An Adventure to Balleyclare

Our story begins as most stories do – in a time long since past. A time before the written word was known and, instead, fables were shared in front of family hearths, passed down from mother to daughter, to sister, and to son. And so it was that this story was shared in quiet moments during thundering storms and in the early summer mornings when dandelions dotted the open fields like yellow drops of sunlight. The story grew and changed with each re-telling, as all stories are apt to do. But throughout the many versions and (perhaps sometimes exaggerated) additions, the tale always began the same way: There was once a small village called Balleyclare.

It was a quaint sort of place, which sat nestled between the Northern and Southern Mountain ranges, in a valley so steep it was near impossible to climb. Truly, the only way in or out was along the path that extended East to West, cutting through the two mountain ranges in a long, sloping line. Travelers came from far away to trade their wares and the villagers were content to farm their land, weave their baskets, and to generally live their lives in the sweet comfort of isolation – for not many made the trek to Balleyclare, and even fewer left.

This was both strange and not strange as, unquestionably, Balleyclare seemed a lovely little place to live, and families appeared beyond content to raise their children, grow old, and settle in for that long task of living a comfortable life.

And yet, travelers couldn’t help but notice that many of these families seemed rather too content with their easy lives. Johnny was one such traveler.

“It just ain’t right,” he muttered to his companion. “I tell you, Will, this place is too happy.”

“Och, away with yourself, Johnny,” said Will, waving his mug in emphasis. The motion sent a surge of ale spilling over the rim and Johnny grimaced when most of it landed on his sleeve.

“I tell you it’s the truth!” His fist pounded the table as he spoke. “This is my third time trading in this blasted place and they’re all happy as pigs at feeding time. It’s all ‘wonderful weather we’ve been having,’ and ‘my, that’s a lovely donkey you have.’ Bah! you know as well as I do that Seamus is the devil’s own spawn, he is. Why, he bit me only this morning!”

“Aye, that’s true, your donkey is a pain in the arse to be sure.”

Johnny lowered his voice and glanced nervously over his shoulder before continuing. “I tell you,” he said softly, “they remind me of Doreen’s cows before she leads them off to the butcher.”

“Aye, well, to be sure they are an overly happy sort of people. Why, I was just noticing that not one of the men I met today had a complaint to make against his wife.”

“Ah! You see? What sort of man is truly happy in his marriage? Have you ever met a married man that wasn’t as quick to complain about his woman as he was to share an ale with a friend?”

With a grunt of agreement, Will tapped his glass to Johnny’s before drinking deeply.

“Let’s just get what we came for and be off,” Johnny said after he wiped the remnants of ale from his beard with his sleeve. “I’d just as soon sleep on the ground by an open fire if it means I don’t need to spend another night in this Inn.”

“As you wish, Johnny boy,” said Will agreeably. In truth, he wasn’t nearly so bothered by the people of Balleyclare as his friend, but he was a companionable sort of fellow and didn’t feel much in the mood to argue.

They finished their ale and left some coin behind as payment before lumbering outside to hitch up their cart – packed to the brim with the goods they’d bought off Balleyclare’s eerily cheerful families. Johnny and Will took their usual seats in the drivers’ box and with a gentle thwack to Seamus’ behind, they were off.

Perhaps if the forementioned donkey hadn’t once again tried to take a bite out of Johnny’s behind before they set off, he wouldn’t have been distracted. Or maybe if, as they made their way out of town, the families on the street hadn’t cheerfully waved them away and made his skin crawl, he would have noticed that a small wriggling form had weaseled its way beneath the mounds of cloth and grain in the wagon.

But regardless of what could have been, portly old Mr. Johnny did not notice, and that small form now sat patiently concealed as the two travelers and their irate donkey meandered down the eastern pass, away from the looming mountain ranges, their rocky spines curved and bespoke with steep cliffs and peaks.

Barry O’Brien was what his mother called a precocious young man. At 5 years old and three feet, five inches, he was quite confident that he knew better than his Ma. And he most definitely knew more than his older sister Claire – even if she was two years older.

His whole life (all five years of it), he’d known that he didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the village of Balleyclare. He fidgeted too much, and didn’t smile enough, and was always playing pranks on the unsuspecting town folk. Nothing too terrible, mind you, he wasn’t ever out to hurt anyone. He just liked to stir a little trouble now and again since it seemed that Balleyclare could surely use a little trouble.

