Tindall's House

A Story by Annabelle Lee

a story about a girl who comes across a house in a little hill, inhabited by a kind creature. they share stories and tea

Ordinarily, little hills have little else than grass, a few crickets, and maybe some humble flowers. That's why when I came across a little hill, I was caught off guard by its peculiarity.

Yes, it did have grass and I'm sure some crickets, along with some flowers, but there was an orange door. Not a regular orange door. It was a bit crooked and was a very rustic orange color. Some of the paint was chipping off. And more to the orange door was the bright pink doorknob.

This had already struck my curiosity, but there was another thing. A small, round window with eight triangle-shaped glass panes, and a glass circle in the middle. The wood surrounding it was dark blue, and was also chipping. And above the window was a bright yellow flower.

This was the most curious thing I'd ever seen! I'd never seen anything like it. I peered in through the window and saw a quaint fire in the fireplace.

So I took a gulp and stepped up to the door. I raised my fist and gave two quick taps.

I heard a little rustle. Who could be in there? What could be in there? Would it be a person, or maybe a talking animal? My imagination found no limits while I stood there.

I held my breath as the door opened, until the smell of roses caressed my senses. Quickly following that was an odd sight; I want to say that it was an old man, but I'm not even sure if he was a human! He had pointy ears and the most exciting eyes I had ever seen, even 'til this day. The creature's nose was very wide and reminded me of a cat's. His belly stuck out quite a bit, and was covered with an old yellow vest and a brown jacket on top of that.

He removed one of his hands from his jacket pocket and outstretched it. "Why, hello there."

I realized that my jaw had dropped open slightly, so I decided to actually say something. And, as I've always thought, you should always say something interesting when you first meet a person. "Yes, hello. What exquisite spectacles you have."

His much wrinkled face broke into an even bigger smile. "Thank you ever so much! What a charming thing you are." We shook hands cordially. His hands were a little bigger than average and were quite hairy. "Tell me, child, what brings you here?"

I tried to think about it. What did bring me here? I don't quite remember. And I told him so, adding, "I was just strolling along and I saw this hill, which I thought was intriguing because I'd never seen a door and a window in a hill before, you see."

"Ah yes, I adore my hill." He suddenly recalled something. "Where are my manners? Please, please come inside." So he gently tugged my hand into the door.

What a welcoming sight! There was the fireplace once again and I saw that it was made of stone. The mantle had numerous drawings in simple frames.

"Oh! Are you an artist?" I exclaimed, pointing to the sketches.

The man laughed. "No, no, sometimes a raven comes by and draws something for me, then soars away. A very good friend, you know."

How whimsical, a raven who draws.

I continued gazing around the room. There were many books and scrolls, some of them hidden under each other, and I thought I saw one sticking out from under one of the chairs. I looked for a bed, but I only saw a hammock in the corner. A lantern was hanging in the wall near it, and there was a little table with one of the legs missing, propped up by a wooden turtle figure.

"Now that you've gotten a good look at the place," the man interrupted my thoughts. "Maybe we should sit down and have a warm drink."

"Yes, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy."

He chuckled. "I know, dear. I'm only teasing. I don't mind one bit. I'm quite proud of my home." While he was saying this, he was quietly bustling around and getting things set up for tea. "Do sit."

So I found a lavender chair near the fireplace. It was very lumpy, but in a comfortable, kindly way.

My companion rolled up a cart that carried a tray on it, which carried a tea kettle and some chipped mugs.

The chipped mugs made me smile because they reminded me of one of my mother's tea cups.

Before the man sat down, I noticed that he moved something out of the way. Why, I do believe that it was a tail! I tried not to stare, but I think it was a donkey's tail.

"I believe that we haven't made introductions. My name is Tindall."

"It's very nice to meet you," I started. "I'm.." And I had forgotten my name! Can you imagine forgetting your own name? To say the least, I was very embarrassed.

When I told him so, he said, nicely, "That's alright, my dear. Perhaps you'll think of it soon,"

We started sipping our tea contently by the fire. It was the sweetest fire I'd ever seen. I could've sworn that it was whispering to me.

"Your fire..?" I asked softly.

"It's very nice, isn't it? I've had it for a long time. Lovely to fall asleep to." Tindall's eyes looked happy. Upon further inspection, I saw how very exciting they were, like I said before.

