Balthazar's Best Friend

     ***

     Five years ago:

     I was only a little Faerie then, a small, gentle thing with fluttering wings full of Faerie Dust. I still remember that day, of course – how could I forget it? My mother, the beautiful, proud Air Faerie she was, loved and adored, watched me from the window of our small hut with a smile on her face. I remember playing in the clouds, the gentle tickle of them on my skin when I sank into one.

     Of course, I was careful – exceptionally so. Every young Faerie has heard stories of the Faerie children that played in the clouds and then fell, their wings giving out. Those with a watchful parent or those who were lucky enough to fall at a busy time were saved, and returned, shaken and terrified but otherwise unharmed. Others fell a long way before they were rescued – and some were not rescued at all, but instead plummeted to Neopia.

     That was the reason huts above the city were coveted. The city bustled with Neopet and owner and Faerie alike; in a crowd like that, there was someone bound to notice any Faerie falling, and even if she went unnoticed, she might be saved simply by landing on a huge crowd. The lots on the city cloud or below the city were more dangerous, only for those Faeries who could not afford the expensive huts.

     That’s where we lived. We had enough money, but my mom was a true Faerie – generous and compassionate, she put others before us, and gave to those with less. A young Neopet wearing the Potato Sack got some clothes and money; a Neopet staring longingly at the Faerie Burgers got food; even the rich Neopets wanting to be painted Faerie got a Paint Brush.

     Because of this tendency to give even when we had little, we had to make do with less. On top, my mother was popular, and we entertained guests often – our house was full of her friends or my teachers, or even a poor, tattered Faerie without a place to live.

     I could have played for hours in the clouds around our house. My mom and her friends would usually come out and sip Faerie Fizz in the sunlight, watching me with tender expressions. My mother was attentive to the extreme, never taking an eye off me. Her watch was not possessive or frightening in any way; instead it was full of love, making me know that I belonged here, that I was loved, that her heart would shatter if anything happened to me. And that was the best feeling in the world.

     On that day – that horrible day, burned into my memory as something to carry for my life – it was almost evening. I had been outside for nearly a full day, ignoring my homework like any other Faerie still in school, and my mother had been doing her work inside, facing the window. The area where I played had been secured a thousand times over in every way my mother or any of her friends knew; I felt safe, confident I would not fall.

     Of course, I had not accounted for any other sort of danger.

     It happened when someone came and knocked on the door once. My mom turned away, only for a minute, to go and answer them. I continued to play, joyfully oblivious to the creature sneaking up behind me...

     Suddenly, a shadow was over me, turning evening into night. I started, frightened – remember, I was so little then – and then, everything disappeared.

     It was not the type of disappearing that occurred when one fainted or something of the sort. No, I could smell, breathe, see, but everything was dark around me, and a scratchy material rubbed against by skin, encircling me. The air was stuffy and thick, making it hard to breathe and the dull, dark, brown of the fabric was startlingly dark.

     I bobbed up and down, matching the movement of some unknown creature. It took a while for my situation to truly register with me, and by then it was too late: Balthazar held my struggling form in his strong hands, and put me into a bottle. With a laugh that resembled a cackle in a deep note, full of mirth, he put in the cork, enclosing me.

     I knew of the Bottled Faeries; on more than one occasion I had seen my mother free one. That is something one never forgets... seeing your own kind’s frightened, tired faces pressed up against the glass, their haunted eyes looking at you pleadingly... and then seeing them burst free, spreading their wings, twirling in the air with pure delight. Hearing their thanks, their promises, was nothing compared to seeing them fly away, full of joy, free at long last.

     The flip side was the Faeries Balthazar decided to keep, and the ones that fell into human hands, put in galleries and sold in shops. Of course, some humans chose to free some Faeries – seeking, no doubt, the blessing freed Faeries granted their pets. But those were few: only the truly lucky ones were released.

     Somehow, I had a feeling I wouldn’t be a lucky one. Perhaps it was Balthazar’s horrible laugh, circling around me, sealing my fate, or maybe it was the possessive gleam in his canine eyes as he stowed me in the bag...

     Today:

     I am thinking of the days when I was first caught, when I hoped I would not be one of the Faeries Balthazar sold to Neopia, sent from shop to shop in my life.

     Now, however, I am thinking differently. It would have been a change of scenery; even if I had to wake up in a bottle, perhaps I would not wake up in the same place every morning, not see that horrifying Lupe’s face looking at me, not hear him: “Things look different from inside a jar, don't they?"

     “Things look different from inside a jar, don’t they?” he asks, sneering slightly. This is his greeting every morning.

