All of her neighbours agreed to help. Mr. Squirrel would hook-up nuts from his East-side stash so that her baby could fill his belly and grow into the ogre he would become. Then, he would not cry from hunger. Miss Mourning Dove would show him all the wildflower pastures and enchanted waterfalls and gnome caves and all the wonderful things she had seen on her flights of luxurious discovery throughout the ancient forest. Then, he would not cry from not knowing where he was. Mr. Owl agreed to teach him the languages of the waters, the winds, the trees, and the fairies. Then, he would never cry from being alone and helpless in the world because there would always be someone or something to talk to.
“Could you teach him the language of fairies first?” asked Miranda, who was already eager to share with her baby all of her thoughts and feelings and to have him understand her.
“Well, of course, my dear.” he answered kindly. Secretly, though, he wondered and worried that Miranda had given herself too quickly and too completely to something she did not understand.
Mr. Snake too had an interest in the child. “Purely scientific, see?” he explained. “I’d like to study his somatic structuring, senses, and such, so that the illustrious Mr. Owl here might better find him a trade of some sort, so that he does not grow into a waste of forest resources.” Mr. Snake was a cynic. His hisses were a constant laughter at the world. If this would work, then that wouldn’t; and if things went according to plan, he called it fluke. He did not always say what he believed, though there was always some truth behind his lies. He was even cleverer than Mr. Owl, though not as wise or scrupulous, and he had tried to eat Miss Mourning Dove.
Everybody was curious and they hurried to see Miranda’s baby ogre on the banks by the stream. Miss Mourning dove agreed to carry Mr. Squirrel, or rather refused to carry Mr. Snake. He was left to the charge of Mr. Owl who had a short bout of déjà vu. A thought popped into Miranda’s heart as she raced on ahead of the others.
Near the creamy white water-lilies there was a raspberry bush that produced the most delicious raspberries in the entire forest. When Miranda arrived, she saw that the bush was in flower, so she used her fairy magic to cause a single branch ripen. Then she plucked a plump ruby of a raspberry that was about as big as she was. She had no problem carrying it because fairies’ muscles are as strong as their wills, and Miranda’s will was strengthened by love. She flew up to a bustling bee-hive not too far from the bush. The worker bees were busy doing spring fix-ups of the hive, so it was difficult to get their attention; but the bees knew Miranda well and filled her raspberry cup to the brim with sweet golden honey.
With a “thanks”, a pirouette of delight, and a flash of green lightening Miranda was waking her baby ogre Etham with a fairy kiss on each of his eyelids. When he opened his eyes and saw the glowing pink ball of light that was Miranda holding the honey-filled raspberry, he smiled his first smile. Miranda turned blushing red roses. Etham opened his mouth and laughed his first laugh. She dropped the berry in. He smacked his mouth and smiled. The raspberry was as tart as the honey was sweet. Miranda shone more brightly and more happily than she ever had before; the sun and the moon beamed out of her heart.
The neighbours arrived at the same time. Everybody else’s first thought was that he was the ugliest thing any of them had ever seen. After a few minutes, however, they had accustomed themselves to the sight of him and began to think about how he must be feeling, so cold and alone. Miranda was right, they thought: he was too pathetic not to be adorable, in his own way, at least when he wasn’t crying.
He was not crying now because he was enthralled by the beauty of the light who had given him gentle dreams of honey and raspberries and woken him to give him just that. He adored her, and his adoration inspired their deeper love. He loved, and his love brought them together into one. He knew that her light would never leave him, and that gave him a comfort profound and sure.
Even all together, baby ogre Etham was too heavy for them to move. So, the team co-operated to build the baby ogre a shelter of sticks, stones, and mud right on the shore where he lay. It was not splendid, but it was the best they could do. He could roll over, but not stand up. It would keep the rain out of his eyes, the wind off his body, and protect him from the sun. They knew that pretty soon he would be strong enough to build his own house of rocks and mortar, a strong house that would last for ages.