It was only yesterday that he thought he might have gotten a bit too carried away. While she was napping, he’d snuck a little snake into Claire’s bed - just a tiny thing he’d found in the garden. Barry had only meant to scare her a bit and make her sorry for not sharing her apple pie the night before, but when she started screaming in terror and his mother and father began fretting over the nasty looking bite on her ankle, he’d felt such terrible shame. That shame had pushed him to flee the house and find a quiet, solitary place where he could cry out the guilty stone sitting heavy in his gut.

It just so happened that the quiet place he’d found was under the staircase at Master Donald’s tavern. Little Barry had learned early that some of the best places to hide were the ones in plain sight. So, he’d wrapped himself up in his warm coat, cozied up under the staircase, and had himself a good cry while he listened to the comforting sounds of a lively tavern, warm from both the hearth and the body heat from men packed tightly together drinking ale, trading stories, and having a good laugh.

It was enough comfort to stop his crying – which allowed him the chance to overhear a very curious conversation between two of the strangers in town – Will and Johnny, they called themselves. He couldn’t help but agree with them that the village was altogether too happy a place. It made him and his troublemaking stand out all the more and for the first time in his life, he wondered what it was like in other places.

Like striking a match, the thought lit a flame in his heart and a question in his soul. As Barry hadn’t yet learned to curb his curiosity in deference to practicality, he soon found himself overwhelmed with wonderment and couldn’t stop thinking about where these travelers might be going next, what places they might see, and the people he could meet if he went along with them.

After all, Ma and Da were busy with helping Claire and he was sure they wouldn’t miss him a bit while he went on his adventure. And with that thought, everything seemed settled. He followed Mr. Johnny and Mr. Will to their cart, dodged the angry looking donkey, and scrambled up quickly into the back of their wagon, digging deep beneath all the newly purchased wares until he was properly buried and invisible to the many eyes of the townsfolk who watched the wagon as it disappeared.

The first fifteen minutes had been terribly exciting. The fifteen minutes after that, though still exciting, was slightly tempered by the discomfort of being squashed between two barrels of grain and several layers of wool. It wasn’t long after that that a very healthy level of fear began to take root in his heart, and he began to think he might have made a mistake in leaving without giving a word or in knowing which direction the wagon was moving.

It also suddenly seemed a bit unnerving that he knew nothing beyond the fact that their names were Johnny and Will and that their donkey was ornery. Where the unknown had originally bred excitement, he now felt a surge of unease bordering on outright fear and was honestly starting to regret the whole ordeal. He thought maybe he wanted to cry some more but the tears wouldn’t come – even they were too afraid to show themselves. After what felt like an eternity, the wagon began to slow. Barry envisioned Mr. Johnny and Mr. Will pulling the wool from the cart and emptying the barrels of grain – exposing his secret hiding spot. It was enough to make him nervous and he decided the best thing to do would be to get off the wagon without them any the wiser that he had been there at all.

So, while the wagon continued to slow, he extricated himself from the heavy wool and stiff wooden barrels. After a deep breath of clean, cool air, he jumped nimbly from the cart.

Mr. Johnny and Mr. Will, never the wiser to the role they had played in his escape, continued on their merry way, thinking longingly of their own homes and putting the strange village of Balleyclare from their minds.

Barry found himself quite alone – and quite cold. With the rise of the full moon, the air had turned crisp, and Barry shivered as he pulled his coat tighter across his body. With the light of the moon, he took in his surroundings. The path continued East and West as far as the eye could see, with dense forest on his left, and a wide-open plain on his right that seemed never ending. He thought about beginning the long walk home, but his eyes were quite tired and his legs hurt from sitting so long. It must have been long past his bedtime and he thought perhaps the most responsible thing would be to get a good night’s sleep and “clear away the cobwebs of the day,” like his Ma always said.

The open plain was too open – there was nowhere nice to curl up and get cozy like he liked to do in his own bed. And it didn’t seem safe to curl up in the middle of the road. That left the Forest.

It wasn’t a scary-looking forest – not like the stories of evil witches who dwelled in dense Forest cottages and enjoyed eating little boys. It seemed like a nice kind of Forest – one with tricky little fairies and sweet imps who only want to play.

It was decided – Barry would find a nice little section of the Forest to curl up in and take a nap. Then, in the morning, he would go back home and tell his Ma and Da and Claire about the fantastic adventure he had embarked on. So that’s what he did. Barry found a comfortable section of a hollowed-out tree trunk, about twenty paces from the road, curled up with his head on his hands, and went to sleep.

“What are you doing down there, child?”

Barry’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked against the bright sunlight streaming through the trees above him.

“What is wrong with your eyes – why do you blink so much? Can you speak?”

“Hush now, Sir, he is just waking up. Oh my, he’s such a little thing.”

“Not so little. Big enough to be here alone.”