     I shrug. At first, I was full of comments, some cheeky, some submissive, but most not very kind – but I learned soon who had the power here. Now I just go along with what Balthazar tells me. I listen to him go on and on about his prowess and skill at Faerie-catching. I listen to him calculate how much money he made that night, and I offer compliments when necessary.

     I hate it, of course. But I have discovered that listening to him actually benefits me...

     Unlike most of the Faeries Balthazar catches, I haven’t been put on a shelf or sold. I’ve also never been rescued like some have been. No, I am always with Balthazar – quite literally. I’m sure you have heard of his bag. Legend has it a Faerie made it for him... but I can’t believe a Faerie would ever do something kind for this monster. It is made of a sort of indestructible plastic. In it, he carries the Faeries he caught that night, and a sack for carrying newly-caught Faeries away in.

     Before, that’s all he ever kept. For the last four years – ever since I began co-operating with him – he has kept me in the bag as well.

     The plastic is translucent, and for that I am thankful. I can see the world around me: Faerieland, of course. Usually Balthazar stays at the fringes of Faerieland, where the watch is weaker, but I have caught snatches of Faerie City, of the Palace – once I even thought I saw my home.

     On these excursions, I always keep an eye out for my mother. It has been five years, and anything could have happened during that time, but I know I will recognize her when I find her. And I must believe that I will find her.

     “So, I’m going to catch some more Faeries tonight,” Balthazar says conversationally.

     I say nothing, only look at him dully. My wings ache painfully from being folded for the last five years.

     “You’ll be coming with me, of course,” he tells me.

     I point at the cork above me with a slender finger. This is what I do every time I want to speak – Balthazar can’t hear me through the glass. At first, he was hesitant to take out the cork for even a second, but after several of my attempts to get away, he realized he has incredible power over me. Now he does, but only so I can talk. He never lets me out of the bottle, but I think it is a miracle that he even takes out the cork.

     He comes to where my bottle his. His paws, surprisingly deft for their size and strength, slowly take out the cork.

     “Why?” I ask.

     “Why what?”

     “Why,” I say slowly, “do you take me with you every single time?”

     “Oh,” Balthazar says in surprise. Of course, this is not the question he was expecting. “Well... you’re exceptionally powerful. Exceptionally bright. Worth a fortune to me, so I can’t exactly give you a chance to run away, can I?”

     I sigh. I know he is not telling the truth. “I can’t run away,” I tell him. “When the cork is in, I’m powerless, and you know it.”

     “Well,” he begins slowly, searching for words, “Some of your kind sometimes come here and they rescue some of you. That could happen. You never know.”

     “So? You can catch fifty more Faeries. You’re always boasting about how powerful you are... if I get away, you can make up for it, can’t you? Or is it all big talk?” The instant the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. Balthazar does not appreciate rudeness... and, sure enough, his eyes narrow dangerously and he jams the cork back in the bottle with unnecessary force.

     “Just stay there,” he mutters, and prowls away.

     The sun is high in the sky; there are still a few hours until Balthazar leaves. Until then, he lets me do whatever I want. Although, there is nothing to do. My existence is mind-numbingly boring; the limits while in a bottle are extreme. I have come to look forward to the nights Balthazar goes out to catch more Faeries.

     But that’s just the way it is. For the first year, I was recalcitrant, unwilling to co-operate, horrified by the thought of any other Faerie going through this. Now, it’s just part of my life.

     The day passes slowly, each second, each minute, each hour blurring into the next. Eventually, darkness settles upon us. Balthazar returns, and I settle myself in for any other night out.

     But this night, something is different. Balthazar avoids looking me in the eye and he picks my bottle up with unusual gentleness. Instead of dropping me into the bag, he slowly places me in. “Let’s get this over with,” he mutters, and then hoists the bag onto his shoulder and sets off at a brisk pace.

     Let’s get this over with? In my five years with Balthazar, I have never found anything he enjoyed more than catching Faeries, except, perhaps, the money he made from selling them. But today he seems reluctant, and he keeps shooting me furtive glances, seemingly distracted. Another first.

     I simply cross my arms and look away. A silly, defiant gesture. Normally, he wouldn’t mind, but Balthazar’s face falls just slightly when he sees it. He turns away quickly, obviously hoping I haven’t noticed.

     He really is distracted tonight. I’m sitting down; the cool glass is uncomfortable beneath me, but my legs are tired. I resolutely look away from Balthazar, still upset from our earlier exchange, but it is difficult not to peek every once in a while. Every time, he is looking at me with an unfathomable, completely un-Balthazarlike expression. A couple of times our eyes meet, and he looks at me carefully before I turn away.

     He surprises me when he runs past a couple of perfect prospects, sticking to the shadows and not making any movement to grab them. I notice he looks at me quickly every time he does this, but I keep my expression neutral.

