politely, told him that he was a traveler, and asked if the man might have anything to spare. The girl's father shook his head, roughly. He told Duncan that they had nothing to give him, and suggested not unkindly that Duncan should consider getting a job. This was a line that Duncan had heard many times.

He wanted to tell the man that he had, once upon a time, been a working man. He had labored the eight hours a day or more, made some money, and strived to build the life that society expected from him.

But Duncan had never been happy in that life.

Underneath it all, he had always heard the call of the countryside. He wanted to tell this man that the whisper of the wind through the trees, and the babbling of a book, was more precious than any money he ever received. He wanted to take the man by the hand, and walk with him through the hills, pointing out the way the green change to gold in the sunset. All the way, the stars glittered on a cloudless night.

But Duncan did none of these things. He merely thanked the man and turned away back to the road. As Duncan walked, he noticed a sudden breeze somewhere down by his toes. He looked down and saw that not one, but both of his boots had come detached from their souls.

Duncan sighed heavily and walked on.

“After a while, however, his feet were simply too sore to continue at his usual pace.”

At midday, he decided to take a break. Along the side of the road, there was a twisted or thorn tree. It looked like the perfect place for Duncan to take a nap. He clambered up the slope with his broken boots, walked around the tree, and sat himself down with his back against the trunk, looking out at the surrounding valley.

The ground beneath the tree was soft, with velvety moss.

The branches provided the perfect cover from the hot summer sun. Duncan took off his broken boots and let his sore feet rest in the breeze.

“It was not long before he started to drift off to sleep.”

He was in the magical place between dreaming and waking. Part of him could still heal the moss and the breeze and the sun. While another part of him was somewhere else entirely.

Strange music drifted through his head.

He was surrounded by hundreds of people. But there was something strange about them as well. They seemed to glow. They were all at a party. A huge celebration.

A birthday party, perhaps?

“Duncan felt he was just about to turn around and meet someone very important”

when a pain in his foot brought him back into the waking world completely. Duncan looked around. His gaze fell on his bare feet. All three of them, wait. That couldn't be right.

Duncan looked again. There were his own two feet. And a little creature, the same size as his foot. The little person was dressed in fine green clothes. But upon closer inspection, they seemed to be woven from leaves.

On his little feet, would do bright yellow boots, made from batter cups. The rest of the creature was like nothing Duncan had ever seen before. He got at the being for a long moment. Then, a little piping voice came from the fairy. It told Duncan that he must be off as soon as possible.

Duncan blinked once or twice before responding. He told the fairy that he just needed to rest here for a little bit longer. His feet were sore, and he had been travelling for a long time. The fairy, however, was insistent. Tonight was the queen of the fairy's birthday party.

And Duncan was sleeping in the exact spot where they had planned to have the party. For a thousand years, the queen of the fairies had had her party on this little hill under this awful tree. Duncan listened to the fairy in amazement.

When the fairy finished, Duncan bowed his head and apologized.

“He told the fairy that he would soon be on his way, and went to grab his old broken boots.”

The fairy watched him for a moment before holding up a tiny hand. Duncan paused with his boots in his hand. The fairy snapped its fingers and the boots jumped from Duncan's hands.

They ran off with no feet in them down the hill and out of sight before Duncan could react.

The fairy sat down and took off its own shoes, which were bright yellow, and finer than any Duncan had ever seen.

“They were so small they could only fit on Duncan's fingers.”

The fairy offered the boots to Duncan, who politely declined them. He told the fairy that they were far too fine for him, but inside he also doubted he could even get them over one toe. The fairy insisted, and Duncan felt he had no choice but to accept. The fairy urged him to try the boots on. Duncan amazed, pulled one boot over one toe, and then all the toes, and then his entire foot.

“The boot magically grew and morphed to fit his foot perfectly.”

The other did just the same. They were so comfortable, it felt like Duncan was wearing nothing at all. His feet were no longer sore, and he could walk on forever. He jumped to his feet with joy, thanking the fairy profusely. But just as he was about to leave, the fairy stopped him.

It told Duncan that the yellow boots would never wear out, and never get dirty.

They would be the only boots he needed for the rest of his walking days. However, if he told anyone where he got the boots, they would disappear forever. Duncan promised never to tell a soul. The fairy examined Duncan with its beetle black eyes, and then told him to delay his travels for one night. The queen of the fairy's would like to have him as a guest of honor at her birthday celebrations.

Duncan was surprised. He asked how the fairy knew that the queen wanted to invite him. The fairy broke into a wide smile, and revealed that she herself was the queen of the fairies. Duncan was so surprised he stumbled into a shaking bow. The queen laughed, and waved away his formality. Then, a strange song seemed to rise up from the very earth.

The fairy appeared from behind every rock and blade of grass, and every leaf on the whole thorn tree. Duncan was swept away all day, and laid into the evening with dancing, singing, storytelling, eating and revelry.

Duncan ate the best food he had ever tasted, and listened to the sweetest music ever heard.

“He could not remember falling asleep, and only flashes of memory were with him in the morning.”

When he woke up, under the hawthorn tree, but looking down to his feet, he saw the yellow boots. As real as the ground beneath him, Duncan stood up, stretching in the fresh morning air. He felt better than he had in months, maybe even years.

He wiggled his toes in his yellow fairy boots, enjoying the comfort.

Then, he set off down the little grassy hill, back towards the road. When he reached it, he looked back at the hawthorn tree, and the mossy spot, where he spent the night. A thought briefly stole over him, how much of what he remembered was true.

“Did he really meet the fairy queen and celebrate her birthday with her?”

