#the fairy tales of ella and meline | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ellaofoakhill · 11 days ago

Text

The Fairy Tales of Ella and Meline, Chapter Three: What We Choose For Ourselves

Ella relaxed as she settled into the kneeling position, hands on thighs, eyes closed, her mind like water at the bottom of the ocean, nothing but the tide of her breath, and the pulse of her blood.

And a niggling just at the edge of consciousness. She remained settled, turning her mind to observe the disturbance, but it slid away, a hexcat at the edge of the firelight. Yet when she returned to her contemplation, there it was again.

She gave the tiniest shake of her head, and opened her eyes. The shrine sat in the corner of the armoury, a white ribbon and brass posts cordoning it off from the practice floor. The silver lamps cast a bright glow over two portraits: Master, a grandmotherly smile crinkling her features, the hilt of a training sword visible behind her right hip—an outdated painting, from before she lost her eye, her hair in its silver bun with three pins pushed through; and Teacher, the Great Sage Beyond the Moon, simple and realistic—subverting the stylization typical of the depictions of Great Sages—their lips curled back in a toothy smile, vivid against their dark gremlin fur, black back then, with not a trace of grey.

Behind them hung old broken friends. Stone and claw had rent Honesty’s links; Ella could not have asked for more from any other hauberk. Patience, her maille belt, her buckle split by forces even her flawless construction could not withstand. Wisdom and Concentration, so warped and cracked one would have to know they were greaves to believe it. All that remained of Laughter was her scabbard, hung on a peg, the sword herself at the bottom of the sea. Kindness, her disc and rim torn almost in three, the once beautiful design on her boss grotesquely distorted; Ella knew of no shield that had done so much for her wielder. Clarity, her cheekplate riven in two places; Ella would not have seen her eleven thousandth birthyear had her helm not died so she would live. The war mask, the face of Shrannyd, blue and beautiful and white and terrible, was the only piece of Ella’s old panoply unharmed.

And Mother’s helm. Truesilver where all the rest was soulgold. The only treasure Ella claimed from Kulkarax’s hoard, long before her first grey hair.

Ella touched her forehead to the floor, rose, and shook herself out. A smile spread across her face, that stayed as she locked up the armoury. Meline was coming. Time to get bathed and changed.

***

The bell brought Ella running, leaping down the steps three at a time. She stopped on the landing, straightened her blouse, adjusted her girdle, made certain her hose lay properly, wondered at herself for this unprecedented attention to aesthetics, and opened the door.

“Good evening—Havel?” She had not expected to be looking up.

“Master?” He was dressed in his usual attire, his training clothes slung over one shoulder. “You look nicer than usual. Are we… is tonight special?”

“Our next night was the tenth, wasn’t it?”

“The ninth, Master,” he said, “you’re always very clear about dates since The Porridge.”

Ella blinked. Several times. “Oh.”

“Should I… should I go home?”

“No, no, it’ll be fine,” Ella swung herself and the door back, “I’m just entertaining this evening.”

“Enter—” Havel might have been told by a reliable source that Gaea, the world on which he stood, was flat. He put the back of his hand to Ella’s forehead.

“Oh stop, I’m not sick!” She slapped his hand away.

“But you are a little warm…”

“I just got out of the bath!”

“And blue—”

“That’s makeup!”

“And you’ve never entertained that Mom remembers.”

“Even Theodora of Deeprock forgets things!”

“… When?”

Ella wracked her brain. “Like that I entertain! Sometimes! In a long while! When the confluence of moon and stars is just right!”

“… Is it—”

“Yes! Now,” Ella clapped Havel’s elbow, “you have a set of riding leathers here, don’t you?”

“I,” Havel stepped inside at Ella’s gesture, “I think so. Are you sure they’re appropriate?”

“Moreso than your current attire.” Ella glanced at the patches on Havel’s bib overalls; thank the powers Theodora would rather lop off her hands at the wrists, her wings at the stubs, and her feet at the ankles than have any child of hers go out with a hole in his britches. “No time for a proper bath, but you should wash up a bit.”

“Will do, Master.” He started up the stairs.

“Make sure to get behind both pairs of ears!”

“Yes, Master!” She heard more than a little laughter between Havel’s footfalls.

She sighed. “This could be a long night.”

“I doubt that, since we’re still in August.”

Ella jumped and spun around, catching the door in exactly the wrong spot on her elbow. She snapped out her arm—the one not currently a lance of tingles—and caught it before it could slam in Meline’s face. “Meline! Good—” She remembered her lessons some twenty millennia gone, drew herself up, and swept into a long, low bow. “Good to see you again, and welcome.” She picked up the brass tray on the bench beside the coat pegs. “Enter, and partake of my food and drink.”

“How formal.” Meline stepped inside and partook as Ella closed and latched the door behind her. “That was your student?”

“Yes.” Ella took Meline’s cloak and hung it on a peg as Meline wiped her feet on the mat. “I’m afraid I made a scheduling error. I’ll properly introduce you once he’s washed up.”

“Of course.”

“In the meantime,” Ella gave herself the slightest shake and offered an arm, “shall I give you the tour?”

“By all means,” Meline took the proffered arm in a firm grip. “That girdle becomes you, by the way.”

“Oh.” Ella’s ears warmed. “Thank you.”

***

They would have said hello to Coarser, had he not been out for his evening graze. They moved from the stable to the forge, but since Meline was familiar with both spaces, Ella soon found herself escorting Meline upstairs, and realized an important flaw in Oakhill’s construction: there was not quite enough room for Meline and herself to walk abreast, given how Meline’s shoulder pressed against her arm. Not a problem in itself, but halfway up the stairs to the main hall Ella caught a whiff of sunshine and beeswax and a crisp autumn morning. It grew stronger when Meline caught her hair on a splinter sticking out from the wall. Meline waved away Ella’s apologies, and gracefully consented to wait while Ella extricated her hair.

“How long have you been here, now?”

“Oh, about six hundred years or so,” Ella said, carefully freeing the last lock. “There! How long have you been at Wild Rose?”

“A shade longer, nearly eight.” Meline took Ella’s arm again. “It’s changed so much since the other humans…” Ella pushed open the door to the main hall, “Oh. I haven’t seen a proper hall like this in…”

“The hardest part was carving it out.”

“I guess so.” Meline spun on the spot. “That must’ve taken a decade!”

“Thereabouts.”

“… Question.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve mostly lived by yourself, right?”

“Barring students, yes. I settled here a few centuries after I finished training my last one.”

“But you haven’t lived with anyone since.”

“… Yes.”

“And you’ve kept mostly to yourself.”

“Ah.” Ella set a hand on the spotless table beside her. “You’re wondering why a fey who lives by herself and doesn’t entertain would put so much effort into a space she hardly uses.”

