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Guardian of the Green Hill

Guardian of the Green Hill

4.2 9
by Laura L. Sullivan

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Only a few weeks ago, Meg Morgan and her siblings went to England for the holidays—and found themselves in the middle of a fairy war. Now the war is over, but the battle for control of the fairies has just begun.

A mysterious painter named Gwidion appears at the Rookery, ready to give the children art lessons. But his real plans are far more sinister:


Only a few weeks ago, Meg Morgan and her siblings went to England for the holidays—and found themselves in the middle of a fairy war. Now the war is over, but the battle for control of the fairies has just begun.

A mysterious painter named Gwidion appears at the Rookery, ready to give the children art lessons. But his real plans are far more sinister: He means to destroy the Guardian of the Green Hill, the woman who keeps the peace between fairies and humans.

Meg knows nothing of the evil artist's plans, but she is beginning to understand that she might be the only one who can become Guardian when her great-great aunt's time is over. Yet Meg is just a girl—surely she has plenty of time before she must decide whether she wants to take on such an enormous role.

Then someone she loves is stolen by fairies, and no one but Meg can get him back. . . .

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

“A good choice for those well-read in fairy stories…” —VOYA

“Sullivan's writing has a timelessness that contrasts nicely with Meg's distinctly modern ideas and weaves a compelling story that will pull readers along.” —School Library Journal

“Richly atmospheric storytelling in the tradition of Narnia and Nesbit.” —Kirkus Reviews

Children's Literature - Sue Poduska
The sequel to Under the Green Hill, this is the story of Meg Morgan's succession to Guardian, the designated go-between for the fairies and humans. The position is passed from mother to daughter, but that does not prevent Gwidion, a man, from thinking he is the rightful heir. Of course, he also believes there are riches involved, another mistake by him. He tries to use magical manipulation to get the current Guardian to name him heir. He is thwarted by those not so easily manipulated. Meanwhile, Meg is tested when her brother is kidnapped by the fairies, leaving her doubting her own resolve. Fairies abound in many forms, including tiny and large. Time and age are often less than important. The magic and mysticism are fascinating, but the convoluted plot and the number of characters with unusual names make the book difficult to follow. Also, the language and voice used are not often kid-friendly. Reviewer: Sue Poduska
VOYA - Susan Redman-Parodi
Guardian Of The Green Hill tells the story of Meg Morgan and her siblings who travel to England as guests of their relatives, Phyllida and Lysander Ash. Phyllida is the Guardian of the Green Hill, a mediator between fairies and humankind. With no heir to her title, Meg is predicted to be next in line as traditionally it is left to a female successor. Burdened by this prospect of a life spent in selfless servitude, Meg struggles with whether or not she is ready to make the lifelong commitment. The family is sought out by Gwidion who considers the role of guardian to be meant for him and lusts for the power of the role which he means to corrupt. He seeks to gain trust and closeness to Phyllida and charm her with spells into bestowing him with the title. The struggle to maintain good over evil while keeping the balance between the fairy world and the humans is threatened by Gwidion and they are all faced with a challenge. Caught in the middle of a fairy war, a new era of leadership, and a struggle for power, Meg is forced to make a choice to fight to save the lives of those she loves, as she is thrust into a world laden with mystical and magical creatures, both good and evil, beyond her imagination. The imagery is superb and the folklore well written but the content is cryptic, oftentimes leaving the reader lost. The text would benefit from the addition of pictures for the reader to better visualize the creatures introduced from the fairy world. The conflict is real and well played out; however, it is often jeopardized by the subject matter that is eloquently described, although too abstract. A good choice for those well-read in fairy stories, not for the novice "fairy-tale" reader. Reviewer: Susan Redman-Parodi
School Library Journal
Gr 4–7—Just weeks after the climactic events of the Midsummer War in Under the Green Hill (Holt, 2010), Meg Morgan is beginning to understand the ramifications of her actions on that fateful night of the fairy battle. Mythological entities the world has not seen for generations are awakening, and no one is sure what that will mean. Meanwhile, the occupants of the Rookery are faced with a new threat in the form of Gwidion Thomas, an artist with a familial connection and sinister intentions toward the Guardian, Meg's great-great-aunt. As Meg struggles with the possibility of becoming the next Guardian, her youngest brother is taken by the fairies, and she might be the only one who can save him. With rich language and an abundance of interesting characters, Sullivan continues the story of the Morgan siblings and their friends as they navigate the exciting and dangerous crossover between the human and fairy worlds. Sullivan's writing has a timelessness that contrasts nicely with Meg's distinctly modern ideas and weaves a compelling story that will pull readers along. Though there is summary information about the first book scattered throughout, readers will benefit from familiarity with the characters and events in the preceding title. The ending leaves plenty of potential for future adventures.—Amanda Raklovits, Champaign Public Library, IL
Kirkus Reviews

Weeks after her pivotal role in the Midsummer War in Under the Green Hill (2010), contemporary American Meg Morton must decide if she's willing to "do the hard things" and become the Guardian of the Green Hill fairy sanctuary.

