The Brownie's Intervention

1 | If there was anything happening in Pear Tree Village, Fiona the Brownie knew about it. She didn't consider herself a gossip, though she'd heard others whispering about it while she was sweeping outside Pear Tree Tavern. She may, on occasion, hear some things that she then shares with others. She thought information sharing was very important for a small village. After all, if it weren't for her, how would anyfae know anything?

It isn't HER fault that other fae say and do things where she can hear and see it. And it isn't HER fault if other fae ask her if she's seen or heard anything. Well, yes, sometimes they didn't ask, but that's probably only because they didn't know the question they needed to ask. Nofae says anything when those hyper pixies jibber-jabber about.

She really didn't understand why she found herself sitting in a chair surrounded by almost everyfae in the rolling grove outside Pear Tree Village.

"Fiona of Pear Tree Village," began Gunther, the gnome, "this is not a trial. We are all here today out of love and support. Your friends are concerned about you. And mostly about themselves and their privacy, but also about you."

Fiona rolled her eyes, "Oh, get on with it."

"Well," said Gretchen, the witch, "you did tell everyfae in town about Gruber when I was still processing it myself."

Fiona gave Gretchen a blank stare for a solid minute. "Oh come on! You blew him up with a potion! I was supposed to receive that information and NOT say anything to anyfae? I didn't know if it was an accident or not. Would that not make me an accomplice?"

"Actually," Wren jumped in, "I didn't tell YOU about it. I accidentally mentioned it to Martin when you overheard me. I would have never purposely told you or everyfae in the village. And when I DID tell Martin, I DID say she ACCIDENTALLY blew up Gruber."

"See," said Fiona, "the pixie admits that she's the one that started telling people. I just pushed the information along to others."

"That's not what I meant!" shouted Wren, which to everyfae else just sounded like a higher frequency from somefae so small.

"We're getting a little off track," said Gunther, "is there anyfae else that wants to speak up?"

"Well," said Laurel, "you told everyfae that I was using my own leaves in the soup!"

"You literally grow bay leaves," said Fiona, "do you really want to keep denying it? So unsanitary."

"Fiona!" shouted her roommate Blair. She then slapped her face down into her palm and shook her head.

"AND you told everyfae that Rowan was trying to poison you with his berries," added Laurel.

"She WHAT?" asked Rowan. "I cooked out the toxins. She said it was the best jelly she'd ever had."

"I didn't say he tried to poison me. I said it would have been easy for him to poison me, and I wouldn't want to be getting the batch he made for Turool, because Willow blushed whenever Turool talked to her and everyfae knows that Rowan has a crush on Willow."

"Fiona, how is that not gossip?" asked Willow, her face flushing as she turned back into her tree form. The last thing the dryad needed was for the whole town to see her embarrassment.

"I never said he actually did try to poison Turool. It would have been gossip if I told others that he was giving Turool poison jelly." Fiona was starting to feel defensive. It was like her friends didn't appreciate how open and honest she'd always been.

"What about when you told everyfae Nero tried to kill you?" asked Gretchen.

"The entire walkway was slick with his mucus. If I'd stepped in it, it would have launched me down to the ravine."

"Nero had cold Fiona," chimed in Nero. Gretchen patted his arm in sympathy.

"Wait, we aren't done with what she's said about us Dryads," interjected Willow. "She told everyfae that Aspen was really a Birch."

A gasp emminated from everyfae within the grove.

"I never said she was a Birch," said Fiona, "I said it wouldn't surprise me if she was really a Birch. I saw her bark peeling last month." All eyes turned to Aspen.

"My bark wasn't peeling on it's own!" Aspen cried. "It was a chemical peel!" Aspen buried her face in her hands and ran out of the grove to the trees and turned into her tree form.

"I told you she didn't naturally look that young for a mature Dryad," whispered Thalia to Zoe.

"Hush Harpies, you aren't helping," chimed in Gunther's husband Karl. "This is exactly the problem. It starts with one fae saying something, then everyfae starts talking about it."

"Well I'm not the only one," Fiona defended herself.

"No, but most of it starts with you," said Karl.

The elves of the elven counsel stood in the back of the crowd. Tormund was pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. Morlandra was rubbing her temples. The elves did not understand the rest of the noisy fae. It all seemed beneath them, but it seemed that this issue would not reach a conclusion without their intervention.

"Enough," Tormund said, holding up his hands to call attention to the Elven Counsel.

"Fiona dear," started Luna-Mae, "while honesty is appreciated, it is evident that while you believe you are being honest, the way you relay information may be interpreted otherwise. The information which you are sharing is not based in fact, but conjecture and not objective. Your friends have gathered to raise their concerns in hopes that you may be more aware of the words that you put forth. That being said, let us end this gathering and go about our business."

2 | The rest of the intervention participants nodded in agreement and began dispersing. Soon, the grove was once again clear, while Fiona sat rather dumbfounded as the other Brownies rallied around her.