“Yeah,” Meline started braiding her hair, “not how I would’ve put it, but yeah.”

Ella leaned against the table, crossed her arms, and looked up at the window above the hearth. “The tree wanted it this way. Besides, we haven’t always been this size on Gaea; who’s to say I won’t need this space one day?”

“It seems to me we were once tall enough that even this space would be nowhere near enough to accommodate me, let alone someone like Havel.”

“I suppose, though by the time humans are calling fey like elves and Havel giants again, this tree will be long dead.”

“Perhaps.” Meline’s focus returned to Ella, and she extended her hand. “Show me the rest of Oakhill?”

***

Oakhill was certainly a big tree from the outside, but it hadn’t occurred to Meline just how much space Ella had carved out on the inside. The main hall was roughly a foot of the way up the trunk. Rooms of any size had thick oak columns running through them. Every wall and ceiling was domed or arched. Pictures hung here and there, mostly of rolling landscapes.

“You’ve been to the land of snows?” Meline gestured to a painting at the top of the fourth flight of stairs. If she was honest, the question gave her the chance to work a stitch out of her side.

“Ah!” Ella leaned in close and Meline felt her face warm. “Yes. After my last home burned down, I thought I’d explore parts of Gaea I hadn’t seen before settling again.” She gestured to a dot of yellow at the shadowy foot of a pair of mountains. “That was my fire. A water troll was generous enough to paint this for me.”

Meline almost commented. A troll! Wow, times have changed. “And how long did you spend at that?” she said instead.

“Not more than a few nights, though—”

“I meant exploring.”

“About… about a thousand years, I think.” A tender smile graced Ella’s features. And… was there a little sadness to it? “It was nice just to see people and travel with them, and teach them a little.”

“Did you never wander when you were young?”

There was definitely sadness now. “Eventually. But there was… a quest… I went on when I first left home. Afterward…”

Meline mentally kicked herself. “Sorry, let’s talk about something else.”

Ella’s gaze lingered on the mountains a moment longer. “Yes, let’s.” They continued on down the hall. “I think I need to expand these passages soon.”

“They seem plenty spacious to me.”

“Really? Whenever we go up a stairwell, you have to push tight against me to make it by, don’t you?”

Not for the first time, Meline was glad her blushes didn’t show. “I didn’t notice!”

“Well, regardless—”

“What’s that room there?” Anything to misdirect from the sweat about to break out on Meline’s palms.

“Oh—uh…” Ella had a look on her face like every bad liar, “just a storage room.”

Meline shot her a look of high skepticism. “A storage room, you say?”

“I—yes. No. I’m just... may it please wait for another time?”

Now Meline was curious. “… Alright. This is your home, I won’t stick my ears in.”

Ella’s transparent relief made Meline’s lips twitch. “Thank you. Uh,” she resembled a chipmunk calculating the quickest route to the nearest tree, “how about my library, then?”

Meline felt her pulse quicken. “You—no, I shouldn’t be surprised you have a library. Please, show me.”

They were at the library door—up another two flights of stairs—when Meline heard quick, heavy footfalls on the stairs behind them.

“Meline,” Ella said, extending a hand, “I don’t believe you’ve… met…” she waited until his shoulders cleared the landing, “my student, Havel of Deeprock. Havel,” she waited until his puffing subsided, “this is Meline of Wild Rose. She’s my guest this evening, and I am giving her a tour of Oakhill.”

If Havel had sounded surprised at the door, it was nothing to how he looked now. Pure confused grey flashed across his skin. Meline held her breath. And quietly let it out when yellow spots started mixing with the grey. “Well met, Miss Meline. Any friend of Master Ella’s is a friend of mine.”

Meline bowed back. “Ella mentioned Theodora of Deeprock is your mother?”

He nodded, his tight curls nearly brushing the ceiling. “Do you know her?”

Meline shook her head. “Only by reputation. Everyone in ten miles, myself included, wants Deeprock glass.”

The yellow won out, as did his broad smile. “I’ll tell her you said so.” He turned to Ella. “You were showing Miss Meline the library?”

“Indeed.” Ella pushed the door open with one shoulder. “Care to join us? You can pick out your next study piece.”

“If I’m not intruding?”

Ella darted a look at Meline, who smiled and shook her head.

There were three levels, with a central stair winding about a sturdy oak column. Havel immediately took it up to the next level. The aisles between the shelves had been carved from the living wood, as had the shelves themselves, still part of the walls, floor, and ceiling, and covered in whorls of flowers and foliage. “It comes in handy, sometimes, being so small.”

“You appreciate it, too.” The warmth in Ella’s voice was clear. “Could you imagine lugging the wood needed for these shelves up those stairs?”

“I could, but I don’t want to.” Ella chuckled. Meline’s gaze swept over countless volumes. “If you’ve only been here six hundred years, how do you have so many books? In so many styles, by so many authors? This, here, for instance,” Meline picked out a slim volume in plain wood and cloth binding. “I don’t even—who is Nagharzhu-”

“Nagarjuna,” Ella said, brushing her hand over Meline’s as she took the book in one hand. “He was a human monk and philosopher, and I listened in on and transcribed some of his lectures.” She leafed through the heavy paper, her fingers tracing the letters as she read.

“What’s a ‘monk’?”

“Like a sage, only they tend to live in large groups.”

“Ah.”

“My teacher found the parallels between the humans’ spiritual teachings and our own fascinating when I showed them.”

“You have a spiritual teacher?” She was so close Meline could smell the rich pinch of lavender on her.

Ella’s smile deepened. “The Great Sage Beyond the Moon.”

“W-wait,” Meline tried and failed to ignore the smell and the closeness, “I—they’re a gremlin, right?”

“That’s right. They found me when I was as low as I’ve ever been.” Warm pink and a tender smile softened the lines of her face. “They saved me.”

Say it, a voice in Meline’s head urged.

What?

Something! Anything! If you listen to her rough, furry voice another second you’ll burst!

“Anything” is a bit broad!

Start with that old line of Sali’s!

Which one!

It went something like “How dark was the world before you fell into it”?

Ugh! No! At best, she’d laugh at me!

I dunno, you’re the one who’s falling in love with her!

I’m not—

Don’t lie to me!

You are me!

Yeah! Don’t lie to yourself!

“… I—”

A bell started clanging. Meline jumped out of her skin as Ella replaced the book. “What is it?”

To herself, Meline likened Ella to a sweet old bull whose daily mischief included sidling up for a flank scratch. As Ella’s shoulders set and she started moving, Meline jogging to keep pace, she remembered what one bull in her hometown’s herd had done to a dagger-cat that dared hunt one of his calves.

“Neither Coarser nor Tobi rings that bell lightly,” Ella said, wrenching the library door open.

Havel careened down the stair, jumping the last half-dozen steps to the ground. “Master—”

“I heard. Come.” Havel obeyed. Meline took the rear.