If not, where did the shoes come from? Duncan decided that such questions were better left unanswered, and made his way down the road. For many days and nights, Duncan travelled in a state of joy, he had not known, since he first set out on his walking trip. He found he could walk on miles without needing a rest.

True to the fairy queen's words, the shoes never got dirty.

“Never broke, never shrunk, and never made his feet hurt.”

One day, he accidentally stepped into a big puddle, and his feet stayed dry. He quickly came to consider these shoes to be his most prized possession. He and his very boots walked across fields and through forests. Where his newfound enthusiasm and comfort, Duncan was able to journey to places further away. He found himself crossing purple moose, blanketed with Heather.

He marveled at the way the wind shook the Heather across the landscape. Like waves on the sea, he hiked up mountains to sit under strange rock formations. Each one carved by the elements. He camped on white sand beaches on remote islands, where it was so windy that no trees could grow. He even walked to the oldest forest he could find, and went to the heart of the woods.

Where he camped under the bowels of the largest oldest tree. In the moments of rest, when he sat down after a long day of walking, he amused himself by paying attention to all the wonderful details of the world around him. He tried to memorize the sound of a running river, and the way the wind blew through the highest branches. He attempted to mentally catalogue the sounds of all the animals and the smell of the earth. In all his walking, however, Duncan found himself scouting around villages, and avoiding big cities.

He was worried that he might somehow let it slip, that he got his magical marvellous boots from the fairy queen and thus lose them forever.

He faraged for berries, and wild mushrooms in the forests.

“He became adept at identifying plants for making his meals.”

This new knowledge drew him closer to nature and made him more aware of the changing of the seasons. It was nearly a year before Duncan found himself back in the land of the rolling green hills. He had seemed so much in the past year, and still had his yellow fairy boots. The sun was bright, and midsummer was fast approaching. Under the heat of the day, Duncan decided to take a break, and go for swim in the river, where he had bathed a year ago.

The water was cool and refreshing after so much walking, but Duncan always stayed where he could eat one eye on his bundle of clothes and the yellow boots hidden beneath them.

“After his swim, Duncan returned to the bank of the river and dressed.”

He was just lacing up his boots when someone approached him. A tall man stroed purposefully towards Duncan. He looked wealthy, with his fine shoes and clothes. Everything was in immaculate condition. Behind him, Duncan could see an elegant horse waiting patiently by the road.

He assumed this man had never walked further than his front door to the stables in his life.

Speaking in an authoritative voice, the man asked Duncan what he was doing.

“Duncan answered politely, and neatly that he was having a swim in the river.”

But now that he had finished, he would be on his way. The rich man looked down his nose at Duncan and peered at the fairy boots. He demanded to know where he had got such fine boots. Duncan did not want to lie, but he also wanted to keep his promise. He mumbled an answer about them being a gift.

The rich man did not believe him and accused him of stealing. This insult was not one that Duncan could bear. The man even threatened to take Duncan with him to the authorities. Before he could stop himself, Duncan told the man in a proud voice that the shoes were a gift from the fairy queen. In an instant, the boots were gone. Duncan felt the cool grass beneath his feet and nothing else. The man stared down at Duncan's feet, unable to believe his eyes.

The two men looked at one another in silence for a while, unsure of what to say.

Finally, the rich man spoke.

He apologized to Duncan and told him that he had to accept what he had just seen. The fairy boots had disappeared, so Duncan's story must be true. The man regretted that he had falsely accused Duncan and made him lose his boots. Then, the rich man did something even more unexpected. He offered Duncan a ride on his horse.

Duncan accepted, not sure what else to do.

On the journey, he told Duncan about his farm and his family, while Duncan took all about the beautiful things he had experienced on his walks.

“The way the sun painted the landscape and shades of gold at sunrise, and the fresh smell of the first snow.”

He recounted all the different wild flowers, their smells, and the months in which they bloomed.

The rich man listened to every word, having never thought about the wonders of nature in such a way.

When they got to the man's house, Duncan was invited to stay for the evening. The man gave him new clothes, and a fine pair of boots. They weren't as lovely as the yellow fairy boots, but they were sturdy, well crafted, and comfortable.

“That night, Duncan dying with the rich man and his family.”

He told them the story of his fairy boots.

The next morning, the family sent him on his way with food, a blanket, and a pack full of useful items. As Duncan walked away, he marveled at the generosity of the family. An idea came to him, which he turned over in his head for the next few days. He arrived once more at the farm he had visited a year before. Then he knocked at the door.

“The father answered, with his daughter peeking around his legs to look at Duncan.”

Instead of asking for anything they could spare, Duncan offered them a story. He said he would give them an evening's worth of entertainment, in return for a meal. The father looked down at his wide-eyed daughter. She nodded, and he opened the door to allow Duncan inside. From then on, Duncan was welcomed in homes, ends, and anywhere, people drew together in the evening.

He told not just the story of the fairy boots, but also new stories that he collected during his journeys.

Duncan never wanted the clothing, blankets, food, or boots again.

He was welcomed with joy and excitement. A few years later, Duncan was waving goodbye to a lovely little village that had housed him for the evening. A young man came jogging up to him, just as Duncan was turning back to the road. The young man, Shiley, a first, asked Duncan if he might accompany him on his walks. This young man said he also felt an urging in his heart to walk.

He wanted to learn the stories of the people in this country. But also the secrets of the wilderness. He felt that all the passion and wonder of his life lay on the road.

Similarly, he nodded and told the man that they were not far from a special place.

“That night, they would camp on soft moss underneath a hoth on tree.”

And then, maybe the young man might get his first story.

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