The Newt Queen’s Ball was in full swing at Bluebell Pond. Around the outskirts, the reeds held aloft tiny lanterns, delicately hung by fairies to provide a gleeful light, flickering away in time to the music. Closer to the water level, leaves and lily pads provided floating banquet tables, laden with the literal fruits of the forest and other delicacies. The atmosphere was as vibrant as the fairies wings, glittering iridescently in the light as they hovered softly just above water level.
In the centre of the pond, frogs, newts and the occasional toad danced, sending ripples through the water that blended with those caused by their fellow revelers. Just above them, the fairies danced too, their delicate wings beating softly to hold them aloft. Water boatmen skittered across the surface of the pond, and high above the fairies danced the dragonflies and moths.
From the side of the pond, a palisade carefully formed of mud housed the band, playing tiny instruments formed of natural materials. From acorn shell drums and reed fibre guitars to twig flutes and snail-shell oboes, the fairy orchestra played to the crowd, sensing the mood and shifting the song to the whims of the dancers. All the while, they were overlooked by the noble Newt Queen, casting sweeping gazes across her pond to make sure all who attended behaved.
Hopping down the bark-coated path with his partner, Mr Frog took in the sight of his first Ball, a wonderous look in his eyes.
“Isn’t it marvellous?!” Mrs Frog croaked, her webbed front foot slipping under her husband’s as she saw the floating feasts and the harmony of the partygoers. “You’d never get anything like this at Ant Stream.”
“No…” The husband uttered, the frog agog over the grand spectacle. “We would not. My dear, beautiful wife, would you care to dance?” He asked, a smile crossing his face as she coyly bowed her head in acceptance.
The pair took a deep breath, before heading to the water’s edge, ready to join the revellers for the night of peace.