The lights illuminating the stage brightened and Lotus leaped onto a rock, casting his arms wide in an elaborate proclamation. “What’s happening now?” Laurel asked, tugging on Tamani’s shirt in her excitement.
“Lotus has decided that he will prove himself to Heather’s father by retrieving a golden apple from the Isle of Hesperides. Also known as Avalon,” he added with a smile.
The stage cleared, and the set shimmered for an instant before morphing into an enormous flower garden with blooms of every imaginable color covering the perimeter of the stage. Laurel gasped. “How did they do that?”
Tamani smiled. “Much of the set is an illusion. This is why Summer faeries are in charge of our entertainment.”
Laurel leaned forward, trying to study the new scenery, but she didn’t have much time before the faux glade was filled with dancing faeries in bright, multicolored costumes. She saw instantly just how obviously ungraceful the “human dancers” had been. The company of faeries whirled through elaborate choreography with a grace that would have put Pavlova to shame. After a few minutes of the incredible corps, a rather tall faerie in a sheer, clinging gown entered from stage right. The company of faeries dropped to their knees, allowing the female faerie to take central focus for her solo. Laurel had been to professional ballets in San Francisco, but nothing prepared her for the raw talent and grace of this principal dancer.
“Who is that?” she breathed to Tamani, her eyes riveted on the stage.
“Titania,” Tamani responded.
“The Titania?” Laurel asked breathlessly. His arm was snug around Laurel’s back as their heads pressed close so they could whisper, but Laurel hardly noticed.
“No, no. I meant she’s playing Titania.”
“Oh,” Laurel said, a little disappointed that she wasn’t going to get to see a legendary faerie perform. In the middle of Titania’s beautiful arabesque, a male faerie—with no beard this time—entered from stage left. The faerie corps twittered and dropped into low bows on the floor of the stage.
“Is that Oberon?” Laurel asked, thinking of the faerie king often paired with Titania in faerie lore.
“See, you’re catching on,” Tamani said with a grin.
The faerie playing Oberon began his own solo, his movements brash, daring, almost violent, but with the same controlled grace of the faerie playing Titania. Soon the two were dancing together, each trying to outdo the other as the music rose stronger, louder, until with a surge of brass, Titania tripped on her own feet and sprawled onto the ground. With a wave of her hand, and angry, stomping steps, she and some of the faerie corps exited the stage, chased by Oberon’s faeries.
“Why are they angry with her?” Laurel asked.
“Titania is a very unpopular figure in history,” Tamani responded. “She was a Fall faerie—and Unseelie at that—who became Queen during a time when there were no Winter Faeries. Oberon was born soon after and took over as King, when he was only twenty years old—almost a child, in terms of royalty, and still not soon enough for most people’s taste. Titania was responsible for the disastrous mess in Camelot.”
“The trolls…destroyed it, right?”
“That’s right. And the aftermath led to his death just as he was proving to be one of the greatest kings in Avalon’s history. So Titania is generally blamed for that loss.”
“That seems unfair.”
“Perhaps.”
The stage cleared again and returned to a forest scene. Lotus rushed in, pursued by Heather, who hid behind the trees every time Lotus turned around. They rushed about in confusing circles until two more figures entered the stage: Darnel, and a very pretty female faerie.
“Now I’m confused again,” Laurel said as the female faerie tried to cling to Darnel and he kept pushing her away.
“That’s Hazel. She is in love with Darnel. Darnel is chasing Heather, who is chasing Lotus, trying to stop him from the dangerous trip to the Isle of Hesperides. Hazel is trying to convince Darnel to just be happy with her.”
Something clicked in Laurel’s head as the lovely Hazel tugged forlornly on Darnel’s coat and he cast her aside. “Wait a second,” she said. “This is A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“Well, it’s what would eventually become A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Like most of Shakespeare’s best plays, it started out as a faerie story.”
“No way!”
Tamani shushed her gently as a few Fall faeries glanced their way. “Honestly,” Tamani continued, his voice low and soft, “did you think he came up with Romeo and Juliet all by himself? A thousand years ago it was Rhoeo and Jasmine, but Shakespeare’s version is a passable retelling.”
Laurel’s eyes stayed locked on the four faeries dancing their dizzying chase. “How did Shakespeare come to know the faerie stories?” She glanced up at Tamani. “He was human, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, yes.” Tamani chuckled quietly. “He lived in a time when the rulers of Avalon still kept an eye on human affairs. They were impressed by his plays about the Kings—Lear and Richard, I believe. Deadly dull stories, but his writing was magnificent. So the King had him brought here to give him some fresh story lines for his beautiful words. And they hoped he would correct some of the errors in faerie mythology. A Midsummer Night’s Dream was his first play after coming to Avalon, followed soon after by The Tempest. But after a while he resented that the King would not let him come and go as he pleased. So he left and didn’t come back. And as revenge, he didn’t put any more faeries into his plays. He made them all human and claimed them as his own.”