“Do you think it’s a demon?”

Meline’s skin erupted in gooseflesh.

“We’ll find out,” Ella said, taking the stairs two at a time. “Help me dress.”

“Dress?” the word was out of Meline’s mouth before she could stop it.

“I am a lord, and this is my demesne,” Ella said, shrugging her shoulders and reaching in her pocket as they came to the door she had so frantically avoided, “and I will not suffer a demon to rampage across my lands.”

A key clicked in the lock. Ella commanded, and the door swung open without a sound. “I was hoping to show you this at a later date,” Ella said as she strode for a pair of copper doors at the far end. “Welcome,” three more keys shot from her hand into the bolt holding the doors closed. Ella spoke, her voice crackling with power; the doors flashed letters and shapes faster than Meline’s eyes could see, and then those doors too swung wide, “to my armoury.”

The space behind the copper doors was not large. Even so, Meline was not expecting to see suits of armour and racks of weapons of every kind she knew and more.

“Sunbeam gold and moonbeam silver … and truesilver too.” Meline said to herself. “I almost need shadow glasses just to look in here.” She backed away from the doors. Havel was helping Ella into a suit of silver armour. “You’re actually doing this.”

Ella looked at Meline like she’d said poppyseeds were a painkiller as she hung a sword on her hip. “Stopping a demon? Can anyone else around here?”

“I thought—” Meline’s eyes fell on a shrine in the corner. Of the entire set of traditional fey armour hanging above it, only the blue and white war mask was intact; all the rest was unuseable. “… Are you a demon slayer?”

Ella laughed. “No, but I knew one once.” She threw a shield over her back and took a spear from behind the copper doors. She started helping Havel dress. “If you’re coming, you should wear protection. Demons like to add curses to the wounds they inflict.”

Meline considered the weapons and armour she saw. “I’m an earth fairy. I should be fine with that stonemail if I hang back.”

There was a soft rattling crash as Havel’s scale coat fell down over his padded shirt. As he strapped a sword on his belt and threw a square of sand-coated wood that had more in common with a wall than a shield over his back, Ella went to the shrine, and knelt. Her rough, handsome features softened as she pressed her hands together. Her lips moved too soft and quick for Meline to make out her words. She touched her forehead to the ground, stood, and tied the mask over her face, replacing her helmet. Around her neck she hung a silver horn.

“Alright.” She spun on her heel. “You’re ready?”

“Yes, Master,” Havel said, his voice muted behind his helm.

Ella looked at Meline; it took a moment to realize she expected a response. “Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

***

Coarser was waiting in the stable, pawing the ground. He already had his barding mostly on, he just needed a quick cinching. In the spot on his cheek the barding left bare, colours swirled, resolving into a map showing where Tobi the cat had seen the demon, east of the house and shed and north of a set of huge iron panels. It was not a large creature, possibly a squirrel, though by the brief description Tobi had given him before dashing into the humans’ house, one would be hard-pressed to identify what it had been.

“Havel,” Ella said in a quiet, commanding voice as they started out, “What is a demon?”

Havel jumped at the address, but answered as if he were reciting, “a demon is an entity made of projected intent and ambient negativity. They have no physical body of their own, but they use spiritual magic to interact with the physical world. Here on Gaea, they’re most commonly encountered around human towns and cities.”

“Good. And why are they dangerous?”

Meline, following just behind Havel, saw his shoulders start to relax. “Uh, they’re dangerous because,” he continued, “they feed on emotions like anger, sadness, and fear, and are drawn to folks who are especially negative. Their presence makes those emotions worse, and they can get someone stuck deeper and deeper in those feelings until they’re so desperate to escape them they’re willing to do anything.”

“Including make a pact?”

“Yes, Master,” Havel said as they started around the back side of the humans’ north outbuilding, “and a pact is a deal made between a demon and a person.”

“Are there any limitations on what kind of person a demon can make a pact with?”

“Not really,” Havel said. “There have been fey, humans, dragonkin, creatures of Fey, Gaea, and Nidd, and even spirits that have made pacts with demons.”

“And what is the nature of a pact?”

Havel thought for a moment. “The demon agrees to help the person do or get something, and in exchange, the person gives the demon something the demon wants—usually complete control over the person’s body, mind, and soul.”

“Glad you’ve kept up with that reading I gave you,” Ella said over her shoulder, “In addition to your own studies.”

“It was interesting, in a scary sort of way.” Havel caught Ella up in a few huge steps. Meline sped up until she was at Ella’s other side. “So how can we help, Master?”

The pride in Ella’s smile as she looked up at her student belied her words. “Maybe you aren’t all the way caught up on your reading, then.”

“It’s—”

“Depressing, and scary, and therefore hard to read too much at once?”

“… it uses a lot of words I don’t know in weird ways, so I understand less about the words I do know.”

“Ah.” Despite herself, Meline almost laughed at the look on Ella's face. Was she always this wide of the mark?

“It’s those things too, though, Master,” Havel said as if he’d just poked a toddler a little too hard.

“Take your time reading, then,” Ella said. “Worldly magics and physical arms cannot harm a demon, but they will be repelled, if not destroyed outright, by spiritual positivity when not bound by a pact. But even if all the Great Sages surround a demon with their perfect love, a binding pact will maintain a demon’s existence until such time as the person who made the pact dies, or frees themselves of its influence.”

She knows an awful lot about demons for someone who isn’t—

Shut up! She’s so cute when she’s being a teacher I could—

“So the person is the demon’s weakness… oh.” Havel stopped walking. “Master, are we gonna have to…?”

Ella turned and faced him, planting the butt of her spear in the ground. “There are other ways. If the demon’s end of the bargain is still unfulfilled, we can persuade the person involved to renounce it, and to accept our help. We can even do so after the terms of the pact are met, but the process is more involved, and more dangerous: we would have to restrain the poor creature and either find, or build, a place to hold it while I work. I might even need Valdr's help, in that case.”

“So we don’t have to kill anyone?”

Ella shook her head and clapped Havel on the elbow. “Killing is a choice. And I’m not choosing it tonight.”

The grass was clipped short by the fence, not even up to Meline’s waist. Her steps slowed as she felt the familiar nausea and spasm of iron, even if the stonemail helped.

“Spread out,” Ella said once they were across. “We need to find the creature, and determine if the pact has been fulfilled.” She patted Havel’s elbow. “Remember your circles. They might save your life tonight.”

Havel nodded, and despite the situation Meline felt a flush of warmth in her chest.

“Meline?”

“Yes?” She managed to keep her voice level.

“You know your circles?”

“Yes.” Meline eyed the other side of the fence. “A witch needs to know how to keep bad influences from harming her patients.” Something clicked in Meline’s memory. “Though speaking of circles, do you have one around Oakhill?”

