Frederick

"Eostre?"
The quavering voice could've been mistaken for a birdcall, but for the urgent lilt of a question at the end. The tiny fae puffed and leant heavily on his staff, his haggard wings trailing in the dirt. He sniffed irritably at the sight of them caked in earth, and shook his shoulders, spraying the surroundings in mod and leaves and the occasional clinging insect who'd been dragged far from home took off in bewilderment. The old man fae cleared his throat, drawing himself up to his full height before calling out again, but stopped in mid-utterance when a female voice interrupted him from above.
"Are you looking for my mama?"
He looked up, then up further- "Eostre? Oh thank goodness. I've been looking for you everywhere. Have you seen my glasses, dear?"
"Um..."
"You're always so good at finding them. Give an old fae a hand, would you?"
The long delicate face peered closely at the tiny fae, who squinted dimly back though rheumy eyes.
"How long have you been looking for them?"
"Oh, ages. It's terribly difficult to find them, my old eyes just don't obey me anymore. Seemed easier to find you, rather than bother searching for the impossible."
"But- I'm not Eostre..."
"Tish tosh! I'd know my favourite daughter anywhere."
"No, I'm-"
"Now make yourself useful dear, and help me."
"What do they- um, look like?" She asked carefully, smiling back.
"Small, gold, and shaped like fungus."
"Not- um, the ones on your head, um, then?"
"What?"
The fae lifted a hand, and pulled down the glasses from where they'd lodged in the strange fungi which seemed to colonize his frills with wavy strands like hair. Or maybe he'd just walked through something.
"Oh! You little gem, you! You're a keeper."
The skydancer giggled, and looked about- "Do you want help to get home, grandfather? Where do you hail from?"
"Oh!" The fae gasped, startled guiltily- "Mother was making some of her special chamomile tea, I do hope it hasn't got cold! Would you mind, dear? I'll get such a telling-off if I'm late for tea."
"Of course. You- can find the way, can't you?" The skydancer looked around uncertainly- "Only I think I'm- a bit lost."
"With my eyes shut and frills closed!" The fae cackled, "Give me a paw, would you?"
The skydancer obliged, lifting the old dragon up to her back with as much politeness as was possible, and recieved a friendly pat on the head for her trouble. "Follow the flowers!" The old dragon pointed down; "I'm starting a plantation of bulbs for spring, all across the forest. Helping the newcomers find Oakheart."
"Oakheart!" The skydancer smiled. "That's exactly where I was going."
"Well of course you were." The old fae laid a wing over her head in a friendly hug; "It's your home too."