The Good Lord Gaerona

At the farthest reaches of the Lost Desert, there is a wall, lined with plants, and a single opening flanked by torches.

That wall is part of a ruin – within, there is a garden among the crumbling masonry.

One would think it would be overrun by wildly growing flora and wild petpets -- but it is neat and reasonably well cared for - including some plants that, curiously, aren’t native to the Lost Desert.

Within the garden sits a statue, very large, that very few get to see - a Relic Scorchio, flanked by a feathered headdress and feathered wings. He looks forward with a stern expression, as if daring anyone to put a paw out of place.

And with a great groan, that statue - Lord Gaerona - shuddered and stretched.

“It gets harder and harder each time.”

He cast an eye over his domain. “Come on out,” he called. “I’m too stiff to hurt you.” Not that he would, but they didn’t need to know that.

He turned at tapping on the cobblestones. From under a hedge shaped like a bucking uni, something scuttled out.

It was a selket - he thought. Regular selkets were a color best described as a dark reddish clay. This one was orange, with yellow appendages.

“Interesting.” Bending down, he offered his claw, which the selket accepted. Gaerona turned his claw as the petpet scuttled over it. “And where is your owner?” An eye was cast over the gathering of plants, toward the entryway, looking for a neopet to poke their head in.

Nothing.

“Hm. You’re lost. So be it!” He boomed. “Perhaps your owner will come calling -” If they can cross the Lost Desert “- but until then, it shall be you and me.”

He spoke with all the dignity and gravitas awarded to his station, but inside he was quite giddy.

It wasn’t every day he got to be sentient.

—

Gaerona was happy to allow visitors into his walled garden. Most were dead, some were living, but all were welcome.

Depending on the visitor, he could shepherd them to the afterlife, or offer tea and herbs.

When they were gone, he would become a statue once more, lording over his domain. A curse, from a faerie eons ago.

Apparently, that curse had not considered petpets breaking the curse. Smiling smugly, he cast an eye over his garden.

A garden that grew whenever he was inanimate. His smile faded.

“And that means,” he grumbled, staring at a tangle of plants crawling up a column. “All my ring plants are one big knot.” He sighed. “What shall I do?”

The selket settled atop a large, drooping palm frond, blinking slowly.

“Any suggestions?” He said. He nodded, pretending the petpet could respond. “You think so? Let’s try it.”

He took a deep breath, feeling the rumble of fire in his chest. With a steady stream, Gaerona burned the worst of the knotted plans to ash. But there was something …unsatisfying about it.

He was alive, and there was beauty in the mundane tasks. “I think we’ll try this way instead. My back will be in knots by the end of it, but alas.”

Sighing, he sat down beside the boulder and carefully snipped the ring plants with his claws, keeping them as intact as possible.

After what felt like hours, he straightened and looked at the selket, who had stayed patiently by his side. “Much better. What do you think?”

The steady, even breathing of the petpet told him it had found the afternoon sun too nice to resist. It had gone to earth and fallen asleep in a patch of clover. Gaerona huffed. “A snoozing selket,” he laughed. “Who would have thought?”

—

At night, Gaerona studied the heavens. He did not want to sleep, getting enough rest as a statue.

“You see that?” The selket sat upon his shoulder, and it seemed to heed his words, casting its eyes up, following his outstretched claw. “Based on the moon I bet that latest snooze was a good month, at least,” He sighed.

Who could imagine the state of the furthest reaches of his garden after an entire month? The ring plants would look like a manicured garden in comparison. Gaerona didn’t mind hard work - he relished it - but when that’s all one had to look forward to when one awoke from slumbers of indeterminate length -

A warm wind ruffled his feathery wings, snapping him out of his morose thoughts. Extending them, with a powerful jump, Gaerona hovered slightly higher than the height of the crumbling columns - he was still made of stone, his wings of feathers, and could not go very high. The selket started, and then with its rapidly moving wings, flew around his head.

They flew through the moonlight, soaring over the garden, buoyed by the warm air currents and the relief, the joy of being alive. When Gaerona almost collided with a column is when he settled back to earth, with the selket still bobbing in the air above him.

With boisterous laughter, he scooped the selket out of the air, roaring, “What a night to be alive!”

–

“Mistress Casily,” Gaerona boomed, “The pleasure, as always, is mine.” He had shrunk to a reasonable (but still taller) size to embrace her.

Casily was a pink gnorbu with a voluminous, curly mane and a large burlap hat, protecting her from the blazing sun of midday. She pulled a handcart filled with bags of what smelled like - semolina manure. “Oho, really, it’s a treat every time I get to visit.” She looked around. “Been busy?”

“It seems as if the work grows with each passing day.”

“Well, I got your - oh!” The selket, previously hiding beneath one plant or another, fluttered around Casily. It seemed to tilt its head in confusion at another visitor.

“Ooh a little fluttery fellow! Why, I bet you’re busy, too! What’s his name, Lord?”