“Circles are harder to maintain over a large area. I have other wards running along the fenceline.”

That’d explain why I never sensed a circle while I was there. “Why along the fenceline?”

“Really the humans living here sensed my wards and laid their fenceline along the same path. Come—” Ella sniffed, and stifled a groan. “It was definitely here.”

Burning rubber, sulfur, and the raw smell of fresh death hit Meline’s ears and started them streaming. She pulled a half-mask from her medicine bag and handed it to Havel, drawing one out for herself. It was amazing what crushed sage and a little potioneering could do.

Coarser led them closer to the fence, looking and sniffing despite the watering of his eyes; Meline would have to make a mask for him, too. Her skin crawled as they drew closer; any tuft of grass could hide it—

Wait, no it couldn’t! Meline asked the ground to let her feel through it. And out in all directions for perhaps three feet, she could feel every root and stone. But no moving, living thing; even the earthworms had gone. “I can feel if it tries sneaking up on us,” she said, “but it can probably jump further than my earthsight.”

“Good thinking,” Ella said, “thank you.”

“No problem. I actually use something similar while I… ugh…” The earth where the demon had stood was black and sick. Anything growing there was going to die in a matter of weeks, maybe days. Meline suddenly wished she was wearing something more closely resembling armour.

“What?”

“It was standing right over there.” Meline pointed.

Havel was halfway through a word of power when the hilt of a dagger glowing yellow rapped his shoulder. “Leave the earthsight to Meline, Havel. You don’t need to find out what demonic corruption feels like.”

He rubbed his shoulder, though Meline doubted it’d caused any actual pain. “Yes, Master. Can we follow it, then?”

“Meline?”

Meline moved up beside Coarser. “The feeling’s weaker heading north, and stronger heading southeast.”

“Excellent. Are you alright with staying at the front?”

No, but I’m the obvious choice for it, aren’t I? “Yeah, I can handle this.”

“Just stay close to Coarser; he’ll get you out of here when we find it.”

“Right.” Staying slightly off the trail—it felt like someone rubbing half-rotten fish in her face—Meline proceeded at a pace quick enough they were probably gaining on it, but not so brisk as to walk them into an ambush. To her right, she could just barely feel the fence, its presence an unpleasant thrum against the back of her hand and top of her foot.

“She moves quietly, Master.” Havel probably didn’t realize earthsight sharpened Meline’s hearing.

“Pay attention to how she moves, minding her feet and timing her noisiest steps with the breeze and the grass rustling. And how she spreads her weight between her feet and her staff.”

Meline wrenched her attention back to the trail. Earthsight was also making Ella’s compliments, delivered in a more resonant version of her usual voice, harder to ignore.

“She’s modified the stonemail you gave her, too.”

“The stripes and spots are a nice touch,” Ella agreed. “Even a fey horse would have trouble matching her camouflage.”

Coarser snorted what sounded like grudging admittance.

“Oh come, she’s good en—”

Meline ducked; she’d barely felt the tremor to her right, where her earthsight weakened closer to the fence. Flattening herself to the ground, a huge shape whooshed through the space she’d been standing in. She sprang back up in an instant, staff whirling and smacking flesh before she could properly see what she was striking. “Run!”

This wasn’t a squirrel; this was a rat, now with three writhing tails that clattered with barbs. Her lower jaw split as she roared.

Meline settled her feet. “Do you know me?” There was something in the cast of the rat’s features that looked familiar. “You look like you might be related to Hepzibah.” She gestured for Ella and Havel to get back.

“Let us go.” Meline had cleaned out abscesses that felt and smelled like that voice sounded. “We need to run or we will die.” The demon gathered the rat’s body to charge. Meline spoke a word of power and kicked, the ground slid out from under the rat, and she scrambled to right herself. Meline was halfway through telling the earth to clothe her in jagged stone when a golden note swelled on the air.

The rat screamed in two voices. Ella played another note, her horn softly glowing, and the poor creature writhed on the ground. Ella’s fingers began to dance along the seven holes on the horn’s side. “Skip Me Down to the Pasture”, Meline thought, or “Got Me Nothin’ But Hair”, as Ella would probably know it. Whichever song Ella had in mind, a soft glow emanated from the horn, and the rat’s hide began to steam as she shrieked, the demon raking the rat’s claws across the ground to get away from Ella, but lacking the strength to do anything but crawl.

With one hand, Ella continued to play. With the other, she drew her sword, and Meline had to shield her eyes. She never spoke a word… how much spiritual power does she have?

Once Ella had walked around the rat, the horn ceased, and the light from her sword went out. She ran to Meline, horn bouncing on her chest. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m—” Meline’s face must’ve cast a light of its own as Ella took it in her hands, looking her over. Meline could only take a few seconds before she shook Ella’s hands loose. “I-I said I’m fine! It never touched me at all.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes!” She didn’t feel half so annoyed as she sounded. “I’m perfectly capable of checking myself over!”

After a moment in which Ella’s eartips might have blued, she nodded. “The rush of battle can make a body—”

“Yes, I know that, too. Go help that poor thing.”

With a last glance at Meline, Ella turned back to the rat. The blaze of her sword returned. “Demon,” her voice was gentler than Meline expected, “what was your half of the pact?”

The rat twitched on the ground. Ella took a step forward. The demon hurled the rat forward. Towering over Ella, head and shoulders over Havel, the rat crashed against a wall of light and fell smoking to the ground. Now Meline saw the circle Ella had cut with her sword; the grass had hidden it.

“What was your half?” Ella asked as if nothing had happened. The demon growled, slime bubbling from the rat’s jaws, but already the demon seemed too weak to compel her. “What was your half of the pact?”

The black vapour rising from the rat’s boiling body condensed and hit the barrier with a crash, floating away on the air as a white mist.

The demon’s lips pulled back in six directions. “To help the rat escape.”

“And has she succeeded?”

“Ten miles we needed to travel, by her reckoning.” Its breath rasped in her throat. “We haven’t made it one.”

Ella nodded, and sheathed her sword. “So you have not fulfilled your half.” Meline clenched her hands to keep them from shaking. “Let her go.”

The demon hissed.

“Let her go.”

The rat’s claws tore furrows through the ground as the demon bared her misshapen teeth.

“I said…” Ella stepped into the circle. The demon’s charge stopped before it started. Every piece of Ella’s armour glowed and the ground hissed where she stepped; Meline felt the corruption burning away. “Let.” No part of her shone brighter than the mask, its blue and white halves seemed to breathe in the rippling air. She raised her hands like a mother welcoming her long-wandering child home. “Her.” The demon pressed the rat against the barrier, smoking at the contact. It squealed, the rat’s tails lashing as it fought to free itself.

“Go. In the name of the Great Sage Beyond the Moon.”

