Part 27 (1/2)

”Well,” said Elsie, ”why don't we find out?”

The next night, the group was enormous. Jack and Jill had planned to tell the giant story, and they had gathered enough sticks and branches to make a large fire. The children sat round the crackling flames as dusk settled in, and Jack and Jill and the frog prepared to tell them about their adventures in the sky.

But before they could begin, some dark figures approached the back of the group. There were at least three of them, and they were pretty big for kids.

Elsie ran up to Jill and tugged on her arm. ”Jill,” she whispered. ”Do you think you could tell us the story from the beginning again? Most of the kids here missed the frog's part.” Jill shrugged and asked Jack. Jack shrugged and asked the frog. The frog shrugged and said, ”They want to hear my story again? I don't know . . .”

He began his story again.

And off in the trees, a woman as tall as a statue and slender as a willow wand put her hand before her mouth and stared. Then she laughed. Then she grew serious. By the end of the story, she was wiping a tear from her eye.

The next evening, the crowd of children returned. And the next. And the next. And each evening, once the fire was raging and the children were comfortable, those three dark figures would come up behind the group and stand among the trees.

They heard about the silk merchant and the snake oil salesman and the old woman. They heard about the giants. They heard about Jack and Jill tumbling from the sky and falling down the hill.

A little girl sitting near the front, whose last name was Goose, laughed so hard at that part that Jack and Jill stopped telling the story and stared at her.

”I broke my head open,” Jack reminded her.

”I know,” said the little girl, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. ”I'm sorry.”

They heard about the mermaid. They heard about the goblins. They heard about Eddie. Everyone loved Eddie. Finally, they heard about the terrible Others.

As Jack and Jill spoke, the fire illuminated their faces, igniting their features, flas.h.i.+ng in their eyes. They spoke with such pa.s.sion-and of such fearful and wondrous things. Their voices boomed and the children all sat back; their voices swooped down low and everyone leaned in. And Jack and Jill were fierce. And honest. And impressive. And beautiful. In the crackling light of the fire, out there in the pale green grove among the dark trees, everyone saw it. They were amazing, fierce, beautiful children.

And then they came to the final story. About returning home. They told it, and the tall figures in the back hugged their arms to their chests. They told about coming to live in these woods. And the friends they'd made.

And then they invited the frog to tell about the Seeing Gla.s.s-and his discovery. So he did.

He told them that what had seemed to say, ”Fo timb hat da jeek, bok no father,” did not say that at all.

He told them that the f was actually a t.

He told them the t was an f.

He told them the m was a . . .

”Just tell us what it said!” someone cried.

”Oh!” said the frog. ”Sure.”

He cleared his throat.

”It said, 'To find what ye seek, look no further.'”

In the clearing, there was no sound but the crackling fire.

”What does that mean?” a child asked.

Jack smiled, and answered, ”It means that it took a crazy quest, and almost dying lots of times, and more pain than anyone should ever have to go through-but we finally figured out what we'd been looking for all along.”

”And,” said Jill, ”at that very moment, we found it.”

”What was it?” a big boy shouted.

”It was right there in the Gla.s.s,” Jill replied.

”What?” said Elsie. ”What did you see?”

Jack smiled. ”What do you think we saw? It's a mirror. We saw ourselves.”

And then, suddenly, something burst inside of that tall, slender figure standing among the trees. She broke from the shadows and ran forward, over and through the seated children.

Jill stood up.

”Mom?” she said.

Her mother threw her arms around her. She whispered, ”My beautiful, wise girl.” Jack's father, and then the king, too, emerged from the trees, came up to the children, and embraced them.

Then the queen let go of Jill and turned to the frog-who was frozen, staring at her. And she said, ”I owe you this,” and she picked up the frog and kissed him. Right on the mouth. All the children broke out cheering. The frog, on the other hand, fainted.

The queen turned back to Jill, to embrace her again.

But Jill had turned away. She and Jack had put their arms around each other's shoulders, as best friends will do, and they were watching the black smoke from the bonfire rise into the sky. Overhead, the darkness was still littered with stars. But in the east, there were signs of dawn.

Wait, wait, go back.

Are you saying the Gla.s.s was just a mirror? It wasn't magic or anything?

No, I wouldn't say that. I'd say that all mirrors are magic, or can be.

They show you yourself, after all.

Really seeing yourself, though-that's the hard part.

Suddenly, a roar shook the forest. It was so loud that the leaves fell from branches, the earth shook, and an old tree fell over.

Everyone in the clearing doubled over and covered their ears. Their eyes were all panic. What was happening? Was the world coming to an end?

Jack and Jill were doubled over, too. But they were not panicked. They were laughing.