The Elixir

A Cozy Fantasy Short Story

Author’s note: I’ve been in the process of reworking a few older stories—this is one of them. I’ve always loved the idea of a fantasy story based around a dinner party or tea party, and when I read The Smith of Wootton Major by Tolkien for Kelly | themiddlepage’s Year of Tolkien book club, it turned out to be the perfect source of Faery inspiration I needed to encourage me to finish this up!

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Etterfly could not allow herself to be distracted. She flitted about her cramped, lantern-lit kitchen, cluttered with cookbooks and spellbooks, cauldrons and clay bowls, and potted plants of all kinds, ducking under stems of goldenrod and mallow hanging from low, wooden beams that crisscrossed the thatched roof above her. Somewhere within these rounded walls of her humble home, a toad could be heard croaking.

Come on, you old hag, she thought to herself. You will find a way out of this.

The old grimoire opened with a thud and she leafed through its pages, tucking frazzled strands of hair behind her ear.

This is what you get for not minding your circle. A golem of all things! Of course, what the witch was referring to was the mass of rock that had taken up residence beneath her home, carried her away over the mountains to the Sisters know where, and had now gotten itself tangled in brambles, then promptly fallen asleep.

She stopped two-thirds of the way through the grimoire, running her finger down the page as she muttered the recipe aloud.

The Brew of Banebramble. It was the most complicated and elaborate elixir she had ever yet attempted to make, and the only thing strong enough that might give her a chance to save her home from the golem and the thorns that ensnared it.

At first, she’d expected to wait for the golem to wake up and politely ask the creature to, “Please, put her home down!”

But the vines had already grown several inches since last night, and now threatened to cover the walls and doors, trapping her within.

She huffed, blowing a strand of hair from her face, and thought of being free again, of watching the village folk pass to and fro once more past her kitchen window.

Bouldran, as she’d decided to call the beast, didn’t seem to mind their predicament much; the golem had, after all, wandered into a berry patch with one purpose in mind, and would’ve been content to gorge on sweet blackberries if not for the creeping vines.

What’s more, she’d seen small, white orbs of light bobbing out in the unfamiliar forest at the edge of the berry patch the night before. Then today, she was sure she’d caught the flapping of small, colorful flags in the breeze, low to the ground and hidden amongst the distant hillocks and exposed tree roots.

Thankfully, for the time being she could still get in and out of her front door, which meant she had precious little time left to gather ingredients for the elixir that would free her.

And midnight, the most potent hour of the day, was but several short hours away. Her cauldron would then be at its most powerful. She looked at the ingredients laid out before her: two great horned owl feathers, ash from a fire of oak logs, eye of newt, and—

Her eyes fell on the empty spot where she’d placed the best carrot from her garden earlier.

Oh, she clicked her tongue, where did I put that?

Frantically she searched around—under her hat, behind the teacup that had become a makeshift planter in which to grow more thyme, in the brass kettle, under the grimoire, but it was nowhere to be found.

Blasted root vegetable.

She was about to put on her boots and go get another from the root cellar—any witch worth her salt kept a root cellar in a nearby pocket dimension—when she heard the distinct sound of a carrot snapping between teeth.

Two large, rather rabbit-like front teeth.

“Hopper!” she shrieked, as she ran into her sewing room. “No!”

There, she found her familiar, Hopper, seated on her overstuffed footstool, a half-eaten carrot clutched between his white-furred paws.

Hopper, mid-bite, glanced up at her through wire-rimmed glasses, a sheepish expression in his bright red eyes. “Sorry, Ettie. I got hungry…”

Etterfly sighed. “It’s alright, Hopper. I’ll go get another from the cellar. Just, please,” she paused, smoothing the tense lines of her face, “don’t eat this one this time.”

“Oh!” he gasped, holding the gnawed vegetable out before him. “This one was for the elixir? How nitwitted of me!” Hopper, quite embarrassed now, hastily shoved it in the pocket of his vest. “Let me help you, I can watch the cauldron, or crush the mustard seed, or—”

Etterfly considered him. “Well, I suppose maybe you could watch the cauldron while I go fetch another carrot and some willow leaf.”