The demon screeched as Ella’s hands touched the rat, black smoke billowing as ichor dribbled to the ground. Its body froze, its six eyes locked wide, its six limbs crumpled, its teeth a hairsbreadth from Ella’s face as its split jaws snarled in a rictus of agony.

Slowly, Ella pulled away. Only in the light coming off her could Meline see the shadow writhing in Ella’s hand, a single fibre still tying it to the rat.

“I don’t know your name,” Ella said to the rat, “but you never needed this kind of help. Let it go, and wherever you need to run to, I will help, if I can.”

Every hair on the rat’s body stood on end. Her hands fell on Ella’s shoulders, her knuckles white, her claws screeching on glowing silver. “Please help me.”

Meline heard a soft shick as Ella’s sword cut the last tendril. The shadow writhed as it crumbled to nothing. The rat’s four extra eyes fell out, their sockets closing, as her extra limbs and tails fell away, smoking and dissolving in the night’s clean air, and her jaw knitted back together. Before the glow had fully faded from Ella’s armour and horn, an ordinary rat sat within the circle.

She looked at her hands, and the rest of herself. “I-I’m me again!”

“You are.” Ella began cleaning her sword.

The rat looked around at the three of them. “I’m sorry, I—”

Ella raised a hand. “What’s your name?”

The rat knotted her hands together. “Clarisse.” She bowed her head lower. “Clarisse Slough.”

“Was anyone hurt while you were possessed?”

“No.” The rat shook her head. “No, I kept it from doing that much, at least.”

“Good.” Ella seemed, now the demon was dealt with, to be at a loss.

Meline took a couple steps forward. “You were running away, right?”

Clarisse nodded. “Things are bad north of here. Finally had enough, but it’s hard to get out.”

Meline raised her eyebrows. “Bad how?” Clarisse shook her head; she’d started trembling. “I’m sorry… can we…” she glanced at Ella, who nodded, “can we help you on your way?”

Clarisse raised her head. “You’d help me after—nono, please, I’m fine, I’m—” her belly rumbled like a mill grinding grain.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Ella asked. “I live in the oak tree over by the house there, and I’ve lots of food kept by. Just a meal, and a pack of food,” she looked at Clarisse’s torn, filthy tunic, “and perhaps a little coin for some new clothes.”

Clarisse looked between them. “I—I’m…”

Meline put her arms as far around Clarisse as they’d reach. Ella turned away, and started giving Havel a few points on properly cleaning a blade, to give Clarisse some privacy as she cried.

***

“That was an exciting evening,” Meline said as Clarisse waved one last time before disappearing around the corner of the house.

“Sorry it got interrupted,” Ella said, finally lowering her hand; the blood would soon return to it. “I was hoping to show you the conservatory.”

Meline tilted her head, flashing Ella a smile which momentarily lit up the world. “You have a conservatory?”

Ella hoped the flush of her eartips went unnoticed. “Found it when I was cleaning up, actually.”

“‘Found’ it?”

“Oakhill’s got plenty of rooms I haven’t used in decades,” Ella said “Small wonder I’d forget some of them.”

Meline laughed. Ella wondered if she was catching something, with how hot she suddenly felt.

“So tell me something,” Meline said, taking Ella’s arm as they went up the stairs—she really did need to widen these passages.

“If I can.”

“You own an entire arsenal, and I can count on fingers and toes the number of folks I know with more spiritual power than what you showed tonight.”

A light sweat broke out across Ella’s shoulders; she was suddenly glad Meline was not holding her hand. “What was I supposed to tell you?” When an answer was not immediately forthcoming, Ella looked down. “Meline?”

“… We-well, I mean, you slew a demon today, so are you sure—” the laugh bubbled up before Ella could stop it, “I’m serious!”

“I know you are,” Ella said once she mostly had control of herself again. “Why are you a witch?”

That stymied Meline as they continued past the landing to the hall. “I chose to be,” she finally said.

“And I chose not to travel the worlds slaying demons.”

“You’d be good at it, though,” Meline said, “from what I saw.”

Ella glanced at the closed armoury door as they passed it, the torn armour above the shrine flickering through her mind as she placed her foot on the next step back up to the library. “More than any other work,” she said, “you have to want to do it. And more than any other work, Meline, you risk your soul in the doing.”

After a long moment, Meline squeezed her arm. “You had some books you wanted to show me?”

Ella smiled. “Havel’s laying them out now. I believe there were some treatises on the proper collection and storage of sunbeams.”

“Ooh, crystal resonance or golden jar?”

Ella gave her a wink as she pulled open the library door. “Let’s find out.”

#my writing #tlom #tftem #chapter 3 #what we choose for ourselves #three legacies of magic #the fairy tales of ella and meline

0 notes

ellaofoakhill · 3 months ago

Text

The Fairy Tales of Ella and Meline #1: Frog Legs Soup

Meline yawned as she went to get water from the pond. The moon was just rising and she’d just gotten up. Further off in the pasture, the lowing of cows reminded her of the dream she’d had, of a time before she’d left home.

The pond was quiet. The frogs had finished their spring singing, so all Meline could hear were the night sounds: a dog barking far off, the gnats in buzzing clouds overhead, a moth and a bat flitting over the water. The smells of grass and hay and the world breathing put a smile on her face.

As she drew her water, Meline saw a rippling out from the shore. She raised her staff, and asked it and the sand to give light. The staff in her hand and the sand at the edge of the pond glowed green. Meline took a handful of the latter and tossed it at the ripples. As the sand fell through the water, Meline saw a tadpole in the light it cast.

She huddled down at the water’s edge, and the tadpole came to the strand. And then another. And another. Until the shallows around Meline fluttered with them.

“Hello, tadpoles.”

“Hello,” they said at once.

She saw, in the way their tails flipped and their eyes blinked, that something troubled them.

“Have the water fairies been treating you well?”

“Yeah, they keep the water well-stirred.”

“Then why are you sad?”

The tadpoles blew bubbles, and the water trembled as their tails wriggled. “Dad’s gone!” one said. “An’ we don’t know where he is!” Another wailed. “An’ we’re all alone with the fish and the herons an’ things!” A third yelled, and that set the whole litter thrashing and crying.

Meline waved her hand, and a wall of sand kept the water from splashing her. “Where did he go?”

“We don’t know!”

“Did you ask around?”

“Someone said a crane got ‘im!”

“It was a heron!”

“A human!”

Meline put her head in her hand. Well, I know what I’m doing tonight. That’s another grey hair.

Meline heaved a sigh. “Alright, little tadpoles! I don’t know what happened to your dad, but—” she waited until they finished crying, “I’m going to find out, and I’ll see what I can do to help you. Be brave in your pond, and I’ll be back soon.”

Meline collected herself. She walked down the beach and found a stone that jutted out into the water. She walked out to its tip, knelt at the water’s edge, and cupped her hands so they touched the surface of the pond.

