Beans

A Short Story from the Maven Fairy Godmother universe

Fractured Fairy Tales are my favorite, which is how this one came to be. There are two novels in this universe and another in progress.
https://books2read.com/ap/n0eLmw/Charlotte-Henley-Babb

Middle-Aged Maven’s Adventures as a Fairy Godmother

Beans for Dinner

Fairy Godmother Maven Morrigan started her morning with an itch in her Bump of Direction. Her intuition sounded yellow alert, but as she scanned her immediate surroundings and her previous clients, she found only the normal chaos of living. She scanned again, as her boss Fiona, Fairy Godmother Superior, was off on sabbatical. Maven had promised not to cause any big problems while she was away.

At least, she planned not to be caught.

Then her wand vibrated and beeped . . . a wish being made. Bump of Direction still didn't like it, but she heard the whine of one young Gladys making a wish.

"I hate beans! I wish I could throw them out the window, and grow a big beanstalk to the land of the giants."

Living alone in a hovel teetering on the verge of collapse, at the edge of the forest, Gladys squatted on land that no one cared about, surviving on a bit of a garden and lots of foraging. She dreamed of living in a nice house without always scrambling for food. She wanted someone else to pick, string, dry, and boil the beans that made up most of her diet, without fatback to season them, or bear fat, rabbit fat, or rat fat, for that matter.

Maven could relate. She'd been living in her car when she got the fairy godmother gig.

"This-s-s one is high maintenance," hissed her esoteric familiar, the Serpent, its forked tongue tapping her shoulder, manifesting only its slit-pupil eyes and fanged smile. "S-s-sure s-s-she's worth it?"

Maven remembered her last day in Mundane, living in her car, trading the last of her favorite CDs for a gallon's worth of gas money. No matter what trouble she'd gotten herself into in Faery, it was better than Mundane. "She'll get only what she asks for. Fiona can't complain much about that."

"Yeah. Right." The Serpent's hissing chuckle faded with its physical form.

Maven had done more with less, but she sent her listening spell into the future to see what might happen if she did give the girl what she asked for. Sure enough, she saw a nicely furnished house and a woman dancing with a man, both of them dressed like royalty. Her boss, Fiona, always liked the happy ending, so Maven decided to go with it, beanstalk and all.

She also decided to go along and see how it worked out, since she imagined that not every giant at the top of any random beanstalk had goods stolen from the impoverished family below. Gladys might need a bit of help, and while the giants had their own magic, Maven thought they might not see her flitting about, if she were careful to be invisible.

In a cascade of sparkles, full-sized, glowing in mauve gossamer with large dragonfly wings, Maven appeared in what served as Gladys's kitchen, the end of the hut with a hearth and an iron pot suspended on a hook just above the embers of a fire.

Not the poor but proud type, the place was dirty, like Gladys, whose hair was matted and her clothing unwashed. Gladys sat on a stump, grasping a wooden bowl and a wooden spoon as if she didn’t hold tight, a demon might quickly come by and steal them from her. Her bed was nothing more than a pile of leaves and straw covered with a ragged piece of cloth.

Gladys wasted little time in being surprised, but gave Maven the stink eye. "Fairy godmother, right? Took you long enough."

Maven reminded herself that even ugly stepsisters had wishes to be granted. "So, Gladys, are you certain that a beanstalk is what you want?" She always asked for clarification, in case the client wised up enough to think about the wish. The Rules of Wishing prevented suggesting something more practical, like a new house, a bag of gold, a handsome prince, or even gainful employment. When indulging in “wishful” thinking, why not go for broke?

"That's what I said. A beanstalk, so I can go up and steal from the giants, and be rich."

"Have you considered the possibility that the giants might not like having their stuff stolen?"

"Who cares about them?" Gladys shrugged. "They have more than they need. What little bit I get won't even be missed."

"Then I guess you'd better throw your supper out the window, or better yet, over there," Maven uttered, pointing to the collapsed corner of the house, "where there won't be any more damage."

Gladys took her wooden bowl outside and dumped it on the compost heap – mostly leaves, not much in the way of scraps. "You can make cooked beans grow?"

"You might add a few that are not cooked, if you'd feel better."

Gladys tossed a handful of dried beans on the heap, not planting them. "Now what? How long does it take? I'm ready now."

"You might want to pack some food and something warm to wear. It's likely to be cold on the way up." Maven had no idea what season it might be in the land of the giants, as Faery lands followed whatever internal logic they had.

