I didn’t go searching for it, but as I stumbled through the dense underbrush of the forest, there it was. It sat alone in a quiet spot, resting against the protective trunk of an old oak tree, nearly hidden by the roots that had penetrated the ground.

It must have been there for ages. It seemed so lonely. Abandoned.

I knelt on the forest floor and gently pulled away the decaying leaves and bits of twig that had tried so hard to consume it. Stubborn vines of ivy clung to it, fed off it, and they didn’t give up their hold easily. In time, though, they gave way to reveal the most humble of fairy dwellings surrounded by lovely chunks of quartz and stone, remnants of a once-loved fairy lawn that boasted sprigs of dusty millers and patches of wild clover.

To my surprise, the door creaked open. Slowly. Tentatively. From the crack in the door, I saw a grizzled little face peering up at me. Suspicion shone in his eyes, but so did curiosity.

“Hello,” I said.

The little man looked startled, but he neither answered my greeting or slammed shut the door.

I told him my name, but the suspicion in his eyes lingered.

I reached in my pocket, suddenly remembering the treasures I’d gathered while walking through the forest. In my palm lay a tiny piece of quartz in the shape of a heart, an acorn and miniature pine cone. I don’t know why I’d bothered to pick up the pine cone, but it had felt necessary. I plucked it from my palm and set it on the rock that served as his doorstep, then backed up.

He studied the pine cone for a moment, then let the door open just a bit farther. His eyes darted between the pine cone and me, his expression shifting rapidly between suspicion and longing. Finally, longing won out and he darted from the safety of his home to snatch the pine cone, then dashed back in, slamming the door behind him.

It happened so quickly that I had little time to take in his appearance. He had been nothing more than a blur of green beneath a white head of hair.

I waited patiently, trusting that the curiosity would draw him out once more. I was rewarded a few moments later when the door creaked open, this time just a hair wider. I was surprised to see light coming from the house. Did the fairies have electricity? Surely not. My own curiosity drew me a step closer. The little man backed up a step, but didn’t close the door.

I opened my hand that still held the treasures I’d found and I chose the quartz heart, remembering that someone had once told me how the fairy folk loved shiny things. I placed the quartz where the pine cone had been. His eyes lit up and I was startled to see that they glowed a vivid green, in sharp contrast with his white, flowing hair and bushy white eyebrows.

Perhaps it was the temptation of the quartz, or perhaps he simply understood that I wasn’t there to harm him. He stepped out more slowly this time, his eyes never leaving me for more than an instant. He bent a lifted the stone, which was nearly as large as his chest, then walked backwards into his house. This time, he didn’t bother to close the door behind him.

I looked at the acorn in my hand and shrugged. There would be more acorns. I placed it on his doorstep but didn’t move away. If he wanted this treasure he’d have to trust me.

He moved into the doorway and looked up at me. It occurred to me that I must appear very large to him. He was no more than three inches tall and, even kneeling as I was, I towered over him. He stepped back into his house, but reappeared quickly, something clutched in his hand. He stepped onto the door stone and traded the acorn for the thing in his hand.

I looked down and saw a small, glittering bit of green. He watched as my hand lowered, never flinching but prepared for flight. I picked up the bit of green and suddenly it began to grow. As I watched, the tiny thing grew to fill the palm of my hand. It was an emerald, deep green, rough and huge.

When I looked back down he was gone and the door was closing behind him.

I waited. I waited for long minutes that turned into an hour, that turned into three. I held the emerald in my hand, absorbing its warmth and marveling at its beauty. In time, the sun began to sink below the tree tops and the forest became dark and shadowed. My eyes drifted shut despite my best efforts to keep them open.

When next my eyes opened, I was in my own bed. Had it only been a dream? Could a dream be quite that vivid? That real? I raised my hand to rub my eyes, hoping to clear them and my head at the same time and knew it hadn’t been a dream, for there in my hand was the emerald.