“...Haunim.” It sprang unbidden to his lips. Gaerona wasn’t sure where the name came from, but he knew it fit his friend well. Haunim settled atop her hat, appearing to enjoy his new vantage point as he looked around. “I think he’d like to join us.”

Laughing, she set down her cart. “Well, come along, Haunin!”

Mistress Casily was in the market for several water lilies. “My niece, big party, particularly fond of the Mystery Island Bog Lily - all the rage in Faerieland, but of course, no faeries would want to muddy themselves - ” Gaerona let her talk as they walked through the garden, Haunim settled comfortably on her hat.

When the ground grew a touch soggier underfoot, Gaerona put a paw gently on her shoulder. “I’ll stop you there. It can get slippery. I’ll be back.”

The ground turned muddy as he went forward, curving downward until it met the side of a water meadow. Trees with drooping leaves hung on the sides, pond weeds that brushed by his feet.

He heard fluttering; Haunim had followed and was keeping pace, hopping form lily pad to lily pad.

When Gaerona was sure he was out of Casily’s view, he used his magic to grow larger, easier to push through the mud, but not so large he would disrupt the moss that grew atop the water meadow.

He was suddenly besieged by gnats, who enjoyed the mucky environment. Gaerona swiped at them, grumbling as he pushed forward. Despite being made of stone, he still didn't want them near him!

He closed his eyes, continuing to push slowly through the water and mud. Gaerona was made of stone, but he didn’t want bugs in his face.

He sensed he was near - there were more lily pads to bump into - He would have to open his eyes.

There was a buzzing, clicking sound, and Gaerona felt a breeze by his face. Then another. He opened an eye to see most of the gnats had disappeared - and Haunim fluttering through their number.

Gaerona was not certain was happening - it appeared Haunim was eating the bugs. This was confirmed with what he believed was a small burp.

He chuckled. “Thank you, friend.” Haunim continued flying ahead, landing upon … a Mystery Island Bog Lily! “And well done!”

—

Gaerona misted a thornberry plant. Haunim was somewhere nearby. At first, he was concerned - if the selket fluttered too far away, would his curse kick in? - The sentient statue realized as long as his pet – what a funny thing to think, that he had a pet – flew within the garden, he would be alive.

Then, instinct kicked in. Someone was at the gate to the garden. Rising easily now, he passed through his plants, rocks, broken columns, and puddles to the entrance to the wall. He snapped his claws, and felt, rather than saw, the torches alight on the outside.

He reached for his feathered, encircled headpiece on the wall. As he adjusted it, Gaerona cleared his throat and began the ritual, roaring. “Speak, be you mortal or more, for you have approached the domain of Lord Gaerona. ”

Something responded in an irritatingly soft whimper. He hated when they did that. “What? Speak up! ”

A red Zafara stepped forward into the ruins At the sight of the towering statue, she stopped.

“‘Scuse me,” The Zafara gave a hasty curtesy. “I - my name is Windij, I was looking for my petpet.”

Gaerona nodded once, and she babbled on.

“H-he’s a selket, goldy-yellow, with curved…things,” The zafara curled her paws so only two fingers showed, and she wiggled them in the air. “He likes to travel, Betik does.”

At the name Betik , Haunim rose from a Friendfrond Bush and flew at Windij. He began overing around her shoulders, and Gaerona’s stomach dropped as she giggled. “Betik! How did you get this far?”

As petpet and owner were reunited, Gaerona felt a familiar dread cross his heart. But he had to be the gracious host. “How ….lucky that he did not come to harm crossing the sands. I hadn’t seen this kind of selket before,” he rumbled. “What variant is Haunim - Betik?”

“He is a mutant selket. I found it charming that he blended more into the sands this way.”

“I see. Betik has been a wonderful companion in my garden.” He genuinely meant it. At first, it was only about being alive. But the selket had made him laugh, observing the leaves, sleeping beneath them in the hot sun, and fluttering around for insects. “And to myself. I will be sorry to see him go.”

“ Truthfully, Lord…he don’t have the space to fly about in our little home in Tedri’ako.” Windij looked about. “It’s beautiful here. I can’t see how he’d ever be bored.” She watched Betik climb around the roses. “Would it be alright with you, if Betik stayed?”

Gaerona blinked. A stream of thoughts ran through his head - What do they eat? What if he gets sick?

“Hmm,” He stroked his chin, brow furrowed in mock thought. “There’s plenty of space, and I need something here to keep the pests in line.” He shrugged. “I suppose it makes sense. He may stay.”

Windij beamed.”I’ll bring his bed - if I can find me way back…” She looked uncertain.

Gaerona did not think Betik would need it, but he tapped a claw to the Zafara’s forehead anyway. “Here is a blessing; You will be able to return. I’m sure he would appreciate your visits.”

As Windij tied a cloth around her face and stepped back into the desert, Gaerona held his breath. When her figure disappeared into the horizon, he looked at Betik, settled on his shoulder.

“I was going to get back to work - but now, I’ve got all the time in the world.” As he turned into the ruins leading to his garden, Lord Gaerona kept going “Let’s go to the west pond - you haven’t seen it yet - draphlys all over…”