This was based mostly on what the locals believed and expected, like the northern and southern hemispheres in Mundane, where Christmas was cold in one place and hot in another, but without a clear map to know what to expect.

Gladys shook out her ragged bed sheet and tied it around her waist. She didn't have anything else to take.

Maven focused on the energy of the compost, its rich dirt and fat earthworms busily making soil out of dead stuff. The ecological damage to the land from a giant beanstalk crossed her mind, but out here on the edge of the forest, the impact should be minimal.

A beanstalk like this didn't have anything to climb on, like a corn stalk, so she helped it braid itself, each bean making its own stalk and reinforcing the others. The braided stalks and leaves made plenty of hand and foot holds. If Gladys fell, then it would be a sad story, but not Maven's doing. If the client died because of her own choices, especially after being warned, it was on her, not Maven. Fiona called that a “teachable moment,” like the version of Goldilocks where the bears ate her – Grimm to say the least.

***

Maven still decided to go along, not that she wanted to be an accessory before or after the fact, yet she hoped her client would change her mind and make a more sensible wish.

The trek up the beanstalk was arduous. Maven flew invisibly behind her and once or twice kept her from falling. She felt protective of her clients and wanted them to get what they wanted, no matter how larcenous.

Maven was nearly exhausted from so much continuous flying. She poofed the final few yards to wait for her client. She checked out the landscape as she rested because her Bump of Direction sounded its warning bells loud enough almost for Gladys to hear. She scanned for predators – cats, dogs, birds, insects – but those were not the problem, at least at the moment. She felt the presence of a spell. However, she could not figure out what it was, or even where. Probably glamour to keep the pests out of the garden, except that most animals could see through glamour, since they didn't have any delusions about whom and what they were. People, both human and fae, though, saw what they most desired or feared, depending on the intent of the spell caster. Maven didn't want to get caught, but she didn't see any traps or predators.

One defect of her see-through-glamour spell was that she had to be human-sized to cast it – being tiny took a lot of energy to keep the mass of her body somewhere outside the current reality, and the invisibility spell only worked with the tiny spell.

Maven put on her to-do list to go back to the library and risk getting stuck there again, to pick up some new spells. Still, she could hide from Gladys, who did not need to know she was still around. Best to flit around, then, being careful to look for spider webs and other dangers.

Once up past the clouds into the land of the giants, the beanstalk blended in with other beans, corn, and pumpkins in the garden of a huge house. Gladys scrambled up the last few feet and dropped into the dirt under the shade of a broad pumpkin leaf. Hard living had made her scrappy.

Gladys moved quickly under the leaves of the garden plants, ignoring the various denizens of the garden mulch. She escaped the clutches of a praying mantis, the swoop of a robin, and the tongue of a toad, all with a bit of help from Maven.

"Don't you think you are putting a little too much energy into this-s-s one?" whispered the Serpent. It had never given her its name, or gender for that matter, but turned up whenever it felt like it, always “articulating” its vital message, ranging in tones from a scary hiss to a more comforting whisper. "Is-s-s she worth it?"

Maven didn't turn to look. "She's a person. I hate for her to die up here before she gets a chance to live her dream."

"Ahh, yes-s-s, her dream." Hissing chuckles filled Maven's ears. "You have already granted her wis-s-sh, and your job is over. Don't get too caught up in this s-s-story, or you might truly get caught." The Serpent's tongue patted her shoulder and disappeared.

Maven tried to poof into the house to see if the giant was home, but a guardian spell kept her out. Giants were known for their skills in magic, yet Maven had never run into one their spells headfirst. She bounced off like a tennis ball, landing on and crushing a large pumpkin blossom, sticky with nectar and pollen – and a bee, judging from the buzzing inside. She hid from the bee, which was more interested in more nectar than in finding her.

Just then, a string of bells began to jingle, a deafening tintinnabulation, and a disturbance in the force of the spell she could not find. Maven followed the sound to its epicenter and saw Gladys trapped in a net. Gladys struggled, but the net only tightened.

Then the earth shook, thundering vibrations drawing near. A giant woman lumbered to the garden, shrieking with glee. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, all powers and dominions. Let this be my salvation!"

She went directly to the trap and gingerly picked Gladys up. Gladys was screaming and yelling, probably too high-pitched for the giant to hear.