“Evelyn! It’s Meline! You busy?”

The water boiled, and a tall, thin fairy with frosty hair and the posture and manner of a well-educated ramrod floated up to stand on the rock with her. “Good evening, Meline.”

Meline took a deep breath. “Is Evelyn there, Vedris? I was hoping she could help me with something.”

“Indeed?” His eyebrow quirked. “Perhaps I could be of some assistance?”

Meline’s smile grew sweeter than a strawberry. “Could you watch three hundred tadpoles until I get back? Their—”

“I’ll fetch Evelyn!” He was gone before his cheeks could pale. Meline almost rolled her eyes.

“My dear husband is many things,” Evelyn said as she rose from the water, her skin lightly mottled pink and red, “but he is terrified of children.”

Meline tilted her head. “He raised five.”

“Ever since he nearly put out little Cedric’s eye with his sabre, he’s stark terrified he’ll hurt them. What was it about tadpoles?”

“Their father’s vanished,” Meline said. The red took over Evelyn’s face. “The rumour is something ate him, but the little ones don’t know.”

“Vedris did mention a crane stalking about the pasture,” Evelyn said, straightening her spectacles as the red faded from her face. “The Accords keep fey safe, but they will eat frogs every now and again.”

Meline groaned. “Well, if he’s dead, then his tadpoles need help. I don’t know about you, but I can’t spend my every waking hour watching three hundred tadpoles for a month or more. It’d kill me.”

“And you’d likely violate the Accords. Vedris would lose all his hair if I even hinted at it for a few reasons,” Evelyn said.

“Then I’m off to see Theo; perhaps he knows how to help.”

“Good luck,” Evelyn straightened a lock of hair. “He has no use at all for children.”

“I’ll be sure to get him a fly,” Meline said. “And you’ll—”

“—Watch the tadpoles.” Evelyn smiled. “We both will. Though Vedris will watch from a distance.” She dipped partway back into the water, the hem of her dress merging with the surface. “Oh, could you wait a moment? I’ve a wild strawberry tart.”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m—”

Meline’s belly decided to rumble.

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“… no.”

Meline munched the tart as she walked. Theo’s woven-grass hut lay just in sight of the fence. Meline knew she lived too close to it, and was glad her door faced east. The moss grew soft under foot, though the spring damp was long past. Meline poked and prodded with her staff, picking her way around any sinkholes.

The hut, on the far side of the pond on the edge of the poplars, was large, but simple, with walls of woven slough grass stems. It kept the worst of the rain off; toads, after all, like the damp, not the wet.

Meline spoke to the ground, and felt her voice carry through it. “You there, Theo?”

A rumbling croak sounded from the bower. A squat shape trundled to the door. “I’m afraid you’ve come at a bad time, Meline,” he said. “I’ve a most unsightly wart.”

You’re a toad! she thought. “Would you like a salve for it?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble. I am dismayed whenever I look in the puddle.”

“I’m afraid it will have to wait.” She lowered her voice. “Could I have your advice?”

Theo blinked as only a toad can. “Ask and I will answer, if I can.”

“What are a tadpole’s odds if her father is gone?”

“Low.” Theo blinked, his eyes bobbing in and out of his head as toads’ eyes do. “Did something happen?”

Meline raised her hands. “The tadpoles at the west end of the pond have recently lost theirs. We’re not sure how.”

“Ah.” Theo cleared his throat. He stood aside. “You’d best come in, then.”

A few fireflies lit the bower. The kitchen was simple, but well-kept, with a passage down to what Meline suspected was Theo’s bedroom. The sitting room was in the back, its walls packed with shelves, the shelves with curiosities and books covered in wax to protect them from the moisture.

Theo pulled a volume off the shelf nearest his desk. “Old Frogger’s Almanac: First Edition,” he proclaimed with something like reverence. H sat at his desk, pulling out a toadstool for Meline, and set a pair of spectacles on his broad nose. “Can I interest you in some cider?”

“Please.”

Theo pulled out a bottle and tumbler. It was spiced differently than the last cider he’d offered her. “Fortunately, Frogger knew his way around an index,” he opened the book, “and a table of contents. Now if I recall…” He chirped, and one of the fireflies flew closer. He tossed it a candy from a jar on his desk. “Hmm… ‘Fiddling with Cricket Legs’, no… ‘Fishing for Mosquito Larvae’ … how he was even allowed to publish that article in the first place I’ve no idea… ‘Growing a Green Moss Carpet’… Ah! Here we are.”

Meline slid her stool closer. Theo turned the book to her. She furrowed her brow. “My kind made this.” She read. It had been a while since she’d looked at the Old Frog script. “‘Frog Legs Soup’.” She continued reading. “This… might work, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Well, as I see it, Theo, I have several options.” She raised a finger. “I can watch over the tadpoles myself.”

“And either work yourself to death trying to keep… how many—”

“Three hundred and six.”

“—three hundred and six tadpoles out of trouble, and either fail, or break the Accords interfering in the affairs of creatures.”

“Yes.” Meline raised a second finger. “I can try searching for their father to find out what happened to him. The Accords will protect me from all but the most base of creatures, and if he’s still alive, he’ll likely need help.”

“Finding him may take days, even if he hasn’t been eaten. During which the little ones will be unattended.”

Meline raised her third finger. “I do nothing.”

“Ha!”

Ha, indeed. “Option four,” she raised her index finger, “I try to get another creature or group of creatures to help.”

Theo shook his head. “Creatures don’t generally think like that, Meline, and again, the time you would spend searching for the frog who’d take those tadpoles in is time during which the tadpoles would be unattended.”

Meline raised her thumb. “Which leaves this option.” She skimmed over the potion once more. “It takes the growth of a month or more and gets it done in a few minutes. It’s pain-free, too, by the look of it.”

Theo shook his head. “I won’t lie, fey magic scares me… how did Frogger get ahold of one of your spells?”

Meline shook her head. “It isn’t against our law for non-fey to know our recipes, but many need magic, many need the skill only a few thousand years of practice can give, and lots of us just plain hold our secrets… well, secret. Any…” Meline blinked at the page. And swore.

“What!” Theo jumped so high he almost hit his own roof.

Meline took a breath. “Theo, potions on Fey never contain iron powder. The law absolutely forbids its mining and use.” Though she had heard of metal fairies and gnomes on Gaea and Nidd quietly experimenting with it.

Theo nodded. “Do you know where to get iron powder?”

Meline chuckled, taking a blank sheet from the desk and copying the recipe. “Ask a fey that and she’ll break your face, Theo. I don’t. Only a metal fairy or gnome can handle iron safely.” She registered his tone of voice. “You know someone?”

“You’ve turned white, Meline.” Theo shrank in his chair.

“Most fey’s skins would pale if you mentioned iron. I’ve told you before how our hides work?”

