This is a scene that takes place about a week after
Commonplace Miracles.
*****
The Sisterhood of Motherhood
By Kim McFarland
*****
It was a bright and sunny day. Mokey Fraggle poked her head out of Fraggle Rock and breathed deeply of the scents of the outside world. She could smell the radish patch and the other fruits and vegetables. A river flowed nearby; the wind must be blowing across it. There were other, subtler scents that wafted in from the surrounding land, plants and animals and moldering leaves and soil. It was so very different from the limestone-and-water smell of the caves. Most Fraggles found that difference frightening. Those who got past that fear gained the immeasurable reward of the beauty of the garden.
The bundle of purple fluff in her arms stirred, alert to the change in scents. Mokey's son, Janken, was only twelve days old. He could not see the world, as his eyes had not opened yet, but he could hear it and smell it. This was not the first time he had been up here; they had picnicked in the garden some days ago, when Mokey had recovered enough to make the trip. However, this was Mokey's first trip alone.
Mokey carried her child as she walked through the garden, looking around at the gifts of the earth that the Gorgs cultivated. On the other side of the garden was a tree with soft, cushiony moss between its roots. Clumps of grass and other flowers grew around it, and the sun filtered down through the leaves high above. This was her favorite place to go when she wanted to be alone and quiet, to compose or meditate or just be. It was only right that she should share this place with her son.
She sat on the sun-warmed moss and set Janken down in front of herself. He wiggled gently against the soft, furry surface, which was similar in smell to the moss in Fraggle Rock, but had a different texture. It was thicker, deeper, coarser. He pressed his face blindly into it. Mokey smiled. That was how he greeted anything and anybody new: by learning their scents. He had once tried to sniff the water, and had been very unhappy with the result, but Mokey didn't worry. Every baby made that mistake once, and learned that water was for swimming, not breathing.
Mokey watched Janken pat the moss and wiggle his fingers around in it, enjoying the sensations. When he began to whine, tail twitching, she picked him up again. He had had enough of newness for now. He rested against her, his cheek on her chest, listening to her familiar, comforting heartbeat. After a few moments he nuzzled into her fur for a snack.
*
Mokey sat, quietly enjoying the scents and sounds and the sense of space. The garden was never the same twice. That was part of its beauty. The walls of a cave were solid, safe, reliable. The surface world was ethereal, ever-changing. There was a poem in that, she thought. If she had brought her diary she would have made a note of it.
After a while she got up again. She was hungry—until Janken was on solid food she would be eating for two—and fresh food, still warm from the sun, was especially delicious. She walked around the tree and into the garden to see what was ripe.
The radishes were big and round and smelled delicious. She was in the mood for something lighter and juicier, however. Feeding a baby was thirsty work. She passed by pea plants and greaseberry plants. Gorgs ate greaseberries. Well, so could Fraggles, but they had to be
very hungry. The tomato bushes had ripe fruit, but even a small ripe tomato was much more than she could eat.
Then she remembered the grape vines. They bore wonderfully sweet fruit that looked like green and red bubbles and were the perfect size for a Fraggle snack. They were planted on constructions around the side of the castle, a fair hike from here.
Mokey hummed softly to Janken as she walked along the path around the house. Flat stones were set into the ground along the way. They had been there so long they looked like they had grown there.
She reached the place where the grapes grew. There was a framework much like a Doozer construction, but immeasurably bigger, and made out of wood. The vines crawled up the supports, so when the grapes grew they would hang down and be easy to find and pick. There were quite a few appetizing-looking clusters. None of them were near the ground, however.
Mokey gazed hungrily up at the treats. Normally she would have climbed up to pick one. Climbing grape vines was fun! However, with a baby in her arms that was out of the question. She gave a small sigh of regret and turned to go back. There were always other things. A few peas would be a nutritious, satisfying snack. They just wouldn't be as sweet and juicy.
She felt a tremor through the stones under her feet, and scrambled off the path before she heard the big footsteps. Seconds later one of the Gorgs swept by in a rush of heavy cloth. It was the mother of the family. A wicker basket hung from one huge forearm. She walked up to the grapevines and began singing tunelessly as she picked, selecting the ripest ones rather than picking whole bunches. Mokey watched hopefully. Maybe she would drop one or two so Mokey could have her snack after all!
The Gorg picked several handfuls of grapes, then turned to go. She hadn't dropped a single fruit. Mokey stood well back from the path—Gorgs no longer tried to harm Fraggles, but they couldn't always be counted on to watch where they were putting their enormous feet—and waited until she went past. Then she called out, "Excuse me!"
The Gorg stopped and looked around, puzzled. Mokey stepped onto the side of the path and said, "Hello!"
Ma Gorg stared at the tiny creature. "A Fraggle? What are you doing here?"
