Dancing among Stars

A girl was born with music in her heart and dancing in her veins. From a young age, her parents could hear her singing as she played, and she asked her mother for swishy skirts so she could dance like the princesses in the stories her grandfather told her.

Her parents loved her dearly, and wherever she went, people found themselves smiling sooner or later. The entire village was fond of the little girl, of her infectious laughter and her bright spirit.

The little girl made flower crowns to gift to grandmothers and grandfathers and widows, and she made little daisy necklaces for the older children that got ready for their midsummer dances.

"One day I’ll dance with them," she told her father as she sat on his shoulders, watching the twirling figures around the big fire, the bright colors and happy, smiling faces with shining eyes.

"I’m sure you will," her father said with a laugh in his voice. "I don’t doubt it for a second."

Later that night, they saw stars streak across the sky, and the entire village held up their cups, shouting their joy up at the sky. A blessing awaited those who saw traveling stars during the midsummer night, for the gods loved the stars, and anyone who made them move was sure to be held in high regard.

The bonfire burnt ever brighter that night, and the little girl danced and danced until her mother picked her up with a laugh, and she promptly fell asleep in her mother’s arms.

Her family walked home to the sight of stars dancing across the sky and the moon’s bright shine. And blessings did seem to await the entire village; their harvest was bountiful, their animals strong and healthy and the ale they brewed honey-golden.

The little girl cared little about those things, but she loved how glad and joyful everyone was. People were working hard, but they greeted everyone with smiles and travelers seemed to enjoy passing through.

Flowers bloomed bright and plentiful, and many had gotten to paint their doors this year and re-thatch their roofs. Traders remarked on how merry the villagers were and how beautiful the place was. The villagers just smiled and said that they had pleased the stars well with their midsummer festival.

The little girl danced and sang through the seasons, weaving crowns of flowers and straw and grass until winter arrived. Then she danced through the snow and sang with the birds as she fed them crumbs, her parents watching with loving smiles.

The years passed swiftly, and each midsummer, the stars danced with the village, and everyone shouted their joy to the night sky, holding their cups as high as they could.

It was well known by then that good trade could be made in their village, that it was a very happy place.

The little girl had grown into a young woman who would finally get to dance around the fire at midsummer for the first time. She was so happy that she had been singing and humming all day, dancing a little in the kitchen, and even when she sat to weave herself a flower crown, her feet tapped to the song she was making up.

When she got to dance at last, her childhood dream coming true, she found herself looking up at the sky again and again, the stars shining brighter than ever before.

Her parents swore to everyone who was willing to listen that their daughter glowed that night, looking more beautiful than anyone else. That she danced with a passion and love that burned as bright as the bonfire in front of her, if not brighter.

More stars than in previous years streaked across the sky, and the young woman danced and danced until only embers remained of the large fire, and her parents ushered her home. She was asleep the second her head hit the pillow, a smile on her face.

"What do you want to do now?" her grandfather asked the next morning when her feet and legs were too sore to walk much, but her spirits were high. "It’s time for a new dream, isn’t it?"

"Maybe now, one of the young folk will catch her attention," her mother joked with a laugh. "One or two have certainly tried."

"They have?" the young woman asked and her parents just grinned at each other while her grandfather chuckled.

"Don’t mind them," he told her. "Neither your parents nor those hopeful suitors. What do you want to do?"

That made the young woman pause. She hadn’t thought too much about what came after being chosen for the midsummer dance. She had always assumed that she would stay and continue working on her parents' farm, and one day, well, one day she’d be too old to dance.

She puzzled over the idea of another dream for the rest of the day and when she sat outside that night, enjoying the gentle winds before bed, she looked up at the sky.

"Is it wrong?" she asked out loud. "That I don’t know what I want to do with my life?"

The stars twinkled and then, to her utter astonishment, one of the stars stepped down from the sky to sit beside her.

The star was beautiful, clothes made of stardust glimmering and shining and draping across the ground as though the fabric was made of light feathers.

"No," the star answered in a voice both soft and loud, both near and far. The star smiled at her, jewelry like a dozen suns and eclipses tinkling as they turned to face her properly. "But if it’s not too much to ask, please keep dancing for us?"

The young woman found herself smiling wide. "Gladly." She tipped her head, then leapt to her feet and started to dance right then and there.

The star glowed brighter in surprised delight, clapping their hands and then they began to sing, and the young woman laughed in joy. It was a beautiful melody, one she had never heard before.

By the next twirl, the star stood and offered a bow and their hand. She took it, and a moment later, they were dancing together across earth and grass, round and round as the night sky seemed to glow brighter and brighter with stars that watched on.