“Okay!” he said, hopping up excitedly and bounding into the kitchen.

Etterfly crossed through the floor-length mirror hanging in the hall to her root cellar. She shivered as she appeared in the earthen room.

She didn’t think she would ever get used to traveling through that mirror. Perusing the shelves briefly, she grabbed the second best carrot she could find and crossed back through.

“Now,” she breathed, a bit dizzy, handing the carrot to Hopper. “Don’t eat this one.”

“And don’t stir it too much,” Etterfly said as she slipped on her boots, a bit worn through in the toes, and made her way outside to the old willow tree she’d spied across the glade.

She opened the door and jumped from a greater height than she would’ve liked over the great spiked vines to a grassy patch below. High above, clouds floated peacefully by.

All was quiet, and Etterfly wondered just how far from the village Bouldran had carried them. Tromping through the overgrown brush, she finally made it to the willow and began plucking every third leaf from the lowest branch, exactly as the recipe instructed, stuffing them into the pouch at her hip.

She walked around the tree so that Bouldran and her hut were in front of her now, the golem lying in the grass, snoring away. Vines were beginning to weave their way through the old, worn stone bricks, and on the tile roof a crooked black chimney puffed away with the vapors from her cauldron.

Curiously, the vines that had begun snaking over the structure had yet to grow over the windows and doors. She smiled at the warm, inviting glow emanating from within, imagining Hopper on his footstool, watching over the cauldron and singing to himself.

She was enjoying the serenity of the night before her, the moon rising early in the twilit sky, a dusting of mushroom caps through the grass. One mushroom in particular caught her eye, for it almost seemed to glow white.

Amanita virosa? she wondered.

Upon examining it more closely, though, the glow appeared to radiate from it, reflecting light against her hand like she imagined a queen’s sceptre might, or one of the Fates’ halos.

She looked downwind and found another, a few feet away.

Etterfly followed the trail of strange mushrooms as if in a trance—deeper and deeper into the woods they led her, until she began seeing smaller, twinkling lights that blinked in and out, nearly sparkle-like, making her wonder if she’d truly seen them to begin with or if she just needed a nice, long nap.

It seemed that with every step she took, the light shifted, until a great, hazy light began to grow in the distance.

These were no longer mushrooms she was on the trail of, but something else entirely…

Beyond the furthest tree trunks, deep in the mist, she watched a parade of cloaked, glowing figures. Overhead, the grove’s canopy was thick, sending a hush over the land the same as a fresh-fallen snow.

The figures wore their hair long, and their cloaks were delicate as butterfly wings that moved gracefully with their swaying movements. Indeed, they were dancing with a grace she’d never before seen, bowing their fingertips to their extended feet, twirling and shifting rhythmically in a circle. Laughter and music drifted to her on the cool air.

Etterfly gasped in awe and wonder, and one of the figures turned, their pale, nearly colorless eyes meeting hers.

She stumbled backward, embarrassed at being caught intruding, and ran toward the glade in the direction she had come. She thought to follow her footprints, for surely she had depressed the long grass where she tread, but all around her the land was untouched.

Etterfly only made it so far before a tree root caught the tip of her boot and she fell to the dirt, catching herself in the hollow of a great oak tree.

“Excuse me!” a small voice shouted. “This is my home!”

She looked around for the source of the shouting, but saw no one.

In all directions, the forest was empty.

“Down here, you dolt!”

Just to the left of her hand, which braced the cold soil, was a rather angry looking hedgehog.

“Hm? Oh!” she exclaimed, scrambling away. Beneath her hand, lay the crushed remnants of a wooden chair. “Ow…” she winced, rubbing her palm.

As she looked around, she realized the entire hollow was decorated with small wooden furniture—tables, chairs, a shelf with acorn cups and bowls, and little paper lanterns.

“What if I had been sitting there!” the hedgehog scolded.

