The Green Hero Read Free Page A

the leafmold, grew brighter, rose again toward his face. It was a tiny manikin, rising out of the earth. No bigger than a twig was he, with a squinched-up little nut of a face. Upon his head glistened Finn’s tear, a crystal now, milky white as the moon, lighting up a space about the little man.
    “Who are you?” said Finn.
    “I am the Thrig of Tone.”
    “Are you now?”
    “Have you heard of me?”
    “No, sir.”
    “An ignorant lad you are then, for I am famous.”
    “What for?”
    “Magic mostly. Mischief some. I’m much abused in certain quarters. But I’m a good one to know, I’ll tell you that. Unless I happen to take a dislike to you, in which case you will regret our acquaintance.”
    “I see,” said Finn.
    “I doubt it. The thing about me is I’m not around very often, as it happens. A powerful curse is working upon me, you see. I’m the prisoner of a spell, woven by the wickedest old witch who was ever wooed by the devil and wore a black hat to her wedding—her name is Drabne of Dole. What can I do for you now?”
    “You wish to do something for me?”
    “I must.”
    “Why must you?”
    “A condition of the curse. I’m a prisoner of the dust, you see, until the purest tear happens to fall on me. Then I come to life and wear it as a jewel and must serve the weeper, whoever it is.”
    “Did I weep a pure tear?”
    “I’m here, am I not?”
    “What makes a tear pure?”
    “An extraordinary grief. Something outside the scheme of things, so odd it makes the gods laugh. And that laughter of the gods, which you know as the wind, means that someone somewhere has a grief he cannot handle. But it must be something special; plain things won’t do, you know, not for the gods. They see enough of ordinary misery, they’re no longer amused, they like something special. A crocodile moved to pity, perhaps; that roused me some time ago, and I had an adventure then. Or a king brought low. Yes, they like that. Or something wondrously beautiful made ugly, watching itself become so, and not able to stop. All this will set the night a-howling. What they found special in you, I don’t know. But here I am. And there’s the wind, hear it? What is your problem, lad?”
    “Myself mostly. I come of a family of giants, and am small. I love someone who does not know what love is. And I have a bold deed in mind, but am afraid. Also, something pounced and something screamed, reminding me of the world’s arrangements about big things eating small ones. Well, all this made me weep, Master Thrig of Tone, sir. If you help me I shall be grateful, but I don’t know how you can.”
    “What is this deed you have in mind?”
    “Well, you see, sir, this young lady I admire is much upset by the sight of a worm. Making me think that the sight of a snake would absolutely terrify her and make her feel very affectionate toward her rescuer.”
    “Think you’d be much good at fighting off serpents? They’re very strong, you know, just one long muscle. Makes it awkward when you start to wrestle them. Not only that, but a mouthful of secret weapons. Hollow teeth that squirt poison, making even the smallest serpent deadlier than wolf or bear. You absolutely sure it’s a snake you want to choose for your first bout, young Finn?”
    “I am sure.”
    “Well, this requires a bit of thinking. Let’s see. How can we do this with the most honor to you and the most effect on your little friend, and the least damage to both of you? And the most pleasure to the serpents, too, for they’re the kind of creature that go along with nothing unless they’re pleased. Pleased, yes, that’s a thought. You play any musical instrument? Flute, for instance.”
    “Don’t even know what it is. Sometimes, though, I shake my rattle a certain way that makes my blood dance. And Murtha sits there dancing without moving her legs.”
    “Rhythm section’s all very well, but what snakes like is melody.”
    He broke off a reed from a nearby clump, took