Barry shook his head slightly, shifting so that he leaned against the small tree trunk. He studied the owners of the two voices. One was a very large man with a long grey beard, heavy eyebrows, and very wrinkled skin. Barry thought that one good gust of wind would knock him right over.

And standing on the man’s shoulder was a very tiny woman –only so tall that the top of her head reached his ear and so compact that she could likely fit comfortably in Barry’s coat pocket.

“You’re so tiny,” he blurted out.

“Hmph. These small humans are very blunt, are they not?” asked the man.

“ah, but he’s just a curious young fellow,” said the tiny woman cheerfully. “Surely I’m of a small stature, young master, but that is the way with all pixies.”

“Pixie?” Barry asked, unfamiliar with the term. He wondered if maybe he were still dreaming, for this was the strangest conversation he’d ever had.

“Indeed! I am Lori of the Northern Pixies and this is Master Reaghan, the last of the dr-”

“That’s enough for now, Lori. We need not confuse the boy unnecessarily.” Master Reaghan seemed to be a very stern type of man – the kind that Barry always thought could do with a bit of trouble. But there was also something about him that made him weary – a sixth sense children are gifted with to know when someone is lying to them, or otherwise being untruthful.

“What are you doing out here by yourself, child?”

“And what is your name?” asked Lori enthusiastically, as though it were the most fun she had had in a very long while.

“My name is Barry, and I am on an adventure,” Barry said proudly, puffing his chest reflexively.

“Ohhh!” Lori clapped her hands and jumped up and down excitedly, accidentally stepping on a portion of Master Reaghan’s beard and yanking his head to the side. Lori didn’t seem to notice, however, and either purposefully ignored or innocently missed his angry "harumph."

“I love adventures,” she continued. “It has been an age since I had a good adventure. What are you off to do? Save a maiden? Fight a witch? Oh, perhaps you are working to end a terrible curse!”

“Uhhhh…” Barry didn’t know what to say. ‘I hid on a wagon’ suddenly seemed like a very boring adventure compared to the ones that Lori was used to.

“Perhaps the boy is unable to divulge his mission, hmm?” Master Reaghan looked very serious but also like he was trying not to laugh. “Perhaps it is of the utmost secrecy?”

“Yes!” Barry exclaimed. “Yes, it is very secret, I cannot tell you.”

“Very well then,” said the man. “We will leave you to your secret mission. Good luck, young sir!”

“Oh Master Reaghan, we can’t leave him all by himself – he is on an adventure and, clearly, destiny has placed us in his path. We must help him in any way we can!”

“Destiny is mistaken,” said Master Reaghan drily.

“Nonsense!” cried Lori. She jumped nimbly from his shoulder and Barry noticed for the first time that she had wings – thin little things that refracted the light as they fluttered gently in the wind. She came to land on the soft ground by Barry’s foot and peered up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“I am happy to help you, good sir. It would be my dearest pleasure to assist you in your quest.”

“Oh, well, alright then,” said Barry self-consciously. He didn’t know the proper etiquette for when someone offered to accompany you on a quest, but he did know that his Ma would cuff his head if he didn’t say a proper ‘thank you.’

“Many thanks, Ms. Lori, for your help,” he said as formally as he could, with a little bow for good measure. It must have looked a bit silly, though, since he was still sitting and indeed, Barry heard Master Reaghan give a little chuckle.

“Well, now that all this formality is behind us,” said Master Reaghan, “I suppose we should be on our way.”

“Right!” said Barry excitedly. He jumped to his feet and Lori also took to the air, fluttering near Barry’s head.

“Where are we off to, Sir Barry?”

“To Balleyclare!” Barry declared happily, getting into the spirit of the thing.

Lori stumbled a bit – if you can say that a flying pixie stumbles. Master Reaghan likewise froze for a moment and looked a bit disconcerted.

“Don’t worry, I know the way! It’s just down this road,” Barry said, thinking perhaps they had never heard of his little village.

Lori glanced nervously up at Master Reaghan, as though she were afraid of his reaction. It reminded Barry of when he had spilled milk all over the kitchen floor and had looked up at his father waiting for a scolding that never came.

“Oh, well, er- perhaps I was hasty in offering our help, Sir Barry,” Lori said a bit timidly.

“Nonsense, Lori,” said Master Reaghan. “You have already committed our assistance, after all. There is no turning back now – destiny would be distraught.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she said uncertainly. Barry wondered if Master Reaghan had ever cuffed Lori on the head for spilling milk. Probably not, since one good cuff would likely send her flying off to the continent.