     Suddenly, a sound escapes him; a gasp of surprise, of pleasure, gasp that can only mean one thing. An amazing Faerie.

     I strain to see the Faerie, my heart pumping. I hope she gets away, notices Balthazar coming as I never did... but of course, she does not.

     As he holds her up, gripping her firmly, I get a good look at her face. “NO!” I scream. Not noticing, Balthazar pulls out the brown bag. “No! NO!” I yell again, pounding the glass with my small fists. Screaming and hitting, I try to tip over the bottle...

     It works. He turns to me. The Faerie struggles in his hand, but he holds her firmly. I pound the cork.

     “Not now,” he snarls, turning back to the Faerie.

     “NO! NO! STOP!” I screech, putting all my force into pounding on the glass. “Stop! STOP! PLEASE!”

     With a dramatic sigh, Balthazar makes sure the Faerie can’t get away and pulls the cork out so he can hear what I’m saying.

     “No! Not her!”

     The Faerie stops struggling as she recognizes me. Her eyes widen, her mouth forms my name with a gentle caress... “Nereia...”

     “What?” Balthazar asks.

     “Not her, please! I’ll do anything!”

     “What’s so special about this Faerie?” he demands.

     “Please! PLEASE! I’ve been good, just please, please, please, not her, not her. Please.”

     “Nereia...” my mother whispers.

     “Please,” I plead softly.

     Balthazar surprises me again. He sets my mother down on the ground, and she flutters closer to my bottle. “You look surprised,” Balthazar states.

     “Well, of course I am,” I mutter. “I didn’t think you’d listen to me. Why did you?”

     “Because... because...” Balthazar lets out a roar of frustration, and my mother cringes slightly. I’m too used to it to care. “Because... you’re my only friend, Nereia. There. I said it.” He growls low in his throat and turns away.

     “Friend? That’s why you keep me locked up in a bottle?”

     “I... don’t exactly have many friends, okay? I don’t know what to do. And my entire reputation would be ruined if anyone found out. Now go. That’s your mom, right? So just go, now...”

     His words rush through my mind. It takes me a long time to realize what he is saying, by which time my mother floats beside my bottle, holding out her hands. Slowly, not breathing, as if afraid that the simple action would make Balthazar change his mind, I inch out of the bottle. My wings are unaccustomed to the movement, but I relish the chance to stretch my body. “Ahh...”

     Balthazar doesn’t look at me. “Bye,” he mutters sullenly, and then my brain comprehends everything else he said.

     Me? His only friend? ME? A Faerie? He had an odd way of showing it, but I know how hard it had been for him just to admit it to me alone. Unbidden, a tear escapes my eye.

     “Nereia?” My mother says my name as a question, looking at my still form and to Balthazar and back again.

     I flutter over to where Balthazar stands. I put one hand on his giant head; he jumps away.

     “Your only friend?” I whisper. He doesn’t reply, but his earlier confession is confirmation enough. I turn halfway to my mother; she looks confused as she looks at me carefully. Then, understanding brightens her eyes – she knows what I am going to do before I do.

     “No less than I would have expected of you,” she murmurs, and comes forward to hug me. I try to put my apologies into that hug, and when we pull away, both of us are crying.

     “I’m sorry,” I say.

     “Don’t be,” my mother tells me, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. “You’ll have to come visit sometimes, though.”

     “Of course,” I promise.

     Balthazar is watching, confusion clear in his eyes. Sometimes I can’t believe how slow he is. Instead of wasting time on an explanation, I simply go back into my bottle. “Now put the cork back in.”

     My mom is smiling. Balthazar is not. “What?” he demands. “I’m letting you go!”

     “Yes,” I agree amiably, “but I don’t want to go.”

     “Don’t want to... But you’re a Faerie?”

     “So? Now put the cork in and let’s get going. But let me make one thing clear... you’ve got to let me out during the days. It gets cramped in that bottle all day long. Deal?”

     And now understanding brightens his eyes. “Deal.”

     ***

     Just go look at the entry about Balthazar in the Neopedia. See him holding a frightened Air Faerie? Now go look at his TCG card. Look really carefully... see the Bottled Air Faerie there?

     Yes, that’s me. Don’t get fooled, though; I’m not actually scared of him anymore. We just figured pictures of Balthazar, famed for terrorising and bottling Faeries, holding a happy Faerie wouldn’t help his whole frightening, fierce reputation.

     Just... do me a favour. Don’t tell Balthazar I told you any of this. He’ll probably think I’m out to ruin his reputation! So many years with that Lupe and he still doesn’t the concept of loyalty... then again, friendship was hard enough for him to understand.

The End

Hope you all enjoyed reading~