Iylaine has a few questions
“Tired yet?” Vash asked after he and Iylaine had eaten their rabbit and were sitting quietly before the fire.
“Aye, but you said you would talk to me after we ate,” she said, perking up.
“You didn’t forget,” he sighed.
“No, I want you to tell me some things about elves.”
“I’m afraid I’ve already told you too much. My father will be angry with me.”
“How come?”
“I’m not supposed to talk to you at all. I followed you all this way hoping that you wouldn’t need my help, but you did. I’m certain he would agree that I couldn’t leave you alone tonight, but he will be angry when he finds out what I have told you.”
“About the fire?”
“I don’t know. Probably. But I don’t regret telling you that. Can you imagine what would happen if you got angry at something made of wood someday, such as a stuck door, and the door went up in flames because you stomped your foot and hated it?”
Iylaine laughed.
“You think that’s funny?” he smiled. “But you need to be careful. You can hurt people, don’t forget that. Especially me, so don’t get any ideas. Your father is probably right – it’s too dangerous for little girls, at least little girls that haven’t grown up knowing that they could make fire, and haven’t learned to be careful. But you’ll be careful, won’t you? Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Because if you start burning things up, I’m the one that will be punished, so don’t get any ideas. But I don’t think it was right that you didn’t know about it. And I don’t think it was safe. I always thought that elves simply knew about such things, but it would seem not. Perhaps my father thought the same thing.”
“Who is your father?”
“Oh, he’s the – he’s an elf like me. We have the same green eyes.”
“Does he like fire or water or what?”
“My father?” He rose to add more wood to the fire. “Earth.”
“What can he do?”
“Many things. Don’t ask me any more questions about my father. I know I’m not supposed to tell you about him.”
“How come?”
“No more questions. Mind if I lie down? I’m a bit of a lazy boy, like my horse.”
“I don’t mind. Can I ask you questions about me?”
“That’s rather vain of you. I’m a little hurt you didn’t want to ask about me.” He stretched out on the floor of the cave, his head close to the fire so that he might look up into her face.
“I can ask you questions about you, too, if you want.”
“Aren’t you tired?” he asked.
“That’s what my Da always says when I start asking questions,” she groaned.
“I see why.”
“Well, won’t you tell me how you know my name, if you don’t know Bertie’s name? And how you know my birthday, and so much about me? I want to know.”
“Because I knew you when you were a baby, of course. You used to live with us.”
“In your house?”
“No – well, yes. But your parents aren’t my parents.”
“My elf parents?”
“That’s right.”
Iylaine looked down into the fire.
“You’re suddenly quiet,” Vash said after a while.
“I don’t like them.”
“Do you even remember them?”
“No. But they didn’t want me, and they left me in the woods so I would die and the wolves would eat me. And they stole my baby brother. So they’re two times bad.”
“They knew Elfleda would find you. They didn’t want you to die, Iylaine,” he said softly. “They did love you. Everyone did. You were a sweet little baby.”
“Then how come they left me and took my brother?”
“I can’t tell you about that,” he sighed. “I can’t tell you anything, really. I already told you too much. Listen, Iylaine,” he said, sitting up again. “You mustn’t tell anyone about this night. You mustn’t tell the men, and you mustn’t tell the elves.”
“Can’t I tell my Da?”
“No. You must tell them that you found a cave by yourself, and slept here by yourself. This will all be our secret. And don’t show them what you can do with fire, and don’t show them you can’t be burned. It’s just as well that they don’t know.”
“Can’t I tell Father Brandt?”
“Certainly not!”
“Can’t I tell God?”
“Well, only if you pray quietly. Will you promise not to tell?”
“Can’t I even tell about my real birthday?”
“No.”
“But that means I have to lie.”
“That’s right, you do. You must contrive to lie as little as possible then. If they ask you where you slept, tell them you slept in a cave. That’s the truth. Only if they ask you, ‘Did you sleep alone?’ will you need to lie. The rest – everything I told you – that’s all secrets between you and me. The men won’t say, ‘Now what did that lazy elf boy that you never told us about tell you?’”
Iylaine laughed.
“You and I are permitted to have secrets, I believe. Now, will you promise? If you do, I shall tell you something else that may interest you.”
“All right, I promise I won’t tell.”
“Good,” he said, stretching out beside her again. “Now, did you ever wonder whether you had elf cousins?”
“No.”
He laughed. “You don’t like elves, do you?”
“I didn’t before I ever met you. I guess I thought they were all bad.”
“Except you?”
“Sometimes I’m pretty bad too!” she laughed.
“I had noticed. So do you wonder now whether you have elf cousins?”
“Do I?”
“Yes, you do. You have many cousins, but I’m thinking of one in particular, and that’s a big lazy boy named Vash.”
“Are you my cousin?”
“That seems to please you. My mother was your father’s sister. You look very much like her. She was very beautiful.”
“Did she die?” Iylaine asked, too young to have caught the compliment.
“The autumn before last.”
“Was she nice?”
“Very, very nice. You don’t remember her at all? With long, fair hair like yours?”
“I don’t remember any elves.”
“That means you don’t remember me either,” he said with a great sigh.
“I guess you were just a little boy,” she giggled.
“I suppose I was about the age you are now when I held you last, little girl,” he said thoughtfully. “My mother used to say that I told her your cheeks smelled like bluebells. Do they still?”
“I don’t think so,” she huffed.
