The Landscape of Childhood
“Come out, come out, wherever you are”, she called in a singsong whisper. I turned around to see Eilir hunched over a fallen, rotting log, knocking on its undergrowth of mushrooms with a birch stick. “Tinkerbell? Rosetta? Anybody home? You're safe to come out: it's only me, Eilir.” In the land of hobbits, elves, and orcs, there's no better place for a fairy to call home.