The giant carried Gladys in the net cupped in her hand, as if Gladys were a butterfly or a delicate flower. She clearly intended no harm. Maven poofed to the giant's shoulder to hitch a ride with her into the house.

It wasn't an invitation, exactly, but as Maven wriggled under the giant's wide apron strap, she was not swept off her shoulder. Gladys did not seem affected, judging by her continued wailing and cursing.

At any rate, Maven was in, just in time to see Gladys placed in a golden cage made secure from escape with a bit of magic on the latch of the door and between the bars. Maven could not get in, and Gladys could not get out, though they both tried.

Maven felt the smug "I told you so" feeling from Bump of Direction. She had to get Gladys out of there, but how?

The giant used a couple of her finest crochet hooks, about the size of Gladys' arm, to pull open the net and free Gladys. She poured water through the bars into a basin the size of a #3 washtub. "Clean yourself up, and I'll get you some food." She was helping her prisoner. She brought back a cubic foot of bread and a 2-gallon thimble full of water, placing them in the cage with tweezers.

The giant left the cage on the table and went into another part of the house. Maven followed her to her bedroom, where the giant washed her face and hands and tidied her hair. She took off her apron and put on a clean dress, though it was faded and patched in a few places. She added a hat, a purse, and some worn shoes that looked uncomfortable.

As the giant cleaned herself up, she hummed to herself. "Now I can pay off the goblins, and maybe buy a new frock." She smoothed her dress and put on a brooch with a gemstone the size of a cabbage. It must have been glass, because if she were so strapped for cash, surely she would have sold that as well.

Now, Maven felt sorry for the giant. She was at fault here, no matter what she did. How would she ever explain this to Fiona?

Maven tried to listen to the giant's story, muddled and grainy like a pixelated photo. The giant had not made a wish, and so was not a client. She had money troubles, and Gladys was her way out of them – that was clear enough, but how? What could Maven do about it?

What do giants wish for?

The giant went back to the kitchen, picked up the cage carefully, and swept out the door, leaving Maven behind. Maven was tired. She could not poof through the spell from the inside.

She tried making herself the size of a giant, to get the door open, but she lacked the mass at that size to pull the latch. The only thing she could manage was to get back to her normal size – always a relief. Her stomach growled, perpetually empty as if she had come back through the zilchzeit.

A wonderful smell filled her consciousness with desire. On the windowsill, a pie cooled–blueberry custard—a good enough reason for the giant to cast a no-varmint spell. With another effort of will, using the energy of her desire, she made herself small again and flew to the pie as if it would dematerialize if she didn’t swoop in quickly. Regaining her full size and barely restraining herself from jumping in feet first, she scanned the pie for anything that might be harmful to her.

It was all good. Dig in now, before it really DOES disappear, she thought.

Maven began breaking off chunks of crust and scooping handfuls of warm custard into her mouth. She had never felt so hungry before. She ate until she could not eat anymore, feeling full of energy and sass. She hadn't made much of a dent in the pie–less than a giant's teaspoon.

The giant would notice when she returned, but Maven planned not to be there. Her conscience pricked a little—she had little more concern for the giant's feelings than Gladys had.

The fairy godmother walked out to the edge of the windowsill, feeling the energy of the barrier flow around her. Something had changed, maybe something about the pie, maybe something about being full-sized. She pulled energy from the barrier spell, from the pie in her belly, and from the general magic of the giant.

She focused on Gladys and poofed herself beside the cage, keeping herself invisible and tiny. She must not be captured before she could get Gladys out.

The giant picked up the cage and placed a cover over it, keeping them both in the dark. She carried the cage on a long walk, swinging them along as she hummed to herself. This was a very important day for the giant, and she was elated.

Finally, they stopped after going into a shop, judging from the bell over the door, and the cage was set on a flat surface. The cover was lifted, and another giant peered through the bars at Gladys.

"I can give you 20 guilders for it," The second giant said. "Since I'll have to clean it up, that's the best I can do.

After some negotiations, the giant held out her hand as the other counted gold coins into it.

Gladys had been sold.

"Do bring any other specimens you can catch," said the second giant, a woman considerably better dressed than the first.

"You don't hurt them, do you?" The giant did show a bit of concern as she counted her coins.

"No, we care for them very well, especially such an excellent specimen, to protect our investments." The second giant smiled. "Plenty of water, clothing, a nice run, and lots of their favorite food."

The first giant left, hurrying to her next appointment, clutching her handbag with both hands.

