Ten thousand hours have passed, and the wording wizard has become a master in his art, as the little faerie had once predicted to him.
He never threw the pillar of his attachment in the ocean as he once wrote to the little faerie. The wording wizard was at the time too proud to recognize the depth of his love, and to see that it could not be contained in a single rock, not even a mountain, and that it was infinite and infused each thing he touched.
That love remained alive in his heart and it grew, day after day after day, until when it helped him transform and find a new depth in every word he wrote, every picture he painted. At the end, without his love for the little faerie, the wording wizard would not be himself, he would not be a writer, nor a poet, but a miserable and anonymous mortal man. The wording wizard thus realized he could not dissociate his gift from his love, because it would then be like breaking his heart in two pieces.
Time over time over time, the wording wizard tried to express the song of his heart to the little faerie, and time after time after time she told him to look deeper into himself, and find even more purity and beauty if he ever wanted to become a master. And so he did. He wrote and wrote and wrote, but nothing he wrote was good enough. Not nearly. He had not yet understood what love was and how it needed to colour and light each and every of his word. He had not understood all what he did, every word he breathed, each colour he whispered, was for and through the little faerie. The depth of their bond, the togetherness of their hearts, still eluded him in part.
Clash after clash after clash, the defences around the wording wizard’s heart shattered, and at last the ice started melting, and oh miracle, for the first time, he saw water. He touched it, breathed it, contemplated it, drank it and used to water his creation. He understood the most precious had eluded him before. His mind and his body and his heart realized love was not about confrontation, or hurt, or silence, or sadness, or fear, but about singing and keeping on singing the purest song of his heart, cherishing and continuing on cherishing the princess of his heart, and growing into her prince. They are prince and princess of the realm of their Dream, and they do not have any subject, and that is for the best, as the wording wizard’s heart must be entirely free to welcome his little faerie.
And now the wording wizard and the little faerie, the prince and the princess, stand close, so close. Their skin and their heart touch, as they hold one another’s hand. There is an incredible warmth, an incredible wealth of colours, that flows through them. They have awakened to their divine, infinite nature, as they are lit by the purest form of light, and watered by the purest form of ice.
The prince looks into the eyes of his princess. “Will you take me as your spouse?”
And here history stops and fantasy starts.