"It's really not that bad," Rory told her, "at least you didn't have to testify to the High Counsel in the amphitheater and weren't held accountable to anything you implied.

"If you are trying to give her the bright side," said Duncan, "don't."

"We better get back to the tavern before we get an angry mob outside the door," offered Angus. "Let's get going."

As they headed back to the village tavern, Fiona couldn't help feeling all eyes on her as she walked past. The Dryads turned and went into their tree forms when they saw her. Gretchen led Nero in the opposite direction with Wren and Martin flitting after them. When they got to the tavern, the brownies got to work. Fiona began her daily job of sweeping the entrance out front for guests.

As guests started walking in, Fiona could hear the enticing pull of "did you hear that..." and had to focus on not eavesdropping. She squared her shoulders and set to work.

"Sweep, just sweep...Keep sweeping..." she told herself as she noticed a group of pixies gathered in hushed tones and she wondered what they were talking about. Then she noticed them look away from her quickly and she realized they were talking about her! The nerve of those wreckless little pixies - didn't they know how their talking about her behind her back would make her feel? She shook her head and got back to work, sweeping a little more aggressively than she intended. She stopped when she realized she'd swept the bristles right off the broom. She returned inside the tavern and felt everyfae's eyes on her and decided to go up to her room. Upon some self reflection, she realized this must be how everyfae else felt when she would talk about them. Right then and there, she decided she was going to refrain from gossip.

3 | The next week, Fiona stuck to her guns and didn't gossip about anything to anyfae. She found it rather lonely. Without the gossip, she really didn't have anything to talk about. Everyfae took notice of the change in Fiona. While they appreciated her no longer gossiping, it just felt like something was missing.

"Hey Fiona, how are things going?" asked Gretchen.

"Oh it's going well, and how about yourself?" replied Fiona.

"Also well. Did you hear about Aspen after she left the grove last week?" she asked.

"I may have heard others talking, but it's none of my business so I got back to work," she said. "Have a nice meal." Then she walked away.

Gretchen sat at a table in the back by Duncan, Wren, Willow and Gunther.

"Hi everyfae. Have you all noticed how different Fiona is?" asked Gretchen.

"Yes, it feels unnatural," replied Willow, "I know we told her to stop gossiping but coming to the tavern just isn't as fun as it used to be."

"I know," replied Gunther. "Do you think that we actually enjoyed the gossip?"

"Well," replied Wren as she took a deep breath, "we probably enjoyed the gossip when it was about anyfae else but ourselves. Funny even. I know I miss the old Fiona. She seemed so much happier before. Everyfae seemed so much happier before. It seems like while gossiping isn't very nice, she never meant anything malicious, so if we were willing to sometimes be the subject of her gossip, then at least we'd all have something to talk about again. The entire village has been so quiet. Who knew a town gossip was the ONLY person keeping things interesting around here."

"The pixie's right," chimed in Duncan. "We need the old Fiona back." The group hunkered down to come up with a plan.

4 | The next day when Fiona came downstairs to sweep the main room to ready it for guests, she walked into a room full of everyone in town.

"Oh, no, what now?" she asked. "Cross my heart, I haven't said a THING since the grove."

"We know," said Gunther, "that's why we're here."

Fiona looked puzzled.

"This is an anti-vention!" shouted Wren.

More confusion.

"What we're trying to say," said Duncan, "is that, well, we miss your gossip!"

Agreements of "Here! Here!" resounded through the tavern.

"Well," said Fiona, "if that's how you all really feel, I could think about it." Fiona grabbed her broom and started sweeping.

"Well that was anticlimactic," said Gretchen.

"Yeah, I was kind of expecting... something," said Karl. Gunther nodded in agreement.

The room dispersed as everyfae went about their day with a few staying behind in the tavern.

Fiona swept over to the table with Gretchen, Wren, Gunther and Karl. "How is everyfae doing over here?" she asked.

"Starving! I had some pears ripening but this morning they were gone!" exclaimed Wren.

"Do you have any recommendations for breakfast?" asked Gunther.

"Well, you can never go wrong with a skillet for a food recommendation," she said, "but what I don't recommend is running about the grove in the middle of the night in human form, because I heard a certain dryad is now producing saplings if you know what I mean?"

"No!" the group replied.

"Yes. But it's none of my business," said Fiona as she moved onto the next table.

She swept over to the next table asking them if they needed anything.

"Can we get an ale?" asked Aymer/Dagan/Eggert.

"Sure can," said Fiona, "but don't have so many too early in the morning or you'll end up like a certain brownie who's already upstairs taking a nap."

She moved on as Nero walked in. "Hey Nero, sorry about that whole trying to kill me thing. I'll get you some breakfast sausage stew on the house." He really was too sweet to have thought he might be trying to kill her.

"Nero thank Fiona," he said, "Nero super hungry. Only had little fruit." Fiona saw the cores of a few pears in his pocket. She thought maybe to tell Wren, but looked at Nero's innocent face and decided against it.

Maybe she didn't have to talk about everything.

So, lesson not learned, but at least the village was lively again.