A Goosey Gander by Caitlin E. Elia

To Chaddeus P. Waddlebury,

Hovering Goose of Letters, Pixie Parcel Division,

On this day, I find myself in a rather peculiar state of mind. It could be attributed to the recent arrival of my newest son, a robust little lad who's but the size o’ your thumb. I realize you lack thumbs, but I know you catch my drift. 

Then again, it might also be the consequence of a bout with fae froth hooch from the night prior. Anyway, I require your assistance with just one delivery for today.

Please proceed to the customary collection point to retrieve the package. To transport it, you'll need the enclosed map. No need to worry, though. Remember that the subterranean tubes designed for your unique mode of hover-flight are accessible solely through the mushroom circle nestled within the Northwest Woods. Following that, direct your attention to the entrance of the gnomish Great Tree.

The contents of this parcel–shame that I can’t tell you–but let’s just say that it holds a material needed by the astronomers who are currently stationed at the Observatory of Eternal Starfire within the Luminescent Caverns. I have every confidence in your abilities. Best of luck, my friend. I am well aware that you are more than up to the task.

Warm regards,

Fionnulin

At the crossroads dividing the various divisions of the Otherworldly Post, there hovered a goose. He was not your everyday long-necked, web-footed goose who simply honked and flapped wings at anyone who dared stray too close to his chosen waterway. No, he was a particularly handsome goose, with blue-tipped wings and a lustrous, curving tailfeather. Setting him yet further apart from a run-of-the-mill farm goose was the compact travel pack strapped to his form, safeguarding an invaluable parcel within. 

“Chaddeus P. Waddlebury,” read the tag secured to his trust and sturdily-constructed pack. He could not tell any chance persons he would encounter what the “P” stood for. Geese do not speak a human language, you should already know. Like your average goose, his proud beak served him just fine at honking. Fortunately, the ebb and flow of natural powers in the Otherworld he called home allowed most other species to decipher his honks with ease. 

As previously mentioned, Chad—affectionately referred to as such by friends and admirers—was suspended in midair at the crossroads. His surname confounded many, for it erroneously implied the expected webbed feet of his avian kin. Yet, Chad defied convention, lacking the expected appendages and owning wings reminiscent of an oversized hummingbird's, maintaining a feverish flapping, propelling him just shy of two feet above the path. It was no secret that, much like a greedy hummingbird’s slurping of nectar from copious blossoms, Chad was content to work for payment in pixieberry pie or gossamer-glazed berries. 

Chad's current objective revolved around the delivery of a package of purported significance–well, according to Fionnulin. This task was an integral facet of his role as a mail goose, a proud member of the esteemed Mystic Messenger Consortium, nestled within the specialized Pixie Parcel Division. This distinction became profoundly apparent when one contrasted his mission with those stemming from the Impeccable Imp Message Service or the Gnome Gram Society.

It's noteworthy that the exclusive domain of geese like Chad was the Pixie Parcel Division. This fact bore its roots in the synchrony of size between Pixies and their avian associates,and Chad certainly bore his duties with dignity and great enjoyment. “A hover-goose is the valiant steed to a mail-pixie, just as the horse to a knight,” boasted the affirmative catchphrase of their guild. Certainly, Chad and Finn’s proportions formed a harmonious symmetry, facilitating Chad's graceful navigation through the intricately planned hovertube network that gracefully intertwined amidst the lush forests and hectic cities of the Otherworld. Occupational relationship aside, Chad and Fionnulin had become the best of friends years prior, after the pixie complimented Chad’s skill at a hovering fowl race. 

Soon, one saddle fitting later, they were off on adventures to meet all kinds of elves, Brownies, and gnomes of the Otherworld. When Fionnulin made good on his promise of a drink in Chad’s favorite tavern, their sense of companionship made future work together not so much work as the best way to spend a day. 

Chad was unsure of how well he could accomplish a journey such as this on his own. This morning, after opening his envelope by way of thin lower beak slicing in the manner of a letter-opener, he had honked in exasperation then contemplated over a breakfast of pickled opaline herring and freshly-squeezed jade-fruit juice. “Honk honk hoooonk,” he sighed in his own company. In goose language, this meant, “Yeah, thanks, buddy,” in a facetious tone. 

Bracing himself for an odyssey into the unknown, Chad found the mushroom circle just past the wild rose knolls as Finn had outlined in the letter. Honking a greeting to Carina Inkfeather, the mushroom deva elder, she waved him through the gateway in the circle, “It’s that way, and be careful that you turn right to find the gnomish village!” 

Chad, studying the old map, did not turn right. In fact, Chad made two lefts and found himself cascading through a waterfall which he had splashed through seemingly out of nowhere. Carried by the cascading waters into a lagoon, he made a plunging splash. Looking around, he asked, “Honk hooooonk?”- and observed numerous pairs of eyes staring him down. A scaled, webbed hand snatched him as a voice echoed off the stony walls surrounding the lagoon, “Well, look at this!” A myriad of feminine, resounding voices  assaulted his sensitive ears at once:

“Aww, I don’t remember the last time we had a feathered friend!” 

“Don’t scare him!” 

“Look at what he has! Is that a little satchel?”

“QUIET! I can’t hear myself think!” 

“Let’s at least introduce ourselves.” 

Chad found himself overwhelmed with unwelcome caresses of his feathers and webbed fingers toying at the strap of his travel pack. He must not let these naiads have his package for it was labeled as “of utmost importance”. 