Visiting Great-Great Aunt Phyllida in the bucolic English countryside, Meg realizes she's next in line to become Guardian of the Green Hill, a role passed through female descendants of the bloodline. Elderly and increasingly ineffective, Phyllida's eager to prep Meg to mediate between the world of humans and the world of fairies. Although Meg feels a "mysterious pull . . . telling her to stay in England forever and be part of this strange life with the fairies," she wants time to be sure. When a male relative with magical skills arrives to force the unsuspecting Phyllida to declare him her successor, and the fairies kidnap Meg's little brother James, Meg's forced to act. As the future Guardian, only she can enter the Green Hill to rescue James and claim her birthright. Set in a bygone landscape of hedgerows, half-timbered cottages and horse-drawn carts and teeming with creatures of faerie lore, this sequel offers a serious heroine with "steel at [her] core," who discovers fairyland is not for the faint of heart.

Richly atmospheric storytelling in the tradition of Narnia and Nesbit. (Fantasy. 9-14)

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Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)
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Age Range:
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Read an Excerpt

Guardian of the Green Hill

By Laura L. Sullivan

Henry Holt and Company

Copyright © 2011 Laura L. Sullivan
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-7565-0


She Will Be My Creature

More skin than flesh, more bones than skin, the artist hunched over his easel. He added shading under the eyes and thickened the hair, then growled in disgust. It was still nothing like her, nothing like what he wanted her to be. The eyes were only wistful, not yet weak and sorrowful. The round chin looked too strong. ... It would never tremble. Even the short curling silver hair looked too tidy, nothing like the unkempt locks of one given up to despair. And that is how he needed Phyllida Ash — hopeless, self-pitying, cringing, and powerless.

He tore the paper off with a flourish and fed it to his goat.

"I am only half the artist my father was," he said bitterly, sketching out new lines on a fresh sheet.

"True," said the goat, "but you are twice the magician." He munched on the paper contemplatively. "Perhaps if you switched to charcoal."

"You just don't like the taste of ink, Pazhan," the man said. "Be glad I don't use oils. I will, though, just as soon as I can worm my way in. Into the house, into her confidence ... and into her place at last. One good sketch, and I'll have a hold on her, enough to create an opening. Then when she sits for me, when I can do a proper portrait, she will be my creature."

"Will she really do as you say, Gwidion? She'll give it up, just like that?"

"You've seen what I can do."

"Sketches to make the innkeeper give you a free night and a full flagon. Portraits to charm some gullible young woman into leaving her loved ones to follow you ... till you've had your fill. I've seen that, sure enough. But this is something else entirely. Phyllida Ash is a strong woman, bred to her role for generations, and she has powerful protectors. She may keep the fairies in check, but do you think they don't love her?"

"What of you, Pazhan? Do you love her?"

He shrugged his goat shoulders. "That is neither here nor there. I am part of your family. So long as there are Thomas men, I am yours, not hers, till such time as you strike me thrice in three days."

Which didn't quite answer the question, but Gwidion nodded. "My only inheritance. My father's only inheritance, and his father's before him, when it could have all been ours. All mine."

"Have I been such a bad bargain?" the goat asked archly, but Gwidion ignored him.

"Soon I will come into my own. No more wandering, a penniless rover. No more living by my wits, day to day, town to town. Here is where I belong, Pazhan, here at the Rookery, at the Green Hill. Whether they like it or not, I am home."


They Came to Me

Meg Morgan plucked a last plump jade-green berry from the thorny hedge just before the Gooseberry Wife could lurch her corpulent body close enough to nip. She gnashed her small, grinding teeth in pique as Meg escaped with her prize.

"You shouldn't tease her," Phyllida chided from across the lawn. "She takes her job very seriously."