“Well then, Sir Barry,” said Master Reaghan with a taunting voice. “We had best be on our way if we’re to deliver you before nightfall. It is a full day’s walk from here.”

“You’ve been to Balleyclare?” Barry asked eagerly, too excited to take note of Lori’s slumped shoulders or the newfound tension in the air.

“Many, many years ago,” he replied tiredly. And with that, he turned on his heel and walked towards the road leading back to the village. “Come along, Barry, we have a long road to travel, and we must get you home before the sun goes down.”

Barry, Lori, and Master Reaghan walked for a very long time in silence but Barry, after all, was only five years old and there are not many five-year-olds that can refrain from talking for an extended amount of time.

But he was still a bit intimidated (that was a word that Claire had taught him) by Master Reaghan and he couldn’t think of much to say to him. So instead, he talked to Lori, who was more than happy to oblige! He asked her about what it was like to be a pixie, how high could she fly, how fast could she fly, did she ever get tired of flying, could she teach him how to fly?

“You are too silly Sir Barry – little boys cannot fly, otherwise there would be nothing special about Pixies.”

“So, then, only Pixies can fly?” Barry asked, a bit disappointed.

“Not only pixies, no.” At this, Lori glanced once again at Master Reaghan.

“Can you fly, Master Reaghan?” Barry asked, too young to understand that, perhaps, this was a topic that made Master Reaghan a bit unhappy to think of.

“Sometimes, Sir Barry.” This was said with enough underlying anger that even Barry understood it would be better not to ask any further questions – so he refrained. They continued much the way they had started, with Barry asking Lori many questions about all the things he had only believed existed in fairytales.

“But what about you, Sir Barry?” she finally said after many hours of describing the history of Pixies and how they like to support other magical creatures on their quests. “You have barely told us anything about your own adventure – other than our destination. What brings you there?”

“I’m from there, actually,” Barry said quietly.

“You are from Balleyclare?” Lori asked, startled. Even Master Reaghan seemed surprised by this news.

“Yes,” Barry sighed, thinking that it was probably time to come clean about the truth of his misadventure.

“Balleyclare is where I’m from, so it is. It’s where my Ma and my Da are from. I have an older sister named Claire – but she is only two years older, though she likes to think that two years is more than it is. And I live in a very nice house, next to very nice people, who are all very pleasant, and nothing ever happens.”

Lori looked very confused. “But if that is the truth, Sir Barry, then why did you leave and what took you so far from home?”

Barry kicked at a loose stone as he walked, head hung low. “It is because I’m not as happy as everyone else, you see. I am a trouble-maker and a ruckus-rouser. I pour sugar in the saltshaker, and I tie my Da’s shoes together and hang them from the rafters in the barn. When my sister wouldn’t share her pie with me – and I really wanted some, you know – well, I just slipped a little garden snake in her bed – just as a little joke, you know?”

Lori nodded rigorously, as though it made all the sense in the world that one should want to play these little pranks and cause a little trouble now and then.

“I left because I’m not like everyone else and it seemed like it might be good for me to see another place and find out if I fit better in a different village – maybe one that wasn’t quite so happy and had a little more room for trouble. But I missed my family and I got scared, so I didn’t even make it to another village and, really, I’ve not done a very good job with having my adventure.”

There was a long silence after Barry finished speaking and he wondered if they thought very badly of him and would leave him to walk the rest of the way home on his own.

“That,” Master Reaghan said quietly, “it the first sensible thing I have heard since this whole ordeal began.”

Barry looked up in shock, searching for the truth in Master Reaghan’s face. His eyes were a very dark color – almost black. But for the first time since Barry had met him, their expression was one of humor and understanding, rather than anger and annoyance.

“Sir Barry, do you know what an adventure is all about?” Master Reaghan asked.

“It’s about being very daring and fighting evil witches and rescuing maidens,” Barry replied (though in truth he wasn’t sure what a maiden was or why it needed rescuing).

“Of a surety, those can all be adventures. But a true adventure is about what you learn on the road. A quest isn’t measured just by the riches that you win, but in the ways that you change, deep in your heart. Now think very hard for me, young sir. Have you learned anything during this adventure of yours?”

Barry took this question very seriously and walked in silence for a moment while he thought.

“I suppose I’ve learned all about pixies,” Barry mused.

“That’s true,” Master Reaghan laughed. “What else?”

“I learned that there are lots of different adventures you can have and that it’s much more fun to walk a long road with friends.”

“A fine observation. What about what led you to leave in the first place?”

“You mean my home?”

“Yes, precisely. What about Balleyclare? Have you learned anything about your village since you left?”

“I’m not sure. I suppose what I know now is that I would like to go back.”