Once she had exhausted herself, the star accompanied her to her door and bowed over her hand in parting. "Thank you," they said, "for this beautiful night."

The next morning, the young woman woke up to find priceless gems falling out of the folds of the dress she had worn the previous night. Every flower on the farm had bloomed and every single apple on the trees looked big and rosy and perfect.

Her parents puzzled over the sudden blessing, but her grandfather gave her a knowing look, a twinkle in his eyes.

"It has been a while," he said, "since a star has touched our world. The gods are very, very happy."

The young woman hadn’t even thought about that. She had just been happy to have a companion who took just as much joy in dancing as she did. Someone who glowed as brightly as her heart whenever she did what she loved most with every fiber of her being.

That night, the young woman stepped outside again, and as she began to dance, the star appeared, offering their hand once more. She took it, and they danced until the hour grew late. The young woman felt like she was floating with joy, and the star glowed as brightly as ever before.

"May I see you again?" the star asked, once more bowing over her hand in parting. Their touch was gentle and warm with an immediate brush of coldness afterwards. Like standing in sunshine while a cool wind blew.

"Yes, I’d like that," the young woman answered. She motioned for the star to wait and quickly ducked inside.

She returned with a flower crown she had woven that day, the gems that had fallen out of her dress sewn and woven into it. She had decorated the crown until it looked the way she imagined the wild crown of woodland faeries would look.

When the star bent towards her upon her request, she delicately put it upon their head.

"Thank you for dancing with me," she said when they looked up in surprise, reaching an elegant hand up to lightly touch pink petals. "I hope you like it."

"No one had ever given me anything," the star murmured, and a sweet, awed smile spread across their face. "I will treasure it until the end of time."

She believed them, that they likely even meant it literally, and said goodnight. The next morning, she woke to find a crown made of a softly glowing metal and gems she had never seen before lying atop her dress. Even the blacksmith seemed baffled when she showed it to him.

"You are something special, lass," the strong man murmured, handing the crown back with careful fingers and shining eyes. He smiled, small but fond. "I think we were very blessed when you were born."

She hugged him in gratitude and said her goodbyes, leaving with the crown held in appreciative hands.

Their farm had grown more fruit trees overnight, and their horses and sheep were in perfect health and wonderfully sweet-tempered. Their cows produced more milk than ever, and the shells of their chickens' eggs held a faintly golden shimmer.

"I think you have done something wondrous," her mother said that evening as they sat together for supper. "For neither your father nor grandfather nor I can remember pleasing the gods this much."

"I’ve been dancing with a star," the young woman answered, and her parents looked surprised.

"A star?" her father asked and seemed to have no idea what to say next when she nodded. Then he frowned. "And you are being safe? Stars are wonderful, but they are known for whisking people they like away, never to be seen again."

"That’s how new stars are made," her mother pitched in. "At least, that’s what I heard." She reached out to cover her daughter’s hand. "Please be careful, I’d rather contend with the gods' wrath than lose you."

The young woman felt very touched at those words, and she gave her mother’s hand a reassuring squeeze. "I’ll be careful, I promise."

"They’re not the fae," her grandfather added. "They will ask you, not just take you."

"Don’t worry," the young woman promised. "I have no intentions of leaving."

She loved living here with her parents, with friendly and jovial neighbors in a village where people helped and cared for each other. She got to wake up to the warm, sweet scent of her mother’s baking and spent her days working on the farm. And now she got to dance at night with someone rather incredible.

"We trust you," her mother said with a smile. "So, tell us about your star."

The young woman didn’t know all that much, she realized. She just knew her star loved dancing as much as she did and was ever so polite and respectful.

That night, as they danced, she asked what felt like a million questions. She learned that the favorite color of her star was the color of an imploding endlessness, that they enjoyed the taste of a first, deep breath and the sound of anticipatory waiting.

It made little sense to her, but her star talked passionately and asked her just as many questions in return.

The next day, she found iridescent and shimmering fruit lying on her dress, and it tasted like giddy love and promises when she bit into it. Her parents planted the seeds, curious about what might grow.

Night after night, they danced and spoke with each other, and as the seasons changed around them, the young woman felt like she knew everything there was to know about her star. Every morning, a new gift of the gods awaited her, though she couldn’t care less about those.

"That’s why you get those gifts," her grandfather told her as they watered the little seedlings that had grown where they had planted the iridescent seeds. "The gods don’t give presents to the unworthy or the ungrateful. You care about that star more than you care about the gifts, don’t you?"

"Maybe," the young woman said with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eyes. Her grandfather laughed and gave her a pat on the back, whistling a merry tune as he left to feed the cows.

