The Fletcher Family Estates

As it appeared many people had before him, Grubb found himself walking across the palatial estate of the Fletcher family. Not that Grubb took notice of direction, but he happened to be on the north side of the manor house, which of course meant strawberries.

Grubb, not more than a few inches tall, absolutely loved sweet things, and these strawberries looked magnificent. He pulled one of the delightful fruits from its stem on a bush. The strawberries weren't his, but no one would miss just one right? There were rows and rows of the plants and more delicious fruits than even he could eat. It was alright, he thought. He held the fruit out in front of him in both hands, almost having to hug the giant berry as he wandered looking for a place to eat his pilfered prize.

The pixie extended his bug-like brown wings, and beat them against the air quickly. He got a bit of altitude, perhaps a few feet, and was able to finally see the house in the middle of the sprawling estate that he had wandered on to. He might have flown in for a closer look (and to eat the strawberry), but something else caught his eye; something that was not like the rest of the healthy green, brown, and yellow. Flying a bit closer, it was clear there had been a fire amongst the corn.

"What a shame! What a crying shame!" Grubb said aloud to himself as he landed on the blackened earth.

He bit a huge mouthful of the berry as he looked around. The soil here, like the soil on the rest of the estate, was wonderfully rich and fertile. This patch of earth at one point had given life to corn, and now it stood bare.

"An absolute travesty!" he said to himself again, only this time a bit louder and with a mouthful of fruit.

Grubb took another bite of fruit before he'd even swallowed the first bit, and set the strawberry on the ground. He turned away from his meal, and bent down to put his hand on the earth. He patted it gently as one might pet a dog or a cat, and then moved his hand around in a little circle on the soil's surface. He beat his wings again, and a tiny bit of brown dirt fell from them, and drifted to the ground slowly. The pixie grabbed up his strawberry, swallowed the wad of fruit in his mouth, and watched.

A single, tiny sprout slowly inched forth from the scorched dirt. It began to grow, very slowly at first, into a sprig, and then into a stalk, and then all at once a single giant corn plant sprang forth from the soil! Grubb stared up at the creation, quite pleased with himself. In this tiny spot, where there was once the blackened remains of burned plant, now stood a corn stalk - strong, tall, and bearing corn fit for any animal that walked or flew!

He rewarded himself with another hulking mouthful of strawberry.

Grubb loved berries, especially these berries, but a pie, a real pie? That was something special! Grubb would, occasionally enough, come upon the raw plant material to make himself some berries, but given that he had no money and wasn't terribly popular with the big-folk, baked goods were far more valuable to him.

The pixie dropped his strawberry, and snapped to attention. The little pixie gave a tiny solute to the gardener.

"For a pie, I'll have the whole place standing tall in no time!"

Grubb bent down, as he had before, and patted the soil near his feet. He looked up at the gardener, then at the charred earth, and then back at the gardener once more.

"I can't - I can't do it with you watching. It makes me nervous." he continued to look up at the gardener until the man turned away (or at a minimum denied his request vehemently enough that Grubb would have to do it with him watching).

Confident that he was no longer under the judging eye of the gardener (or not, depending on the man's reaction), Grubb bent down again and patted the ground. He moved his hand in a little circle, beat a bit of brown dust off of his wings, and once again his magic began to work. A tiny sprout grew into a little sprig, which grew into a mighty stalk of corn.

Grubb moved forward several steps, beating his wings as he went, and repeated his little ritual. After a couple of corn stalks had grown up, he was entirely engrossed in his work, and would be completely unaware of the gardener watching or not.

"I. Like. Pie." he said to himself as he bent down, patting the ground between each word. This was his way of keeping himself focused, as he knew this was exactly the type of task he could easily be distracted from; something he couldn't risk with pie hanging in the balance.

With repetition, Grubb's magic began to work faster. His stops to repeat the patting ritual became less and less frequent, as just the simple beating of his wings began to be enough make the corn spring forth from the charred soil. The pixie's work began to produce straight rows of perfectly spaced corn, each and every plant with ears all ready for harvest.