They reminded me of fall, oddly enough. Tindall's eyes were mostly blue, but there were hints of orange, and maroon, like the autumn leaves that swirl outside of my bedroom window at dusk. There might've been a bit of yellow too, but sometimes I couldn't tell.

On top of all that, they were sparkling. Not like you'd ever seen before. It was a subtle sparkle that made me want to smile.

"How long have you lived here?" I questioned.

"Oh, about thirty years,"

Wow, that's a long time.

Tindall gave a little chuckle, perhaps because of fond memories he's had over those thirty years. "Tell me something about yourself, dear,"

"Well," I started. What could I say to this exquisite man that seems so much more interesting than me? "My parents say that I roam around a lot."

He laughed. "What does that mean?" he looked at me over the rim of his cup, amused.

"I think that they really mean that I like to explore." Then I added, as an afterthought, "I do wander off, maybe a little bit, but that's just because I'm curious."

When Tindall laughed more, I shrugged and said, "Honest!"

We were quiet for a few moments, being content with each other's company. I began looking around more. Actually, I was trying to find the source of the roses I kept smelling.

"Do you smell roses?" I inquired.

"Oh, yes," Tindall replied readily. "I adore roses. They're all over, really."

I nodded, but couldn't spot a single rose.

"Roses remind me of my first love."

"Tell me about her!" I whispered with excitement.

As he began, I wiggled in the chair and tucked my legs underneath me. "Her name was Gwen." he told me wistfully.

"She was a nymph. A wood-nymph." My eyes widened. I'd only read about them! "She was stunning. But how could she notice someone as ordinary as me?"

"You're the least ordinary person I know!" I blurted out. At first, I regretted saying it, but my intentions were good, I swear.

Tindall must've thought so too, because he smiled and thanked me. "That's a very nice thing to say,"

"Anyhow, she was much more extraordinary than me. Her hair smelled of rain. And roses. She was...thrilling. Her laugh carried across the whole wood. What a laugh." Tindall began to gaze into the fire, as if he could see Gwen's face. So I gazed into the fire, too. "Gwen was also very kind, she always blew kisses to the birds on the wind. I was so relieved when she smiled at me when I finally introduced myself!"

"Did she fall in love with you too?" I asked, my eyelids fluttering as I nestled myself further into the warm chair.

"Yes, we fell deeply in love."

"Where is she?"

Tindall cleared his throat. "Her sisters thought me a fool."

"And she believed them?" I proclaimed, sitting up in my chair.

"No, no. She still loved me. But I could see that she missed her sisters. They were wood nymphs like her. I couldn't talk to the breeze like them. So I let her go."

"Were you sad?"

"Yes, for some time. But I moved on." he sighed. "There are lots of different kinds of love. And you should always love someone, be it your mother, your friend, or even your kitten."

He became very serious all of a sudden. "Promise me that you'll always love someone, dear."

My eyebrows rose a little. Perhaps he had been hurt many times by love. After all, I didn’t see anyone else with him in the hill. "I promise, Tindall. I love my mother and father, and even my pet caterpillar. My sister and I get along most of the time, and I love her."

Tindall kind of sighed with relief then. "Love is very powerful, dear."

"Yes, sir,"

"How did you like your tea?" Tindall asked, sipping the last of his.

"Oh, it was the most delicious tea I've ever had." I smiled with gratitude.

Tindall waved his hand. "A gnome gave me the recipe. A nice old sport."

"Sir, may I ask, are you magical?" I had wondered this ever since I had met him.

Tindall laughed. "There are lots of different types of magic, dear."

"I know, but can you do tricks and make things happen? I'm just curious, you see."

Tindall shifted in his chair. "I can do some tricks. Simple things that I've learned from friends."

I'm positive that my eyes lit up. This adventure was already story-worthy, and the most lovely thing that's ever happened. And to add magic to the mix?

Tindall got up out of his chair and walked to a tiny little cabinet. He took three things out from a tiny little drawer. When he sat back down, I unfolded my legs from underneath me, and leaned forward.

He looked very amused. He opened his left hand and in it was a rose petal. Is the tiny cabinet where he keeps the roses? Tindall closed his palm and then reopened it.

There wasn't a rose petal anymore. It was a small mouse. Immediately, I fell in love with her. She was so small! Yet her ears so big! And her eyes gleamed knowingly at me. I'm not sure what she knew, but she did know.