“I’m deeply sorry! I didn’t mean to! I was running because—because I saw… well, I don’t know… in the woods.” She grimaced, knowing how ridiculous she must sound.

The hedgehog looked her up and down. “Ah,” she began, dusting herself off. “You saw the Tall Ones, did you?”

“The Tall Ones?”

“Oh, yes! They’re dancing with the moon!” The hedgehog broke out into song, sashaying about amongst the broken pieces of her home. “Although, you’re a Tall One too, so you needn’t be so scared of them!”

“I see…” Etterfly said, a mystified smile crossing her face. “Listen, could I make this up to you? My cottage is stuck in the brambles, just that way,” she said, pointing. “At least I think it’s that way.” She looked around, biting her nail.

“Oh, the blackberry brambles? Just follow the birch trees, they’ll lead you straight to it!”

Etterfly breathed a sigh of relief, nodding. “Thank you.” She swept up the broken pieces of the chair into her hand. “Won’t you come for tea? And perhaps, I might have some spare dollhouse furniture in storage somewhere that you could have.”

“Dollhouse… furniture?” the hedgehog asked.

“Erm, you’ll see what I mean when you get there. It’s the little stone cottage, the one on top of the golem, surrounded by thorns, you absolutely can’t miss it!” she said, standing up and dusting off her skirts.

“Well, alright, Miss… what should I call you?”

“Please call me Etterfly.”

“Beryl,” said the hedgehog, one going to cross her heart.

“Beryl.” Etterfly nodded, before suddenly remembering how much time she must’ve wasted, getting distracted by mushrooms. “I really must get back. Sorry again!” she called over her shoulder.

Etterfly ran all the way back to the cottage. Each time she worried she was lost, she would look for that white bark in the distance like a guiding star, just as the hedgehog had said. All the while, the witch couldn’t help but imagine what might happen to an ordinary mortal in woods like these, one who could not understand the forest’s animals, and ask them for help.

She burst in the door, running into the kitchen to find Hopper dutifully watching the elixir bubble away.

“You’re back!” Hopper pulled a pocket watch out of his vest. “What took so long? Willow tree not a willow tree after all?”

“Something like that,” she sighed. “I think we’re in a Faerie glade, Hopper.”

“A Faerie glade? Truly! I’ve always wanted to see a Faerie!”

“Careful, Hopper. They’re beautiful, yes, but often engage in a fair bit of trickery.”

“And witches don’t?” he eyed her.

A great belly laugh escaped Etterfly. “Fair point.”

Hopper smiled, a big one, with his front teeth, that she so adored. “Need anything else?”

She smiled warmly at him. “Just your company would be fine, Hopper.”

Hopper grinned back, and leapt up on the counter to watch her prepare the ingredients.

Everything would need to be perfect from here on out—each ingredient would need to be prepared just so, the cauldron kept at a constant, steady temperature.

The two of them chatted on and off about what the usual villagers who came to her for potion or poultice might be doing back in the bustling hamlet they’d come from, as Etterfly crushed seeds and soaked the willow leaves. She didn’t particularly mind this backwater, she supposed—on the contrary, she had all the access to ingredients she could need, and plenty of time to work on spells and recipes out here.

She was just about to toss in the owl feathers when she heard a loud knock at her door.

“Oh! I didn’t expect them so soon,” she muttered. She checked the base of water, honey, and yeast brewing away in the cauldron and considered the timing of the elixir in her head for a moment. Another knock sounded, and her mouth bracketed into a tense line. I can probably leave this for a minute or two before the next ingredient has to go in.

“Who is it?”

“We have a guest!” she said, smiling, though she could only manage a tired one by this point. “Hopper, watch this, please?”

“On it, Ettie!”

She trudged through the short hall to the door and swung open the door.

But there was no one there.

“I could’ve sworn I—” she huffed. “I do not have time for this!”

She slammed the door, returning to the kitchen in a tizzy.

“What was that all about?” Hopper asked as she looked through bottles and jars, clearly annoyed.