"There is no need for gifts," the young woman told the air, the world around her.

In response, the seedlings grew a few centimeters, and she laughed, crouching down to gently pat the little pale leaves that had appeared.

"Thank you, in that case," she said with a grin. "You are always welcome here, I hope you know that."

The wind that brushed past her brought with it the distant echo of laughter and gratitude, along with the scent of feasts and sweet flowers. The young woman found herself humming an unfamiliar tune the rest of the day.

It was only when she helped cook dinner that she realized the gods had given her something else that morning. They had shared one of their songs with her, and that meant more than any of the lavish gifts they had left on her dancing dresses.

That night, as she danced with her star, she sang it and the star laughed and sang with her. It felt as though the world around them took a deep inhale and everything felt more alive than ever.

"Little meddlers," the star chuckled at last, fond and affectionate. "Our parents sure like to see us happy."

"The gods made you?" the young woman asked, and the star nodded.

"I know humans think we take them to make more stars, but that isn’t true. When we love someone and someone loves us, we invite them to stay with us, but it’s the gods that make us." The star smiled, gaze briefly turning far away. "Seeing us happy brings them greater joy than anything else in the world."

"That’s wonderful," the young woman answered with a glad smile as their dancing slowed. They held each other with fond and tender hearts, their foreheads slowly coming to rest against each other.

The star was still wearing the crown she had made them, the flowers never wilting and never losing vibrancy. If anything, she could now spot stardust woven between the petals and gems, making everything glow ever so faintly.

"Won’t you come with me?" the star asked her in a soft voice. "Let me show you my world. I promise it is as beautiful as yours, and my siblings are eager to meet you."

The young woman didn’t doubt that for a second, but she had made a promise. "I can’t stay," she said. "I cannot leave my home and my family."

"I understand." The star gave her hand in theirs a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Then they smiled, perking up. "How about I get your nights? I vow to return you at dawn every day."

The young woman found herself grinning back. "Yes," she said. "Take me then, I will gladly go with you."

With a laugh, she was whisked away into a world that was endless and strange and wonderful. Many stars were eager to meet her, and she laughed and danced and sang with them, her star ever at her side.

At dawn she was returned to her front door, and her star bowed over her hand, smiling at her, glowing all over. "I will see you again tonight," they said, and she leaned forward to press a kiss to their brow, just beneath the crown.

"I’ll wait for you," she answered and returned home, glad and happy. She trailed a bit of stardust in her wake and fell into bed to sleep deeply.

When she woke, she found that a new dress had appeared, gleaming and glittering as though it had been made of the finest and yet toughest fabric. Something woven by the gods themselves to withstand both the touch of time and anything that might tear it.

She put the dress away with a smile and joined her family for lunch, apologizing for sleeping for so long and telling them everything that had happened. Her family was happy for her and reassured her that it was alright if she woke late considering her happy night.

"We’ve been thinking about hiring some help anyway," her father reassured her. "I’m just glad to see you happy."

After lunch she helped out on the farm, never shying from hard work or dirtying her hands.

"Have you found your answer, then?" her grandfather asked her as they both wiped sweat from their brows. "About what you want to do with your life?"

The young woman tipped her head to the side in thought. "I’m not sure yet," she answered at last and then grinned wide. "I certainly found a new dream."

Her grandfather chuckled. "I’m sure you did. Come introduce your star to us today."

That night, her star set foot across the threshold of her home for the first time, meeting her family just like she had met theirs. Her parents and grandfather were kind and welcoming and very quickly sent her approving looks.

"I’m happy for you," her mother said when she hugged her in parting. Then she turned to the star. "Return her by morning, please. It would break our hearts to lose her."

"Of course, you have my word," her star promised solemnly, reaching out, and the young woman took their offered hand, holding it gently. They looked at her and said, softly, "I desire nothing but your happiness."

They left together, and her parents and grandfather watched as the stars danced in the night sky, their daughter somewhere up among them.

Once dawn came, so did their daughter, stepping inside and trailing stardust in her wake. They had never seen her look so happy, so at home.

"This is a good life," she told her grandfather that afternoon, after having woken and eaten and joined her family for work. "I don’t desire anything else."

He smiles softly. "Good. Come on, the horses aren’t going to care for themselves."

She grinned as she followed him to haul hay and carry buckets of water. It was a good life, and she did good work, and she had found someone who loved her, who shared in her joy and opened their heart readily to welcome her in.

As she danced among the stars, the young woman at last found the answer to the question of what she was meant to do with her life: She was meant to be happy.

And she very much was.