I was speechless for a moment. "That-that is amazing! How did you--? Where did you--?" Then my mouth just hung open.

Tindall chuckled and gently handed me the mouse.

"She was a rose petal!" I said as I examined her.

"Would you like to keep her?"

My eyes snapped back up to Tindall's face. "Are you sure? She is your mouse, er, rose, er creation?"

Tindall laughed. "You obviously love her. And the more things you love, the better."

I could not stop smiling. "Thank you so much," I whispered.

The cliche thing to do would be to name her "Rosy" but I would think of a name later.

I had forgotten about the other two things that Tindall had in his hand.

The next thing was a little piece of golden paper. It shined in the firelight. In a series of quick movements, he held it folded in his hand, and with a shy breath, sent it flying over to me. It was a little sailboat! It floated around my head, and brushed past the mouse's whiskers. The sailboat landed on my nose, and I took it in my own hand. It unfolded itself and on the inside it read "Look at the fire". So I did.

It was dancing! Not in a poetic sense, a literal one. But it was a story too. It told of how a little girl came across a small hill and was invited inside. There I was, sitting in the chair by the fire with Tindall.

I couldn't believe it. "You call this 'simple'?"

Tindall shrugged modestly.

He then held up a burnt match. Not as extravagant as the rest, but I had no doubts.

"This will fix anything. But you have to be gentle with it, the burned part is tender." He carefully handed it to me. Then Tindall knocked down his mug and it smashed on the floor.

"Fix it," he said simply, with a grin.

So I lowered the match to the cup and the tip glowed like an ember for a second. I was sure to be very cautious. Next thing I knew, the mug was mended! In perfect condition, too.

"Very good," Tindall granted.

"Thank you," I handed the match back to him, but he threw it in the fire.

"Why did you do that?" I babbled.

Tindall gave a shrug. "I like broken things,"

There was no further explanation.

I stroked the mouse. Her fur had traces of red in it, but you had to look very carefully. I had almost forgotten that she was a rose petal a few minutes ago.

For a while longer Tindall and I spoke of many things by the fire. I told a story, he told a story, going back and forth, both listening intently. He made me feel like an equal, even though he must've been a great deal older than I. That was hard to come by with adults, at the time. I know it wasn't their fault, but sometimes they treated me as if I knew nothing. But I disagreed; I thought I knew quite a lot of things.

Anyhow, Tindall proved to be very riveting. He could ride a unicycle! I thought it would've been harder with hooves for feet, but it didn't seem like it was a problem, since he rode it so well. And when I asked him about it, he replied with, "No, dear, but it is difficult to find shoes. No matter, I do not prefer them anyhow", which I thought was delightful, because I don't like to wear shoes in the summer.

We sat back down in the chairs. He started humming a song, and the fire whispered to me once again. It complemented me, and the mouse crawled up to my shoulder to sit there, pleased as punch. She was a sweet thing.

My eyelids began to flutter as they did when Tindall was telling me his story about Gwen.

"Would you like to return home, dear?" Tindall asked me.

"It is so nice here though." I remarked, almost sleeping. "I would be scared to never talk to you again,"

Tindall laughed a little. "You are kind, child. I do enjoy your company." I faintly heard him get out of his chair. "Thank you for stumbling upon my home. Take care of the mouse for me. And don't forget your promise."

I felt his hand upon my forehead, and it was cool. I might've mumbled a "goodbye" or a "farewell", but I cannot recall.

When I awoke, I was where I started before I found the hill. I was in a park. I remembered now. I was with my parents, and I had wandered off yet again to explore. It seemed that I was behind a tree. I glanced on the other side of it and saw the swings a little farther away.

Then I looked ahead of me, in search of the hill, but, as I expected, I saw nothing but more trees and shrubs.

At first I panicked because I thought it was all a dream. But something moved near my hand, in the leaves. A mouse's head popped up. I started laughing as I saw the traces of red in her fur.

Silently, I thanked Tindall for this gift of magic and for my adventure.

I told few people about that day, including my children when they were at a certain age.

I am pleased to say that one fine day at the park, one of my daughters came running back telling me that she had in fact met Tindall.

My dear one handed me a note of golden paper. My fingers trembled as I opened it and read, "Your daughter is as lovely as you were when I met you. Hoping you are well, Tindall"

I still have that note, and I still tend to that mouse. I do not think she will ever die, just like the memories we have of Tindall.