She quickly eyed the ingredients and glanced at the clock, then tossed the owl feathers in. “There was no one there! Impeccable timing, that,” she said. “You heard the knock too, right?”

Hopper nodded, and she turned the hourglass on the windowsill.

“Maybe an acorn bounced off the roof?” he offered.

“Maybe, if we weren’t in the middle of a clearing.”

Hopper looked up. “Mm, that would help with that theory, wouldn’t it?”

When the hourglass ran out, Etterfly added the ashes and ran her finger over her recipe book, checking everything twice. Her hut began to fill with an aroma of roasted apricots, just like the recipe said it would.

She allowed herself a sigh of relief. “Now I just need to add the roughage at the correct times and prepare the second round of ingredients, and we’ll be free of this place by the morning!”

“That’s if you can convince Bouldran to leave behind a steady supply of snacks,” Hopper added.

“Oh, that won’t be a problem, will it, Bouldran?” she said aloud, reaching down to pat the floor of the hut. In response, the whole house shook as the golem mumbled something, still mostly asleep.

The two of them were still giggling when a copper mug clattered off the shelf behind them, nearly knocking a full mortar of nutmeg into the cauldron.

Etterfly gasped. “What the—?”

“There!” cried Hopper, and her head whipped to the other end of the kitchen, where a small, twinkling light was darting about amongst her herb garden.

“A sprite!” she shrieked. “How did it get in?”

Etterfly tried to throw a tea towel over it, but it was too fast, darting about the room, swinging from the lamp, and flitting about between the cups and jars like a fieldmouse.

The knocking! she realized. I can’t believe I was so foolish!

As quickly as the sprite had set upon them, it was hidden again, but Etterfly knew it was biding its time until it could bestow further mischief on the brew.

Perhaps making some tea will distract it into experimenting with something besides the Brew of Banebramble?!

She put the kettle on.

Etterfly leaned down, brushing Hopper’s ears back and holding his gaze. “Hopper, I need you to watch the cauldron very closely, alright? And if you see the sprite again, tell me as soon as you do.”

He nodded gravely.

Swiftly, Etterfly chopped the greens off the carrot and gave them to Hopper. “Here.”

“You spoil me,” he said with a bow of his head, and she smiled.

She fed another log into the fire beneath her cauldron and began the second round of preparations. The ingredients had to be added in a different order this time, so she laid them out carefully in the prescribed order. No sooner had she poured the remaining mustard seed into her mortar and pestle than another knock nearly shook the door off its frame.

“I can’t believe this,” she groaned.

“Would you like me to answer it?” Hopper asked.

“No, no, it’s alright,” she said, trying her best not to sound irritated.

Etterfly rushed to the door, swinging it open with force this time. When she spoke, her voice was anything but measured. “Who’s there?” she called out into the night.

A familiar voice answered her from below, sounding quite close, as close as her doorstep.

“It’s me, Miss Etterfly!”

“Oh!” she started, glancing down, but her gaze was captured by the figures crowding the glade leading up to her door.

Is that… a unicorn?

It was. A unicorn was pawing the dirt just beyond the brambles with its pure white hoof. She could hardly tear her eyes away from the majesty of such a sight.

“We come bearing gifts!” Beryl cried.

“What?” she said, looking down finally, desperately confused. “Gifts?”

“As a token of our gratitude,” said a badger off to her right. “For inviting us to tea!”

She knew her face wore a dumbfounded expression, but she couldn’t help it. “Us?”

She thought of the elixir, and the mustard seed that needed to go in not a moment too late—

“Token of your…” her voice trailed off and she watched, in horror, as Beryl and her friends pushed past her and paraded through the door into her home. “Wait!”

Several other hedgehogs, a family of foxes, a band of goblins, and other creatures began passing by her. Even, it seemed, a ghost or two.

She thought back to the ancient mountain barrows she’d heard talk of back in the village.

Etterfly tried to make sense of what was happening, but then a satyr passed by, and some gnomes, and more sprites and the Tall Ones, who, it appeared, had brought the unicorn with them.