“Yes yes, yellow for joy, pink for love, orange for excitement, red for anger, purple for—um…” Theo would’ve blushed if he were a beast.

“’Lust’ would be a good word.”

“Yes, thank you, purple for lust, blue for sadness, green for disgust, grey for confusion, and white for fear.”

“So why are you—” she stopped herself before she could ask the question they both knew the answer to. “Don’t listen to every rumour you hear, Theo. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Theo took a moment to uncurl his toes. “Yes. Yes, you’re—quite right.”

“Good. So, you were about to tell me that you knew someone who has iron powder.”

“… Have you ever heard tell of Ella of Oakhill?” Meline shrugged. “She’s some lord over by the house. My cousin didn’t say much about her, when she was over, just that the woman’s a recluse, and perhaps a little mad. Even among fey,” he said, as Meline opened her mouth.

Meline turned in a circle, then shook her head. “No, not ringing any bells.” She looked up at Theo’s clock. “I’d best get going, then, if I’m to make it there before sunrise.”

“You’re going now?”

“Of course. I’ll run home and pack, and see Evelyn on my way.” As she strode to the door she called back, “I’ll make a batch of honeyed bee’s wings for you!”

***

“You’re sure you don’t need another tart?” Evelyn said, looking out over the patch of pond roiling with tadpoles.

“Or perhaps an escort?” Vedris had his back to the pond, and his colour was paler than normal.

“No, no, but thank you,” Meline said, “and Wild Rose is all locked up.”

“I’ve heard tell of snakes up that way,” Vedris’s foot touched the water, and he asked the pond to bring him Anhinga. The water glowed powder blue where he touched.

“And you’ve everything you’ll need for the journey?” Evelyn looked over Meline’s shoulder at her rucksack.

“Of course! Evelyn, I wandered for ages, I know what I’m about. And you know the rumours better than anyone.” She winked. And did not miss the glance they shared, or the soft paling of their cheeks.

Vedris’s hand snatched the sabre and belt that flew out of the water beside him. He held her out to Meline. “An extra protection won’t hurt, surely.”

Meline forced herself not to tuck her hands into her sleeves. “You worry too much, Vedris. I have my staff, and my fists; what more could a girl need?”

He settled the belt running through his sabre’s loops over her shoulder. “Just take her? Please? There’s no telling what a mischievous tadpole might do with Anhinga.” He winked back, but there was an unmistakeable tightness in his smile.

Meline settled the weight on her shoulder. “Alright.”

Evelyn shook her head, aiming a tender smile at the back of her Vedris’s, then stepped forward and gave Meline a hug and a kiss. “Travel wisely and well, then.”

“I will,” Meline said, turning and striding into the grass, “and I’ll tell you just how mad this Lord Ella really is!”

Meline rarely traveled toward the house. Usually she roved through the hazel brush and dogwoods for herbs and pebbles; once a fortnight she’d travel to Oak and Stone for rarer goods. The ground sloped away from the berms around the pond, then steadily rose. When she climbed to the top of a potentilla, Meline could see the yard in the distance, surrounded by maples and pines. In the distance between, the ground softly rolled until it met the human’s tree rows. To her right were the oaks and cairns, to her left the brush and poplar wood. Between her and the yard were many fairy lights, especially about the Party Grounds.

“I’d just as soon travel quickly tonight,” she said to herself, “rather than get bogged down in one talk after another.” She dropped from the potentilla. When her feet touched the ground she drew up her deep-black mantle. Less visible than a shadow’s shadow, she held up her staff, and asked the ground to speed her on her way. The earth beneath her feet woke with a soft green glow. She took a step, and the ground pushed back against her foot, lengthening her stride. Smiling to herself, she continued.

Though the earth did indeed help her, and none saw Meline as she traveled, she caught snippets of conversation, as fey and creatures mingled. Most of it was casual, and Meline forgot it as she passed.

But as she descended the second rise, the snippets grew more interesting. If what she heard was to be believed, Ella was a ghost, an eccentric who ate books and left her oak tree once every thousand years, and a self-styled goddess of nature who had terrified the people into leaving her offerings. Meline was some way from the yard, and knew how stories grew the further they traveled. Still, she kept a firm hand on her staff. Talk of “The Mad Fairy” fell sharply off as she drew closer to the yard; fewer fey and creatures lived there.

The half-moon was setting as the trees about the yard grew taller. Meline was almost to them, breathing more heavily than she liked, when her skin prickled.

There was a fence. Between her and the yard. A fence of iron wire.

Meline saw in her mind’s eye a heron looking out over the pond, at the rippling of anxious tadpoles whose father couldn’t come for them.

Meline drew her mantle tight about her, and asked the ground to shield her. It blazed green, rising about her in a dome of clods of dirt and rock. She continued walking. The green light on the grass ahead began to dim, and she felt the leading edge of her shield start to crumble as the iron tore at the fibre of her magic. Bits fell from her shield, small and slow at first but gaining in size and frequency. Her feet felt when the wire was almost directly overhead, a horrible spasm as if her toes were shrivelling back up into her feet and her feet up into her legs. She managed to totter forward, far enough past the fence she could hardly feel it. She dropped her shield, rubbed some dirt on her hands, shuddered, and kept on.

The trees of the yard were young and tall. One day soon they’d be giants. The trees of Oak and Stone dwarfed them, though. Meline walked to the base of a maple. The sky was starting to brighten. The house was dark against the eastern sky. The whole yard rose up to it. Beyond it was another of the people’s buildings. To Meline’s left were huge panels on metal stands. They reeked of iron and plastic. Beside the house was a single tall oak tree. Did Ella of Oakhill really live there? She must be mad.

Meline realized she was still breathing heavily. She collected her strength, in several long, slow, deep breaths, and pressed on. The moonlight was fading, but the stars were still bright as she crossed to the oak.

A rustle to her left caught her ear. She saw a long shape, low to the ground, moving through the grass. Even at Meline’s best, a garter snake was a huge, dangerous creature. And she was not at her best right now.

Meline waited, hoping the serpent would pass her by, forked tongue rising and falling, light stripes bright against her black armour. She stopped, and lowered her nose, tasting the ground and the air where Meline had walked. Meline held her breath.

The snake slithered in her direction.

Meline ran. If she hadn’t been out running all night, hadn’t just crossed under an iron fence, and had been ten thousand years younger, she might not’ve tripped over the half-buried acorn cap. But she might’ve anyway. Her staff flew out of reach, saying goodbye with a series of soft thumps as it spun end over end through the grass. Meline pulled herself to her feet as the snake drew too close to risk turning her back.

The snake opened her mouth, each dagger-sharp tooth as long as Meline’s finger. Ropes of drool ran from the snake’s lips as she pushed her windpipe forward. The Accords were to some creatures what a gnat was to a bull.