The Gooseberry Wife was a lumbering, bloated caterpillar as long as Meg's arm. She haunted berry shrubs, guarding them from the marauding hands of youngsters, preserving the fruits for the cook's tarts and fools. Meg looked into her squinty eyes from a safe distance, but found herself compelled to look instead at the large black false eyespots on the top of her pale-green head.

"I'm sorry," Meg told her. "I want them for Bran."

The Gooseberry Wife shivered her segmented body in annoyance, making each spiny witch-wart hair along her back stand on end.

Meg carried her handful of berries back to Bran. He lounged on a chaise, scowling. Every few minutes he tried to rise, muttering something about wood to chop or rents to collect, but his family shoved him down again. He was restless, furious at his imposed sloth, but too weak to protest. After all, he'd died only two weeks ago.

It was teatime, a custom the children wished had followed the colonists to America. Here in England they realized how welcome a fourth meal is to someone who spends the better part of the day tramping through the woods, running, playing, and fighting. The more sedate adults, Phyllida and Lysander Ash, contented themselves with tea and thin, floating lemon slices and a few McVitie's digestive biscuits. The children — Rowan, Meg, Silly, and James Morgan, Finn Fachan, and Dickie Rhys — gorged themselves on scones and clotted cream, sardines on toast, eggs, seedcakes, nut cakes, and fruitcakes. To Phyllida's horror, they insisted their tea be served cold and sickeningly sweetened, and though they consented to lemons, they looked at them suspiciously if they weren't cut into wedges.

Now the carnage of crumbs lay scattered across the tables, and the children (save James, who was studying a small civilization of black ants) were playing croquet on the manicured lawn, making up rules as they went along. At times they seemed to confuse croquet and cricket.

"Out of bounds!" Silly shouted.

"No such thing," said Rowan, who really had no idea.

"Ow, my shin!" Dickie wailed.

"Sorry, no depth perception," Finn said, in a tone that sounded far from apologetic. "My point," he added, stopping to pull his black silk eyepatch into place. The game had degenerated into something like violent polo without the horses. Silly compensated somewhat for their lack with her raucous neighing laugh.

Dickie dropped out, joining Meg, while the others continued in deadly earnest. Rowan and Finn, antagonistic as ever, might have caused each other some serious harm if not for Silly getting between them, not as peacemaker but with her own keen desire to beat the boys. Legs were struck, feet trampled, turfs uprooted as they pounded across the lawn. Soon the rifle crack of mallet upon ball faded into the distance and peace reigned, more or less, in the English countryside.

Meg and Dickie drifted to the hedgerow and looked across the sunken wall of the ha-ha to the sheep-strewn meadow. The sheep, white with black faces, were echoed in the sky, deep lapis dotted with small white clouds barely tinged with a darkness that hinted at a distant storm. They grazed contentedly, unaware of the little men in green who methodically sheared the softest wool from their bellies.

"They're like chipmunks," Meg said absently, much to Dickie's bafflement.

"The sheep?" he asked, perplexed.

Meg gave a little laugh. "Oh, I forgot you can't see them. The Weavers are out among the sheep."

"And they look like chipmunks?"

"No, no, I didn't even realize I was talking out loud. I meant fairies are getting to be like chipmunks were back at Arcadia." Arcadia, sylvan seat of learning in upstate New York, was where all their parents taught. "They were pretty common, but they didn't let themselves be seen. Then when you saw one, it was always a little thrill. The fairies are getting to be like that. Commonplace somehow, not surprising anymore, but still extraordinary." She didn't think she had expressed herself very well, but Dickie understood.

"There seem to be more of them than usual," Meg went on. "Maybe it's just easier to see them for some reason. On the grounds, too. Phyllida told me, back before the war, that fairies don't generally come on the Rookery property, except for a few, like the brownie or the Gooseberry Wife. But I see other ones here every day now. The Weavers and flower fairies, and I even stepped on a stray sod yesterday, right here on the lawn."

"I wish I could see them," Dickie said.

"You can stand on my foot if you like. You said that's one way, stand on the foot of someone who can see fairies."

He sighed longingly but shook his head. "And end up like Finn, with a hazel stick in my eye? No, thank you. They don't like spies. Anyway, I have seen fairies, the ones who wanted to be seen, and for the most part I didn't enjoy it much." Despite his words, Meg noticed something like pride on Dickie's face. She remembered that evening when she was racing to the Green Hill as Seelie champion in Rowan's place. Every horror of the Unseelie Court had tried to stop her. The worst was the skinless Nuckelavee.

