# Fairies I have met/The Bird of Shadows and the Sun-Bird

THE BIRD OF SHADOWS AND THE SUN-BIRD
LITTLE Agatha lived in the days when castles were as common in the land as cottages are now, and when there were plenty of magicians always ready to help people out of difficulties.
One of the castles was Agatha’s home. It stood on a hill and was surrounded by a dark wood. Agatha was a lonely little girl: she had no sisters or brothers to play with. She used to stand at the narrow window in the castle tower and look out into the wood, and long to run about with other little girls. If you had seen her you would have thought her a very funny figure in her long gown reaching nearly to the ground, and a close cap over her curls.
In the evening Agatha could see very little when she stood at the window, but still she stood there and looked at the dark wood. It was then that the nightingale, the Bird of Shadows, sang to her; and this was what she liked better than anything else. She thought the nightingale’s voice was lovely to hear, and she wondered why it was so sad.
Evening after evening the lonely little girl looked out through the tower window listening to the nightingale, till she felt that he was her friend. Sometimes she spoke to him.
“How much I should like to fly out of the window and be a nightingale too!” she said. “Then we would ​play together in the wood, and I should have a voice like yours—ever so sweet and ever so sad.”
Sometimes she tried to sing, but she found her voice was not in the least like the nightingale’s.
Every day she became more anxious to be a nightingale, until at last she thought about it always, and yet seemed no nearer to her wish. She hoped sometimes that her curls might turn into feathers; but after several weeks of wishing she saw that the curls were still made of yellow hair. She began to be afraid she would never be anything but a little girl.
One day she heard some of the maids talking together. They were speaking of the Wise Man, the Magician, who lived in the dark cave on the side of the hill, and could do the most wonderful things. In fact, they said, there was hardly anything he couldn’t do; you had only to tell him what you wanted most and he could manage it for you.
“Perhaps he could turn me into a nightingale,” thought Agatha. “I’ll go and ask him, anyway.”
So while the maids were still talking she slipped out of the castle, and through the wood, and down the hill, till she came to the dark cave. Her long frock caught on the brambles as she went, and her hands were a good deal scratched, and once she tripped and fell. But of course she did not mind anything of that kind, because she was thinking all the time about the nightingale.
Agatha walked into the cave without knocking, and found the Magician at home. I dare say you know that all good Magicians have kind faces and long white beards. This one was a good Magician, so he had a kind face and ​a long white beard. Agatha was not in the least afraid of him. She told him at once why she had come.
“Please,” she said, “I want to be a nightingale.”
“A nightingale, my dear?” said the Wise Man.
“That is a very strange thing for you to want to be! Don’t you know that the nightingale is the Bird of Shadows, who sings by night and is very sad?”
“I shouldn’t mind that a bit,” said Agatha, “if I could only fly about and sing with a beautiful voice.”
“Well, then,” said the Wise Man, “if you don’t mind being sad, this is what you must do. Every day you must come here to see me, and each time you must bring me one of the pearls from your necklace.”
Agatha clasped her hands tightly round her neck, as if to save her pearls. She wore them in a chain, and the chain was so long that it passed twice round her neck and then fell in a loop that reached nearly to her waist.
“Oh, must it be my pearls?” she asked eagerly. “Would nothing else do instead? I have some very nice things at home—really nice things. I have some lovely toys, and a gold chain, and a pony, and—oh, lots of things. Wouldn’t you like some of those?”
“No,” said the Wise Man, “I must have the pearls if you want to fly about and sing with a beautiful voice. Nothing else will do. For every pearl you bring me I will give you a feather from the nightingale, the Bird of Shadows.”
Agatha went home slowly, still clasping her pearls tightly in her hands. She liked them better than anything she had. She liked to watch the soft lights and shades on ​them, and to think of the wonderful sea they came from. She did not feel sure that it was worth while to give them up, even for the sake of being a bird and learning to sing.
But in the evening, when she stood by the tower window as usual, and listened to the nightingale, she had no longer any doubts as to what she should do. To be able to sing like the nightingale was more important than anything else, she felt. And besides, if she were going to be turned into a bird, the pearls would not be of much use to her in any case. She was pretty sure that nightingales never wore pearl necklaces.
The next day she slipped one of the pearls off her chain, and then she ran out of the castle and through the wood and down the hill, till she came to the dark cave.
The Wise man smiled when he saw her.
“Here is—” she began, and then she could say no more, because of the lump in her throat.
The Wise Man looked rather sorry for her, but he took the pearl without speaking. Then he gave her the feather he had promised her, and she went away again. As she climbed the hill and ran back through the wood to the castle, she tried to feel glad that she had the feather instead of the pearl.
For a long, long time the same thing happened every day. Every day Agatha slipped a pearl off her chain, and then ran out of the castle and through the wood and down the hill, till she came to the dark cave; and every day she brought home a little feather instead of her pearl.
The long loop of the chain grew shorter and shorter. The time came when it was not a long loop at all, but fitted ​closely round Agatha’s neck as the other loops did. By-and-by the time came when the chain would only pass twice round her throat; then the time came when it would only go round her throat once; then it grew too short to reach round her throat at all, and she was obliged to turn it into a bracelet. Then it became too short for her wrist, and she made it into a ring. And all the time her store of feathers was growing larger and larger, till it seemed to her that there were enough to make at least ten nightingales; but this was because she did not know how many feathers a nightingale likes to have. When there were only two pearls left, the Wise Man said to her—
“When you bring me the last pearl you must bring me the feathers too; and after that you will be able to sing with a beautiful voice and to fly wherever you like.”
So when Agatha left the gloomy old castle for the last time she was not able to run through the wood, because she was carrying a big bag of feathers as well as the pearl.
She was feeling very much excited when she gave the bag of feathers to the Wise Man.
He put the last pearl carefully away with the others; and then he took the bag of feathers and emptied it over Agatha’s head. As he did so he said some of the strange long words that Wise Men use.
And then——
Agatha was there no longer. There was nothing to be seen of her except a little heap of yellow curls, which the Wise Man kept to give to the next person who asked him for gold.
But out of the cave there flew a happy bird. It flew ​far, far up into the sky, singing with a beautiful voice. It flew higher up into the sky than any nightingale ever flew.
For the Wise Man had done more than he had promised. The bird’s beautiful voice was not the voice of the nightingale, the Bird of Shadows; but the voice of the lark, the Sun-Bird, who is never sad.