A little unseasonal, perhaps, but here is a picture by dear Fräulein Bernstein of Minnarose’s family from “The Dream Key“.
by Cicely Mary Barker
The little ‘Tivvy tree was born
And dwelt in open air;
It did not guess how bright a dress
Some day its boughs would wear;
Brown cones were all, it thought, a tall
And grown-up Fir would bear.
O little Fir! Your forest home
Is far and far away;
And here indoors these boughs of yours
With colored balls are gay,
With candle-light, and tinsel bright,
For this is Nativity Day!
A dolly-fairy stands on top,
Till children sleep; then she
(A live one now!) from bough to bough
Goes gliding silently.
O magic sight, this joyous night!
O laden, sparkling tree!
I spent so long trying to string together rhe multi-stage animation for which dear Fräulein Bernstein drew all the cels, that I never (having failed) actually showed her lovely picture of Trilla fully transformed.
Here it is now with apologies to everyone:
Click for big if you want to!
From Goldenhead, of course.
Here are the “before” and “after” pictures of Trilla’s transformation from Goldenhead. Honored Fräulein Bernstein has actually made an entire series showing each stage of the transformation, intended to be combined as a “flip book” animation. Sadly I have not so far found a convenient way to combine and animate them (they are too big for an animated GIF). Does anyone have any ideas?
In the meantime, ladies and fairladies, for your viewing pleasure, transformed and untransformed, we present the fantastical firebrand fighter of the Little Knights, first in seifuku…
And then as densetsu no senshi!
Here is another of Fräulein Bernstein’s delightful Goldenhead pictures. I am sure I hardly need to tell you that these are the three Little Knights in school uniform.
Left to right: Trilla, Hermya and Goldenhead.
Here is another of Fräulein Bernstein’s wonderful illustrations for Goldenhead. This one, as readers will know, is Hermya-chei being overshadowed by the Great White Dove.
Valdastre looked up into the heavens, and she saw the angel. It was like
a huge white dove—partly a dove, partly human, and partly like a
translucent spirit. It spread its great wings and glided down toward them.
Honored Fräulein Bernstein sent me some wonderful artwork for Goldenhead that I would like to share with you all. Sadly she has moved to a valley where elektra-access is not even possible by satellite so she won’t be able to come back to us for a while. But I know we all wish her well and will admire her delightful work.
If you have read Goldenhead, you will certainly recognize the scene from this picture. For those who haven’t – and those who can’t resist reading it again! – here it is:
To set the scene, Trilla and Goldenhead have been – like us – stranded in a schizomorphic world since birth but now find themselves in an intemorphic place and in intemorphic bodies.
“A blonde should always belong,” said Trilla. “Goldenhead, I am sorry you have been in places where you did not belong. That is not right for a blonde. Back there, I was not a true brunette, a true melini. But, you know, a brunette can withstand even that—even not being a true brunette. It is not easy though. I am happy now. I am myself again. I am a true brunette and I can do anything.”
Goldenhead looked at her. She looked like a redhead. Dark, fox-red hair that strayed wildly over her face. A cute dark-red sailor uniform. She was shorter than the frail-looking blonde Hermya. In a way Goldenhead could not understand what she meant by being brunette, and in another way she somehow could. And by being able to do anything—
“What do you mean?” asked Goldenhead.
Hermya pulled a little two-girl bench from a corner of the room. “Sit here, both of you,” she said, then added: “if you would do me that great kindness.”
Both blondes sat on the little bench and Trilla walked behind them. Suddenly they were hoisted in the air. Trilla had picked up the bench and raised it over her head.The bench wobbled a little as Trilla adjusted her hold. Then they heard her snap her fingers.
“You hear?” she said.
“Yes!” said Goldenhead, “you are holding us with one hand.”
“Be careful please, darling,” said Hermya. “Do put us down now.”
The bench lowered to the ground.
“Brunettes can do anything, you see?” said Trilla. She was out of breath. Perspiration shone on her forehead and she wiped it with a careless hand, plastering strands of fox-red across her sticky brow. Her eyes were shining.