How brave Dickie had been that night, luring it away and foiling it with its nemesis, fresh water. He'd pooh-poohed her praise later, saying, "Nothing's so bad if you know what its weaknesses are." But Meg was still impressed by his valor. Even in bright, unthreatening daylight, when he was his pale, pudgy, sniffling self again, he possessed, in her eyes at least, the air of a hero.

"I wonder why we can all see them ... Rowan and Silly and James, I mean."

"You're related to Phyllida. It must be in the blood. Meg ..." He hesitated, not sure how to go on. "Phyllida doesn't have any children, you know."

Meg just looked at him.

"I mean, you four are it. And from what she says, it's always a woman of her bloodline who's the Guardian of the Green Hill. So that's just you and Silly. You two are the only ones left. I was just wondering if someday — it's not a nice thing to think about, but she is awfully old, and someday ..."

Meg's eyes widened in alarm. Oddly enough, it had never really occurred to her that she might be next in line. "No!" With all the chaos of the Midsummer War, she had been too preoccupied to carry things to their natural conclusion. The present was enough to fill her head, and though she had some vague idea that she had an obligation to learn about fairies, this suggestion of being Guardian was shocking.

"Phyllida will live a long time ... a very long time." Oh, how she hoped so, for love of the old woman and, now, for newer selfish reasons.

"Hasn't she said anything to you about it?"

"No, nothing." Come to think of it, there had been vague hints, mentions of her birthright, of the duties and obligations that come with gifts, of her family's heritage. But she thought it was just history, nothing to do with her own future.

Seeing how uncomfortable Meg was, Dickie wisely let it drop.

He was just wondering if asking Meg to point out which particular sheep were being sheared would count as an eye-losing offense when they were interrupted by hooves clattering on the cobblestone path that led to the croquet lawn.

A big roan horse skidded to a halt inches from Phyllida and Lysander, panting and lathered in sweat. His rider tumbled off and made the barest bow before gasping out, "Please, Lady, you must come quickly!"

Phyllida got to her feet, dusting the crumbs from her lavender frock and anchoring her rose-bedecked straw hat more firmly on her head. "What is it, Cain? What's amiss?"

"I don't know, ma'am. Young Evan came running to the stables and said whoever was fastest on a horse should go for the Lady. Jim said he was, but by the time he was finished bragging, I was on Lightfoot and away."

"Evan didn't give you any clue what it was about?" Phyllida asked even as Lysander hailed a servant and gave instructions that their carriage be readied.

"It's at Moll's house, is all I know. You're to go to Moll's house."

"Is it the baby? Oh, dear, has the doctor been sent for? I don't know why folk will still call me before the doctor for scalds and chicken pox. Cain, if your horse isn't done in, please ride for Dr. Homunculus and send him after us, just in case. Lysander, the coach —"

"Nearly ready, my dear," he said calmly. These little emergencies cropped up all the time and might be anything from a broken leg to a cow gone dry. If a pretty daughter stayed out all night, Phyllida was called, on the certainty that the fairies had snatched her. If a man went astray, they looked to her for a charm to win him back from what was undoubtedly a glamour of some sort. If dishes broke a bit too often, it was surely the result of mischievous bogies who had to be banished. Phyllida had some serious duties to perform as Guardian of the fairy sanctuary, the Green Hill, but more often she played a role somewhere between patron and witch doctor for her tenants and the villagers of Gladysmere.

Bran tried to push himself up, but Phyllida was instantly at his side. "Stay, Bran dear. You'll open your wound again." She might be his daughter, grown old in the real world while he was trapped by the fairies under the Green Hill, but sometimes she had to scold him like a mother. The arrow hole in his chest — mark of his great sacrifice in the Midsummer War — had nearly closed, but any vigorous movement still caused him great pain. If he wasn't very careful, the injury seeped thin pink-red blood through the bandage.

"But if it's the fairies —"

"If it's the fairies, I can handle it myself," Phyllida snapped. "I did it for seventy years without you."

Bran flinched, and Phyllida looked abashed. She hadn't meant to remind him how he had abandoned his wife and children for the twilight world under the Green Hill.

"It's likely nothing. You stay here and heal. Let May bring you some more tea."

Bran mumbled something about tea coming out of his ears, and that he'd had enough mollycoddling, but he settled back into the chaise.

"Can we go with you?" Meg asked as her great-great-aunt and -uncle made their way to the circular drive at the front of the Rookery.