Mokey knew that she was taking a huge risk. But something told her not to flee; Gorgs were reasonable creatures. She said, "Could I have a grape? I'm very hungry and thirsty."
Puzzled, Ma said, "Why don't you climb the vines? I know you Fraggles do that; I've seen you before. It's okay as long as you don't take too many." The Gorgs and the Fraggles had reached a kind of truce; if Fraggles didn't take too much food or invade the castle, the Gorgs had no quarrel with them.
Mokey replied, "Thank you! But I can't climb now. I've got my baby with me, so I don't have a hand free."
"You do?!" Ma exclaimed. She squatted down and looked at Mokey. She could see the purple thing in her arms, but for all she could tell it could be a hand muff. "Can I see?"
Mokey was nervous now. There was no way she would hand over her baby to a Gorg, no matter how well-intentioned she was! But, she thought when she looked at her expression, there was more than curiosity there. There was actual tenderness. She said, "He's only days old, and baby Fraggles are very delicate. But if you lay your hand flat I'll step on it, and you can lift us both up."
"All right." Ma Gorg set the basket down and put her hand on the ground. Hesitantly Mokey stepped onto it. The flesh was warm and softer than the ground; she sat down so she wouldn't lose her balance when it moved. Carefully Ma lifted her hand to bring the Fraggle to just below eye level. Now she could see the little one in Mokey's arms. It was a chubby, fuzzy, miniscule Fraggle. "Oh, how darling!" she exclaimed, holding her voice down low so as not to alarm the child.
"Thank you," Mokey said with a smile.
"How old is he? He can't be more than ten years old!"
Ten
years? How long did it take Gorgs to grow up? "He's just twelve days old."
"Oh my goodness. And he's so tiny! He hardly seems real."
"He's grown a lot in twelve days. You should have seen how little he was when he was born."
"Yes, they grow so fast. I remember when Junior was a little baby, he grew faster than a zucchini in summer."
Mokey laughed. Zucchini did grow fast! Janken was squirming restlessly. Mokey said, "He's curious about you." She carefully set him down in front of herself, in the palm of Ma's hand.
Ma watched, eyes wide, as the bug-sized Fraggle wiggled, pressing his face into the fine fur on her hand. Mokey told her, "His eyes haven't opened yet. Baby Fraggles recognize people by scent and voice before they can see them."
"Oh," Ma said quietly.
Janken patted the strange surface. It felt like moss, but it smelled like a person. It was pleasantly warm, too. He moved around aimlessly for a minute or so, then fell asleep. Ma wanted to pat the infinitesimal creature, but realized that doing so would scare its mother.
Any mother would be upset, seeing their baby being handled by somebody so much larger!
Mokey chuckled. "I wish he would go to sleep that easily at night."
"Oh, doesn't he sleep well?"
"Sometimes he gets so fussy. He can't get comfortable."
"Junior used to be like that too. Do you swaddle him?"
"What's that?" Mokey asked, puzzled.
"Wrap him snugly in a blanket. That's comfortable for very little babies. It reminds them of where they came from."
"Does that really work?"
"It worked on Junior. Goodness me, all Gorgs know about swaddling. Some nights I wish I could still swaddle him to make him go to sleep, but I don't have a big enough blanket."
They both laughed. Mokey picked Janken up again. "I'd better be getting back to the rock. My family will be wondering where I am."
"All right."
Ma put her hand on the ground again, and Mokey stepped off. Ma started to stand, and Mokey said, "Ah, could I have a grape?"
"Oh! Of course." Ma selected a big grape from her basket and held it low for Mokey.
Mokey accepted it with her free hand. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Goodbye." The Gorg gave a finger-twiddling wave—from her expression, Mokey thought she was waving to Janken—and then went off.
*
Ma considered telling Junior about her conversation with the Fraggle. Junior would be so excited! But then, she thought, Gorg-sized excitement was not what a baby Fraggle needed.
She realized that the Fraggles had come to seem like subjects to them. The thought made her smile. They had once been vermin, so the Gorgs had thought. But since Gorgs and Fraggles had begun to speak to each other, that had changed. The Fraggles needed food from the Gorgs' garden, and they really didn't eat much, being such tiny creatures. If the Gorgs just planted a little more and the Fraggles took only what they needed and left the prize vegetables alone, then there was plenty to go around and no need for conflict. In fact, some of them were friendly, even respectful. It was like having subjects, without the bother of having to govern them. The Gorgs were no longer alone in their little farmhouse kingdom.
A baby Fraggle had fallen asleep in her hand. That must be the first time in the world a Fraggle had slept in a Gorg's hand. That baby would grow up unafraid of Gorgs, she thought. She was a mother, and mothers could sense these things.
*****
Mokey and Ma Gorg are copyright © The Jim Henson Company and are used without permission but with much respect and affection. Janken and the overall story are copyright © Kim McFarland (
negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.
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