“Lotus has decided that he will prove himself to Heather’s father by retrieving a golden apple from the Isle of Hesperides. Also known as Avalon,” he added with a smile.
The stage cleared, and the set shimmered for an instant before morphing into an enormous flower garden with blooms of every imaginable color covering the perimeter of the stage. Laurel gasped. “How did they do that?”
Tamani smiled. “Much of the set is an illusion. This is why Summer faeries are in charge of our entertainment.”
Laurel leaned forward, trying to study the new scenery, but she didn’t have much time before the faux glade was filled with dancing faeries in bright, multicolored costumes. She saw instantly just how obviously ungraceful the “human dancers” had been. The company of faeries whirled through elaborate choreography with a grace that would have put Pavlova to shame. After a few minutes of the incredible corps, a rather tall faerie in a sheer, clinging gown entered from stage right. The company of faeries dropped to their knees, allowing the female faerie to take central focus for her solo. Laurel had been to professional ballets in San Francisco, but nothing prepared her for the raw talent and grace of this principal dancer.
“Who is that?” she breathed to Tamani, her eyes riveted on the stage.
“Titania,” Tamani responded.
“The Titania?” Laurel asked breathlessly. His arm was snug around Laurel’s back as their heads pressed close so they could whisper, but Laurel hardly noticed.
“No, no. I meant she’s playing Titania.”
“Oh,” Laurel said, a little disappointed that she wasn’t going to get to see a legendary faerie perform. In the middle of Titania’s beautiful arabesque, a male faerie—with no beard this time—entered from stage left. The faerie corps twittered and dropped into low bows on the floor of the stage.
“Is that Oberon?” Laurel asked, thinking of the faerie king often paired with Titania in faerie lore.
“See, you’re catching on,” Tamani said with a grin.
The faerie playing Oberon began his own solo, his movements brash, daring, almost violent, but with the same controlled grace of the faerie playing Titania. Soon the two were dancing together, each trying to outdo the other as the music rose stronger, louder, until with a surge of brass, Titania tripped on her own feet and sprawled onto the ground. With a wave of her hand, and angry, stomping steps, she and some of the faerie corps exited the stage, chased by Oberon’s faeries.
“Why are they angry with her?” Laurel asked.
“Titania is a very unpopular figure in history,” Tamani responded. “She was a Fall faerie—and Unseelie at that—who became Queen during a time when there were no Winter Faeries. Oberon was born soon after and took over as King, when he was only twenty years old—almost a child, in terms of royalty, and still not soon enough for most people’s taste. Titania was responsible for the disastrous mess in Camelot.”
“The trolls…destroyed it, right?”
“That’s right. And the aftermath led to his death just as he was proving to be one of the greatest kings in Avalon’s history. So Titania is generally blamed for that loss.”
“That seems unfair.”
“Perhaps.”
The stage cleared again and returned to a forest scene. Lotus rushed in, pursued by Heather, who hid behind the trees every time Lotus turned around. They rushed about in confusing circles until two more figures entered the stage: Darnel, and a very pretty female faerie.
“Now I’m confused again,” Laurel said as the female faerie tried to cling to Darnel and he kept pushing her away.
“That’s Hazel. She is in love with Darnel. Darnel is chasing Heather, who is chasing Lotus, trying to stop him from the dangerous trip to the Isle of Hesperides. Hazel is trying to convince Darnel to just be happy with her.”
Something clicked in Laurel’s head as the lovely Hazel tugged forlornly on Darnel’s coat and he cast her aside. “Wait a second,” she said. “This is A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“Well, it’s what would eventually become A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Like most of Shakespeare’s best plays, it started out as a faerie story.”
“No way!”
Tamani shushed her gently as a few Fall faeries glanced their way. “Honestly,” Tamani continued, his voice low and soft, “did you think he came up with Romeo and Juliet all by himself? A thousand years ago it was Rhoeo and Jasmine, but Shakespeare’s version is a passable retelling.”
Laurel’s eyes stayed locked on the four faeries dancing their dizzying chase. “How did Shakespeare come to know the faerie stories?” She glanced up at Tamani. “He was human, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, yes.” Tamani chuckled quietly. “He lived in a time when the rulers of Avalon still kept an eye on human affairs. They were impressed by his plays about the Kings—Lear and Richard, I believe. Deadly dull stories, but his writing was magnificent. So the King had him brought here to give him some fresh story lines for his beautiful words. And they hoped he would correct some of the errors in faerie mythology. A Midsummer Night’s Dream was his first play after coming to Avalon, followed soon after by The Tempest. But after a while he resented that the King would not let him come and go as he pleased. So he left and didn’t come back. And as revenge, he didn’t put any more faeries into his plays. He made them all human and claimed them as his own.”