"I don't see why not," Phyllida said. "It will be good for you. You can see a bit more of the countryside, meet some of the tenants. It's best to know the ins and outs of those who live and work on your land. Makes everything run so much more smoothly."

But it's not my land, Meg thought.

"Can James come too?"

Phyllida assented, but when Meg asked if he wanted to go, he told her with great brevity that he was still delving into ant culture and couldn't be disturbed in his scientific and anthropological endeavors. He explained this all with the word "no." At four years old, he was exquisitely single-minded.

"He'll be fine there," Lysander said. "May and June will look after him." May and June were maids, twin sisters born an hour apart, but in two different months.

Meg, less trusting, called out to her brother and sister in the distance where they still sported in their frenzied game with Finn. "Rowan! Silly! We're going on a drive with Phyllida." They answered with shouts and screams. "Did you hear me? Watch James, will you?"

Rowan waved and called something that sounded like an affirmative, so Meg ran back to the drive where the carriage, driven by a liveried coachman, was just rolling up. The two dapple-gray horses stomped and flicked their tails, annoyed at having been taken from their oats on such short notice.

With the wind whipping her hair and the bright July sun browning her neck and freckling her nose, it felt like a festival day. Though she loved the Rookery, and the grounds (and the house itself) were vast and varied enough to entertain almost without end, it was good to get away and catch a glimpse of the rest of the world. The Rookery was nestled against the deep woods, but as they went east, they came to more open country, rolling fields of high golden hay. They passed houses that seemed to be from another time, half-timbered cottages with dormer windows, flowers trailing over the sills, pear trees climbing the walls. Where the river ran parallel to the road, she saw a mill with a great wooden wheel turning eternally in the flow. Fields were divided by hedgerows or by dry stone walls made with rocks removed in the first plowing centuries before, stacked without a drop of mortar to hold them in place. From some of the fields rose little hills, like the Green Hill in miniature, some the size of giant tortoises, some as big as cars, some oblong, as large as a bus. Meg pointed them out to Dickie.

"They're tumuluses, I think. Tumuli? I'll have to ask the Wyrm." That learned but forgetful beast had fallen asleep in the sun-warmed carp pond back at the Rookery. "Graves, in any case, or barrows, as they call them here. They could be from the Neolithic. That's the Stone Age," he added, seeing that she didn't know but wouldn't ask. "They were probably a lot bigger, but have been worn down."

"You mean there are ... bodies ... under all of those mounds?" Fairies were ceasing to scare her, but she shivered at the thought of ghosts.

Lysander, overhearing, said, "Don't be silly, girl. There are bodies all around us." Meg looked, half expecting to see a field of corpses. "People have been treading this earth, and falling on it, for centuries ... millennia! Our tiny lives are but an ant's step along the long road of human history. Every man who has ever lived in this green and pleasant land, save those alive now, is dead and buried. Only think how they outnumber us! Makes our troubles seem wee, doesn't it?"

"I don't like to think about it," Meg said in a little voice.

"Lysander, leave her alone," Phyllida chided.

The sun was as warm as ever on Meg's shoulders, but beneath it blew the first breeze of impending evening, and Meg felt suddenly chilled. She made herself look at the barrows again, trying to dispel the feeling of doom. You're just being silly, she told herself. Dead people ... ghosts ... bosh! There, that's just a hill with sheep-cropped stubble on it, nothing more.


Excerpted from Guardian of the Green Hill by Laura L. Sullivan. Copyright © 2011 Laura L. Sullivan. Excerpted by permission of Henry Holt and Company.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

Laura L. Sullivan is a former newspaper editor, biologist, social worker and deputy sheriff who writes because that's the easiest way to do everything in the world. She lives in the woods of Kentucky with her loved ones. Guardian of the Green Hill is her second novel.

Laura L. Sullivan is a former newspaper editor, biologist, social worker and deputy sheriff who writes because that's the easiest way to do everything in the world. She lives in the woods of Kentucky with her loved ones. She is the author of Under the Green Hill and Guardian of the Green Hill.