Honking impatiently, the water-dwelling spirits halted their battalion of questions and exclamations. They watched, with kaleidoscopic eyes and hair flowing upon the surface of their misty green lagoon. 

“I will have you know that I am a goose carrier of the Pixie Parcel Division. Only I am- without a pixie today. Usually, he is the navigator but I’m afraid all I have is this old map.” 

One naiad, with silver hair and eyes the blue of a storm at sea, looked sympathetically at the lost goose. “Well, we have no need for a parcel of the land. We have a way to help you find where you need to go.” 

She plucked a tiny fish, coated in iridescent lavender scales, from the water and, singing gently to it, Chad was stunned to see it glide smoothly to the air. “Protect him as he shows you the way you intend to go, then send him back.” 

Honking his thanks, and taking care to ensure his travel pack was securely tied, Chad propelled himself along the path the fish delineated. Thankfully, the waterfall had not taken them too far past Chad’s first blunder of the directions and they found themselves at the X marking the spot on the old map, the Great Tree of the gnomish lands. 

The little fish went gracefully on his way back to the lagoon and the naiads who lovingly cared for his kind. With a shuddering breath, Chad stole his courage from an unseen void and entered the hollow of the Great Tree.

Labyrinthine twists and inclines took Chad through the hovertubes of the subterranean Otherworld, his steadfast wings beating the damp, still air. Down here, it smelled of moss and worms. As a flight-gifted creature, he was not used to a world so far below his own. Still, there were magnificent things to see. Fox-faced bats and their elegant companions, the dark fae, both slept and tended to business upon the ceilings of caves. Glowing moths and bioluminescent flowers danced in the dark of this world. 

Not wanting to let Fionnulin down, Chad traversed this world, attending to his map. After a couple of hours navigating the paths below on his own, a pleading voice tore his attention away from the map. “Noooo, please! Please, let me go!” Chad almost smacked into the massive spider web stretched between cave walls like glistening lacework. In fact, it did remind Chad of the delicate threads of silver needlework he had seen upon visits to elven villages. In its midst, a tiny and adorable snail was struggling, rocking back and forth in her shell, eye-stalks waving wildly. 

“Honk?” inquired Chad. “My mother needs me at home! I have so many brothers and sisters to help her care for!” cried the snail. 

“Then what are you doing all the way down here?” sounded Chad’s replying series of honks. 

“I need to deliver a package! To prove my worth! But first, I need to get out of here!” the snail’s frantic words came in bursts.  

“It’s just a spiderweb,” Chad reassured the snail. 

“Ha-ha! Nothing is ‘just’ anything down here” squeaked the snail. 

A shadow loomed over them. Then, the scurry of eight legs added to the sense of fright. 

The spider had four sets of teeth, numerous milky-white eyes and sharp legs that sliced at the air near where Chad hovered. With no time to consider how courageous he was feeling, Chad beat at the air, now hovering by slicing both in speed and with his beak. 

Before the spider could set upon either of them, Chad had torpedoed his aerodynamic form at the terrifying creature and sent it down into the depths of the cavern below with a shrill shriek. 

Cutting the young snail free with his tried and true beak, Chad ensured that she was uninjured. 

“Thank you so much! The spiders in here are worse than any of the ones above ground and I’ve always been afraid of them.” Barely catching her breath after screaming so profoundly for her life, her eye-stalks roved over Chad’s travel pack. “Hey, what kinda package is that there?” 

Honking his reply, Chad made it clear that his package was truly significant and he must be on his way. “Please, please, could you let me take it? Snails rely on maps for delivery and I need to convince my tribe that I can be an official navigator.”

After further conversation, the snail revealed that her name was Mulberry and her greatest wish was to be rewarded the official gem-encrusted shell of a royal snail-mail navigator. “You, see, if I surprise my family and tribe by delivering something down here, and what’s more–to the Observatory- they will be so proud of me!” 

Chad, the kind fellow that he was, of course agreed to swap packages. Of course, he despised the idea of disappointing Finnoulin. He was moved by the young snail’s perseverance and dream of seeing the Observatory where his original package was due. To be fair, his heart just had not been in the task set before him today. 

Several hours later, aboveground, Chad maneuvered heartily through lands he knew and loved. He found the home of a fluffy and friendly old bear, Sir Ferdinand Furminus- the third, mind you. Fer, as he invited Chad to call him, opened his package. It was a jar of honey. “Oh, yes! Jar 585 of my honey for hibernation!” 

“What?” honked Chaddeus P. Waddlebury, the proudest and most shrewd of all hover-gooses employed by the Pixie Parcel Division of the Mystic Mail Consortium. 

With that one exhausted honk, his wings halted and poor Chad collapsed at the doorstep of the old bear. All this tiresome venturing today and his kindness for swapping packages with the young snail had resulted in this– delivering a silly package for a bear who already had a stockpile of honey to eat. It was only the beginning of summer, and the bear would not even need to plan for hibernation for months! 

As it was, Chad would have a nice respite in Fer’s cabin, tucked by the old bear’s wife beneath a blanket next to a crackling fire. When he woke, they would bestow him with a restorative drink of his choosing, and as luck would have it, an extra slice of pixieberry pie! 

The next day, reconvening with his old friend and fellow mail-worker, he would relay his story. Fionnulin would shrug and say, “What counts is that you put your heart and soul into whatever task is given to you.” Then, they would clink their bubbling tankards together and look forward to their next adventure, together. That was the end of that.