She stepped forward, then, unsure of what to do next, she halted. Now again, awkwardly standing behind him, she wondered if she had really heard the words or just imagined them or, if they were real, had they really been directed at her?
While she was thinking this he turned towards her, to sit cross-legged facing her. What she saw surprised her much: He was a typical he-fairy, in that he looked agelessly young, strong and alert. But still there was something strangely wornout about him and when he blew a lock out of his eye to be able to look at her with both eyes she saw a scar on his left eyebrow that went up into his hair. He was smiling so warmly she felt as if he was smiling with his whole being, from the heart straight through sparkling eyes with the tiny wrikles about them, to his mouth. Under this smile she began to feel comfortably warm in the cool night, as if she had just taken a bath and then dried in the warm sun of a late-summer's noon. She felt his smile radiating through her until it reached her heart, untli she found she was smiling back widely.
"Don't you care to look? I had a feeling you were kind of curious before." She dropped down, sitting now in front of him and, upon his lowering his mesmerizingly warm eyes to whatever he held in his hands, she followed his gaze to perceive a mirror.
Or, to be more precise: a bunch of different sized shards that must have made a wall-mirror, big enough to do your hair in front of it.
"What does this mirror show?" she asked. Strangely enough the feeling of awkwardness had melted away under his smile. Now she was feeling comfortable enough to speak. She was wondering how it came he wore a scar, an unusal thing for fairies. There was hardly a thing that could damage fairy-skins at all and of all these things none was powerful enough to leave a permanent mark. There was a saying that a fairy had to be hurt in the immortal soul as well as the immortal body to bear a scar. She could not begin to wonder reasonably, though, as there was still the mystery of his entire appearance and the mirror-shards in his hands and even more mysterious: his addressing her.
"That is indeed the question. Maybe you should better ask what it did show."
"Why is it broken?"
"Because its last spectator did not like what he saw."
Suddenly she saw blueishly-shimmering mists form in the shards, like spilt oil. "What's that now?" "You can see it, too? Well, I shouldn't be surprised after all."