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Guardian of the Green Hill 4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 6 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Please Laura L. Sullivan, give me more!
PidginPea More than 1 year ago
When I was younger, I was a big believer in fairies. I liked to think that they were flitting around in my backyard when I wasn't looking and hiding when I was, laughing at the silly human girl who was flipping up all the leaves of her mom's plants to try and catch a peek of one. This book has totally reignited my fascination with fairies. Sullivan weaves a really exciting plot, wonderful characters, and enchanting fairy lore all together into a phenomenal middle grade read. It's delightfully easy to lose yourself in the world she creates, but be careful: the real world will look a little dimmer and duller when you reemerge. { I received this book for free as a Goodreads First Reads giveaway. Full review originally posted on my blog, PidginPea's Book Nook. }
Blooming-with-Books More than 1 year ago
GUARDIAN of the GREEN HILL By Laura L Sullivan As a note to the reader, before you read Guardian of the Green Hill you should first read book one in the series Under the Green Hill. To fully understand the book and characters this is a must! Phyllida Ash is the object of Gwidion Thomas's scheme to take possession of both the Rookery and the Green Hill. A mere two weeks have passed since the battle that took place on the Green Hill on Midsummer Night. Bran is still within his Ash tree healing from his death at Meg's hand. James is acting unlike his normal loving self and instead cruel and mean to Meg and all he wants to do is eat. When Meg runs away after James is particularly cruel to her in front of the others including Dickie and Finn, she is drawn to Gwidion in the midst of a field of Bluebell Wood. There widion casts a spell on Meg using his power of drawing. He convinces Meg that when he comes to the Rookery that he must draw Phylidda and Meg is to remember nothing of this meeting. When Gwidion arrives at the Rookery the children are all enchanted by his artistic talents, but when he shows Phyllida a sketch he has done she refuses to sit for him as he has drawn her too well and her age is evident. But he manages to convince the children and Lysander that he should give the children art lessons. During the lessons he makes much of the boys, but when he finds out that Finn is not related he starts boxing Finn's ears. Gwidion then convinces the others that Finn made up the story and is not kind to poor Gwidion. Phyllida tells Meg that she would like to name her as her successor as Guardian of the Green Hill home. Meg doesn't want to agree to becoming the next Guardian yet but she does agree to start training under Phyllida. Throughout the story Meg is visited by various mythological creatures who thank her for waking them from their sleep when she won the battle on Midsummer Night without permanently killing her opponent. Meg is visited by the Ani Yantikwalski, a Cherokee spirit of lightening and thunder. Then she is visited by Bako-Nako, a two tailed cat from Nippon. Gwidion focuses his efforts on Rowan, convincing him that if he can do a portrait of Phyllida she will leave everything to Rowan! But Gwidion is determined to be the next Guardian and tries to kill both Phyllida and Meg. Lysander tries to stop Gwidion and dies in the process. To save her family Meg must keep Gwidion from catching until she can declare herself the next Guardian of the Green Hill at dawn. With the aid of a fairy spell she is able to keep out of Gwidion's reach. When Meg returns to the Rookery she must begin her duties as Guardian. Finn is given a prophecy that he will do something that will make everyone except Meg despise him. The Guardian of the Green Hill leaves you eagerly anticipating Book 3. What will Meg's parents say when she lets them know she can't return home? And what will Finn do to make all despise him? A thoroughly engrossing read so make time for a long weekend of excitement! Publisher provided an Advance Reader Copy for review purposes.
rhonda1111RL More than 1 year ago
I have not read the first book of the series and I felt a little lost at first. Though I enjoyed the story and it does stand alone. Phyllida Ash is the current guardian of the green hill she protects the fairies from humans and humans from ferries. Shes is in her 80's and Lysander Ash her husband have no children so no heir. Her nieces and nephews and friends come from America not sure why. Rowan is the oldest male and Meg is oldest female(Only females inherit the guardian of Green Hill) Silly and James who 4 are the Morgans. Their friends are Finn Fachan and Dickie Rhys. Their is a plot from distant relative to take controll of the guardian and the rookier through magic trickery. He paints things he wants to happen and wills it. He also has a talking goat that has to do what he is commanded to. James is taken down into the ferry kingdom and it is a test for Meg to rescue but no one can tell her. Her Aunts test was to rescue her father and did not succeed untill this year. So while she is 80 her father is young man. Their are humans in the village that are taking advantage of a few of the fae, but the children step into help and Meg has to decide what to do. Their is pressure for Meg to accept the guardianship but it has to be what she decides. If she doesn't the ferries will eventually be killed off and the humans will be worse too. Their is a lot going on in the book and it keeps your interested in the story. I know by the story that their will probably be another book at least. I would like to read more. I even would like to go and read the first sometime. I was given this ebook in exchange of honest review.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
He pulled them apart~Leo the Lion
Anonymous More than 1 year ago