“Even though it’s not the home that you truly want? Even though it’s not a place where you fit in perfectly and they don’t enjoy people causing trouble?”

Barry thought very hard about this question. Did he really want to go home even though people would still be far too nice for his liking, and he wouldn’t fit in with the other boys who were too polite and who didn’t appreciate his penchant for trouble-making? It didn’t sound like the home he wanted, if he was being honest.

But then he thought of his Ma and Da, who were likely very concerned by his disappearance, and of Claire, who he hadn’t even thought to check on before he left in Mr. Johnny and Mr. Will’s wagon. And if he was honest with himself, he missed them all dearly.

“Yes, Master Reaghan, I would very much like to go home, even if some of the time it isn’t the home that I want.”

Master Reaghan smiled.

“That’s very wise, Sir Barry.”

“It is?” Barry asked, surprised.

“It is a very wise thing to know that a place doesn’t have to be perfect to be home. Home is what we make of it and as long as you are willing to go on a very long and tiring adventure to find it, it will always be worth it in the end.”

Barry thought about that and decided it was indeed a very wise thing for him to have thought – most definitely wiser than anything that Claire would have thought of.

“As it happens, Sir Barry, I think your quest will be much more successful than you ever could have hoped for.”

“Why do you say that, Master Reaghan?” Barry asked.

“Because, young sir, there is a part of Balleyclare’s history that you don’t know – in fact there is a part of Balleyclare’s history that no one knows, and it very much requires an adventure.”

“Really?” Barry asked excitedly.

“Ahh Master Reaghan, is it truly the time? Are you sure?” Lori asked, hope ringing out clearly in her voice.

“I believe it is, Lori.”

And so, Master Reaghan told Barry the true story of BalleyClare’s history as they walked. There was once a man called Vorekai, who was a very unhappy sort of fellow – never content with his lot in life, always looking for the easy path, the one of least resistance. But it didn’t serve him well, and no one desired to spend much time in his company, and he became lonely. One way or another, he came to be in possession of a magic wish, which he used to create a place where people would be content and happy, no matter the trials of life. A place where things would be easy and simple and there would be nothing worth complaining about.

But the cost of that wish – the cost of Balleyclare – was the life of another. So, the wish took the life of two dragons, for they were in love and shared one heart between the two of them. The dragons fell into a deep sleep and so much time passed that their once gleaming coats hardened into stone.

“The Northern and the Southern mountains!” Barry exclaimed.

“Indeed,” said Master Reaghan sadly. “You see, Barry, those two dragons were my parents. And when they fell into their slumber, it left me alone. I am the last of my kind.”

“I’m so very sorry, Master Reaghan,” said Barry sadly. He thought how sad he would be if his parents went to sleep and left him and Claire by themselves.

“Thank you, Barry, that is kind of you. But you know, I think that Lori was right and perhaps Destiny has been clever today.”

“How so, Master Reaghan?” Barry asked.

“I think that you might be the key to breaking the curse.”

“Me?” he asked, surprised. “But I’m not like everyone in Ballyclare!”

“Precisely!” exclaimed Master Reaghan. “I think your troublemaking and ruckus-rousing is the key! I think what you must do, Sir Barry, is cause a whole lot of trouble when you return home and show the good people of Balleyclare that home can still be home, even with a little less perfection. Perhaps, with your help, it will help them to overcome Vorekai’s wish, and it will free my parents.”

Barry thought that was quite a big hope to put on his very tiny shoulders. But then again, there was no one quite so capable of troublemaking as he was.

They walked together for many more miles until reaching the entrance of the village, during which time Barry gave a great deal of thought to the matter.

“Master Reaghan?”

“Yes, Sir Barry?”

“I think I should like to try out your suggestion for troublemaking.”

Master Reaghan smiled very brightly, and as the moon began to rise once again – another day gone - an otherworldly quality took over his features. His skin became very bright and rather shiny, and his eyes were even darker than before. He didn’t look quite so old anymore, either, Barry thought to himself.

“I think you will handle the task splendidly, Sir Barry. I wish you every luck with your endeavor.”

They shook hands, just as Barry saw his father do with other men in the village. Lori, on the other hand, gave his index finger a small (but enthusiastic) high five. And with that, Barry turned and walked the final bit back to Balleyclare by himself.

You might be wondering if young Barry was successful in breaking the curse? Well, it took a great deal of troublemaking and even more ruckus-rousing than he thought himself capable of. But in the end, Barry woke one summer morning to discover, along with the rest of the village, that the Northern and Southern Mountain ranges had disappeared, leaving the village open to the wide world on all sides.

It made for some excellent adventures.