How had Maven's vision been so wrong? That's what Bump of Direction warned her about—a client sold into captivity—or worse?

"If you hadn't followed her, you wouldn't know," whispered the Serpent.

She could feel the point of its reptile chin against her shoulder, a heavy weight like her remorse and guilt. "Shut it, unless you can get her out."

"That's your gig, not mine. You wouldn't like my methods-s-s anyway." A sigh of silence, and it disappeared.

Maven could not break the spell on the latch of the cage.

Gladys was weeping inside the enclosure, as she shook the door and tried to climb up to squeeze out between the bars. The cage was designed to keep its cargo safely inside.

"Now, now, my little pretty," boomed the voice of the second giant. She pushed between the bars a fancy gown of lace and satin, exquisitely delicate work for such huge hands. "Here's something nice for you to wear. Clean yourself up, get dressed, and I'll take you to your new home."

At least she didn't mention grinding of bones to make bread – not that any one person would make much flour but would find this more like grinding up a single chicken wing.

Gladys wiped her face and put on the dress. Maven helped with a bit of spell to clean her hair and body. Maybe if she had done that sooner, the giant would have made a better sale.

The second giant carried the cage to a well-appointed room where several mansions sat on a platform in a circle connected by transparent tunnels. There were live plants inside greenhouse areas, but all enclosed, like a guinea-pig habitat. The outside walls were transparent – giant dollhouses for living dolls.

Maven's heart sank. Her client had become an exotic pet, a slave. This was what her glimpse showed about Gladys's future.

The giant opened a space on the roof of the tallest one, a Victorian fantasy of gingerbread and gables. She set the cage against the opening and slid the door up. "Go on in there," she commanded. "This is your new home." She closed the roof opening and set the spell on it.

This spell was stronger than the one on the cage, a completely different energy signature. When Maven approached, she was repelled like a reversed magnet. She could not get Gladys out, not that Gladys was complaining.

Gladys made her way down the stairs to the bottom floor, where a young man played a piano in a large room with gorgeous furniture and accessories: flowers in crystal vases, paintings, bookcases with books, a thick rug, and figured wallpaper. Maven wondered if it were stolen from Mundane, since she had never seen such in Faery, or if this giant was just into miniatures, maybe made, quite appropriately, by dwarves. She could hear the music, and the pianist was good, although the tune was unfamiliar.

Gladys entered the music room and stopped, gazing around at the finery. "Excuse me, where am I?"

The man stopped playing. He stood, mesmerized. He took several steps closer to her. "You are so beautiful." He bowed. "Welcome to my home. What is your name?" He gestured toward the velvet sofa by the piano.

She walked over and sat down, arranging her gown. "I'm Gladys. You?"

"Jack, son of Jack." He sat beside her, gazing into her eyes. "The giant promised to find me a friend, and here you are."

"So what's the deal? What do we have to do here?"

"Anything we like. Read. Play. Walk the grounds." He looked away. "They just like to watch."

Gladys stared out the transparent wall. "Who does the cooking? Cleaning? Gardening?"

"The giant brings food and water every day. She keeps the houses clean." He took her hand. "There is a nice greenhouse if you like to grow flowers."

"Do I sleep with you?" Gladys appraised her new housemate. He was about her age, handsome, well-dressed.

And lonely, Maven thought. She could not tell how long he had been here.

Jack turned his face away, blushing, yet with a bit of a smile. "You have your own bed, of course. Or you can have your own house."

Gladys walked to the transparent wall and stroked it. "If you are out there, Fairy Godmother, this'll do." She came back to the sofa. “Play another song for me." She kissed him on the forehead.

Maven reviewed the wish:

• Beautiful house – check

• Nice clothes – check

• No housework – check

• No cooking – check

• Love interest – check

All done without grand theft, interspecies incident, or difficult explanations.

Maven thought of her own life in Mundane, where she felt captured in the system, and even here in Faery, where her well-being and freedom depended on the favor of her boss.

Who was she to question what someone else wished for or what might make her happy, when her own wish to be here had been granted? She refused to look ahead to see what might be in store for Gladys and Jack: Boredom? Screaming fits? Murder/suicide? Maybe a long life together of reasonable happiness.

When the happy ending starts depends on where the story ends.

Next time, though, she'd listen to Bump of Direction.

Poofing through the no-space-no-time zilchzeit back to her pod, she asked the Serpent, "So what is the favorite food the giants feed them?"

"Beans-s-s."