“That’s a pity. I used to lie in the glades when the bluebells bloomed and remember that little baby girl I used to know. Perhaps it won’t remind me this spring.”
“Now you can remember me as a little girl, and not a baby girl.”
“That’s true. What will remind me of you now? Perhaps seeing a big ugly toad.”
“That will remind me of you!” she laughed.
“That’s better than being forgotten. But not by much,” he said, poking her in the knee.
“But did you like me already when I was a baby? Babies aren’t any fun. Wynnie likes them awfully much, but I don’t like them at all.”
“You will someday,” he yawned.
“Oh, no, I never will!”
“I hope you will.”
“How come?”
“Oh, because it seems a shame otherwise. Aren’t you tired?”
“No. Can I look at your ears?”
“My ears?”
“Everyone I know has gotten to see elf ears up close, except me. I can look in a mirror, but did you ever notice you can’t see your own ears in a mirror? So can I? Cousin?” she added sweetly.
Vash laughed. “You’re marvelous.”
“Can I?”
“Ladies say ‘May I.’”
“May I?”
“You may. Cousin.”
Iylaine leaned over him and brushed his hair back from the sides of his head so that she could see his ears. “Are they like mine?” she asked.
“I imagine that yours are prettier.”
“Well, I guess they’re just like men’s ears with a pointed tip,” she said after a serious inspection. “Like a fawn, that’s what Alwy says. I don’t think elf ears are ugly at all.”
“You ought to know what they feel like,” he laughed, swatting her hand away when she fingered one of the pointed tips. “And you ought to know that tickles!”
“Maybe I do!” she laughed.
“Did someone tell you that elf ears were ugly?” he asked with a frown after laughing with her for a moment.
“Malcolm did, only today.”
“Who is Malcolm?”
“He’s my cousin.”
“I’m your cousin, and I say they’re prettier than men’s ears.”
“That’s ’cause you’re an elf. Men like men’s ears better.”
“I suppose so. Is that why you always hide yours? I haven’t seen your ears in years.”
“My Da doesn’t want me to show them,” she said, pulling back her hair so that he could see them.
“Oh, you do look like my mother,” he said softly. “I shan’t forget her face as long as I have you.”
“Does my face make you sad?” she asked, letting her hair fall.
“A little. I wish you could remember her. She used to watch you, too, when you played in the forest. Sometimes we watched together. She missed you almost more than your own mother did. You were like a daughter to her.”
“What was her name?”
“I shouldn’t tell you, but I shall anyway. Her name was Illira. It is the wind that comes before a storm and turns the leaves so that their silver bellies show. You will think of her the next time you feel such a wind?”
“Aye.”
“Then I’m not sorry I told you.”
“It’s our secret.”
“That’s right.” He stared up at the ceiling of the cave for a while, remembering his mother, and when he looked back at Iylaine he saw the corners of her eyes were wet. “Are you crying?”
“No.”
“Then you must be tired.”
“No,” she said, but then she could not hold back a yawn.
“Why don’t you lie down a while all the same?”
“Will you still talk to me?”
“If you like.”
She stretched out next to him and laid her head on his arm, but it took a bit of squirming before she found a reasonably comfortable position on the cold stone floor.
“I usually bring blankets,” he said apologetically, “but when we left this afternoon I never dreamt you would lead me all the way here.”
“I don’t care.”
“You are a proud one. You don’t like to admit when you’re cold, or hungry, or frightened, or tired, or crying.”
“I’m not any of those things now.”
“You are tired, though. You’ve come a long way. Why don’t you try to sleep?”
“But you said you would talk to me.”
“Oh, what about?”
“Well… why don’t you tell me what it’s like to be an elf?”
“You don’t even know, do you?”
“I guess I don’t know how to be anything. The men don’t want me and the elves don’t want me either.”
He sighed and took her hand. “I wish I could tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Tell you why I can’t tell you.”
“‘Cause your Da will be mad?”
“That’s one reason. Why don’t you try to sleep?”
She yawned. “Did you hear that?” she asked suddenly.
“What?”
“It sounded like a horn outside,” she said, sitting up.
“I believe it was only the wind blowing over the mouth of the cave,” he said. “Come here and lay your head.”
She lay down again and closed her eyes.
“I wish I could tell my mother about you,” he whispered, “and the funny things you say. ‘I hate you, stupid branch!’”
“Will you come and play with me sometimes?” she mumbled.
“My father would never allow it. I wish I could.”
“Won’t I ever see you again?”
“You shall, I promise. And I shan’t be far, even if you can’t see me. Just don’t try any more adventures like this one, because I’m not always around to keep an eye on you.”
“When can I see you again?”
“Someday when you’re older. When you stop being so fascinated with fire and start thinking that you might like to learn how to swim after all.”
“I want to learn now, if you teach me, cousin.”
He chuckled. “No, you don’t. But I’m flattered you would pretend you do in order to see me again. And I wish I could tell my mother about your little trick of calling me cousin when you want something.”
She giggled.
“Now, cousin, I want something. Will you do it for me?”
“What?”
“Go to sleep. We still have some riding to do tomorrow morning, and I want to get you to your castle by dawn.”
“I wish I could tell my Da about you,” she yawned. She squirmed closer to him and slipped one arm beneath his own in order to wrap her hand around his wrist. “I’m happy I have a cousin that likes me and my pointed ears.”
She soon slept, but Vash lay awake for a long while afterwards, listening to the horns of the men calling from near and far until their sound was muffled by the falling snow.