She hurried in after them. “Be careful!” All around the small kitchen and sitting room, already full to bursting, they placed their gifts—homemade candles, a white cake decorated with toadstools, shortbread carefully wrapped in leaves, bouquets of flowers, a jar of honey, two wheels of cheese.

In the kitchen, she could hear Hopper yelling over the din. “Watch it—Ettie!”

The cauldron!

Etterfly rushed past several of the unexpected visitors into the kitchen, where she found three of the gnomes standing over her cauldron. One gnome wearing a pointed green hat dipped a finger in and tasted it.

“Yuck! Not to my taste, certainly.”

“What d’you think it is?” said another.

The one who’d tasted it shrugged. “Needs citrus.”

“Stop!” the witch yelled. The gnomes started, falling silent. “Please, this is a very important elixir, and—Hopper, what time is it?”

Hopper pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the clock face. His eyes widened. “Twenty seconds and half past.”

“No! The mustard seed! The willow leaves!”

Etterfly hurriedly glanced at the recipe, then gathered up the leaves and hastily threw them in.

“Maybe it will be fine,” she whispered, more in an attempt to convince herself than anything else.

At first, it seemed as though the cauldron had accepted the ingredients, but then it blew out a puff of sweet-smelling smoke, and the liquid turned from a honey color to an odd shade of light green.

“Oh, dear! No, no, no,” she whined. “Wh–what’s wrong?” She flipped to the back of the grimoire where explanations of common mistakes in the recipes were listed.

The gnome with the red hat sniffed it, then took another taste. “My, that is delicious!”

“What?” she said, her head whipping back to him.

“Oh, yes. You’ve made some of the best mead I’ve ever tasted!”

“Mead?!”

The satyr squeezed in the doorway of the already-too-full kitchen. “Did someone say mead?”

“No,” Etterfly breathed. “I can fix this!”

“What’s to fix?” said the other gnome, wearing a long brown cloak. “Now it’s a party!”

The other gnomes nodded their agreement, and the satyr grabbed them each mugs and teacups off a nearby shelf.

“Everyone, you have to taste this!” the green-hatted gnome called out. “This is going to go great with Passiflora’s strawberry cake!”

A ghost entered the kitchen through the wall and produced a ghostly flask from his coat, which one of the gnomes hastily filled from the cauldron with her soup ladle.

“Oh, look! Tea!” Beryl said, delighted, as she climbed up to turn the flame off beneath the kettle.

Etterfly collapsed into a chair. “Oh, Hopper, what are we going to do?”

Hopper studied her for a moment, then smiled his toothy smile. “Well, we could stay, couldn’t we?”

She pondered the idea for a moment. Even though they had barged into her home, she had to admit Beryl and the forestfolk here were some of the kindest she’d met in a long while, and it seemed she would have plenty of business, if the number of creatures at this party was anything to go off. Maybe she’d open a meadery.

“Well…” she trailed off.

It was then that one of the Tall Ones approached her. “Amusing as it was, I hope we did not frighten you too terribly. Earlier”—an elegant hand gestured to the window—”in the forest. It is so rare that anyone ventures as far in as you. I am Passiflora,” said the faerie, handing her a saucer with a perfect piece of cake on it. “Here. My specialty.”

“Oh,” Etterfly said, still a bit awestruck. “Thank you.”

Hopper returned at her side, carrying a stack of cups, and began handing them around.

“Of course, it made sense once Beryl told us you were one of the Third Sister’s.” The faerie took her hand.

“You know the Sisters?”

“To Ettie and Hopper!” shouted the gnomes, raising a toast, their mugs now full. The house shook with the roar of the creatures’ cheers.

In the hall, a merry tune broke out, and Passiflora pulled Etterfly up, her mouth still full of strawberry cream. She felt like she had two left feet dancing beside the faerie, but they seemed to have enough grace and instinct for the two of them.

Etterfly leaned down to Hopper as she twirled past. “Maybe it’s time we put down roots.”

Hopper grinned, and began pouring drinks for the rest of their guests.