“Snake,” Meline said, hoping the creature couldn’t feel her legs shaking, “I am the Wild Rose. Slither on your merry way, and I won’t knock your head off.” She asked the bones of her hand and arm and shoulder not to break. Their green glow through her skin sputtered against the snake’s glossy hide. She hoped she’d only need one blow, almost wished she had a bottle of tonic with her.

The snake raised her head. “I am Thamnophis,” she said, her eyes huge and black, her mouth opening wider. “You are tired… and I am hungry...”

Figures you’re the only thing in a whole mile that hasn’t heard of me. Meline clapped her hands, a murmured word spreading the power between them. “Alright.”

The snake’s head twitched in surprise. “Al—” The slap had Meline’s hand tingling, but it wasn’t every night you got to see the bones in a snake’s head wobble under their skin like that. It took “Thamnophis” a good long while to pick herself up off the ground. “What…?”

“That was an open hand,” Meline said, clenching her still-glowing right into a fist. “You want the next one…” the snake was already slithering away, “… closed?”

Meline sagged, laughing like a drunk as she flopped down on her back, her hands slapping the ground. “Whew!... Haven’t done that in…” She could feel herself passing out, couldn’t even draw herself together enough to call back to the rough, crackly voice drawing closer. Maybe it was Death? She didn’t think the snake got her, but they could be awfully quick… when they wanted to be…

***

Meline slowly woke to the scratch of quill on parchment, and the rhythmic creak of wood. The tittering of birds came from outside. Her pillow was softer than usual, the sheets smelled of lavender with just a pinch of sage. It was some time before she opened her eyes, and raised herself up on her hands.

Sunlight dappled by oak leaf green poured in through four windows. The room was spare, with a closet at one end, and a sturdy oak door at the other. The quill was deftly wielded by a fairy whose type Meline couldn’t immediately discern. Her blonde hair was tied back, her expression one of calm contentment as she knelt at her low table, her cheeks neutral, save for perhaps a tinge of cheerful yellow.

She looked up when Meline rose. “There’s tea on, if you’d like,” she said.

“I would, but,” Meline said as the fairy rose, “who… did your husband or son rescue me last night?”

The woman’s eyebrow quirked. “If I had either, I’m sure he wouldn’t hesitate to whisk a dusky stranger from the jaws of a garter snake. But as I haven’t, such honour fell to Paracelsus, the cat who lives in the house, and to me. You aren’t the first person to think my voice a little mannish, though.”

Oops. “Oh. Thank you.”

The woman inclined her head. “Lord Ella of Oakhill, at your service. Welcome to my humble hall.” Ella raised an inviting hand. “Join me?”

Meline belatedly realized she’d just been made a minor guest in this woman’s home. She all but sprang to her feet and bustled around the bed to sit opposite Lord Ella. “I am honoured to be so welcomed.” She spent a quick moment automatically patting herself. “I am afraid I have no gifts to offer.”

Ella stoppered her ink well, cleaned her quill—a junco feather, by the look of it—rose, gestured for Meline to remain seated, and took her writing supplies and parchment to a desk by the far left window. She returned with Meline’s staff in one hand, and Anhinga in the other.

“As a gift,” she said, “I would ask whose masterful hands made these. But that can wait until I return with food and drink. You’ve slept most of the day away, so I imagine you’re a shade peckish.”

“Not at—” Her belly cut her off with a growl. Miss two meals and you just can’t shut up, can you? “Please and thank you.” She bowed her head. “M-Meline, is my name,” she said, “of Wild Rose. On the other side of the pasture.”

Ella’s cheeks showed no sudden change of colour, save perhaps a slight yellowing. “Then allow me a moment to fetch tea and provender, Meline of Wild Rose.” Ella bowed once more, then strode to and through the door with the grace of a cat. Meline heard footsteps descending stairs, and she was alone.

“She either hasn’t heard the rumours,” Meline said to no one in particular, “or she’s very good at hiding her feelings.” She checked herself for injuries; venom was no laughing matter.

Once assured she was unharmed—a few dressed scrapes, probably from her fall, but no bites, and she was hardly sore at all—Meline started to take in the room properly, and realized the floor had a sway to it, like they were on water. Was she up in a tree? She went to the windows.

She was up in a tree.

Each south-facing window had thick shutters. The twittering came from a goldfinch’s nest a branch away. The house—Meline’s breath caught in her throat—was disturbingly close. As she looked, the door opened, and a human came out. Meline shrank back.

“They can’t see us.” Meline jumped as Ella stepped into the room with a tray bearing a teapot, two cups, and some toast and jam. “We’re hidden by a thick canopy of leaves. And besides,” Ella began laying out her spread, “humans are notoriously awful at seeing what they don’t expect to.”

“True.” Meline flushed as her stomach rumbled. “Thank you.”

“The fare’s a bit plain, I know,” Ella said, “I don’t have many guests.”

“I’m sure it tastes delicious.” Ella had brought up two chairs as well, and a folding table. As they sat, Meline became conscious that Ella was taller than her by about three eighths of an inch, and built like a bull. Judging by her wrinkles, she also smiled with her eyes.

The bread crust was crisp, the inside warm and moist, and the saskatoon jam was indeed delicious. The tea was rosehips and honey; a joke on Meline’s name? Or was Ella hinting she knew more than she let on?

“Did you put willow bark in this?” Meline asked as she took a sip.

“It’s mainly rosehips,” Ella said, “but yes. You looked like you’d had a rough night.”

Didn’t even crack my bottom nine. “I made the staff myself, by the by.”

Ella gave her a quizzical look. “Oh. I had thought you were an earth fairy, though.”

“I am.”

“Then you’re the finest woodcarver I know.”

“I doubt that very much.”

Ella gave her a half-skeptical look. “Then how…?”

“Have you never been to Oak and Stone?”

“Where?”

Meline blinked. Ella’s expression looked too unguarded for it to be a lie. “They grow wood there you can mould with water and your bare hands, and once you cure it, it partially petrifies.”

Ella’s eyebrows flicked halfway up her forehead. “Fascinating. And Anhinga?”

“My friend lent her to me.” Her eyes swept over the white lilies dotting the sword’s scabbard, framing the letters of her name. “He had her reforged after she broke during the war.”

Ella’s eyebrows rose higher. “Ah. Out of sentimental value, then?”

Meline shook her head, taking a slice of toast. “His wife had her repaired, as opposed to keeping a broken sword around for nostalgia’s sake.”

“I hope she phrased it less harshly to him than that.”

Meline half-smiled “She was the one who broke it.”

Ella barked a laugh. “That sounds like a story!”

Meline dismissively waved her hand. “Maybe another time.” She swallowed. “I should explain why I’m here…”

Ella held up a hand. “Eat and drink first. You are my guest, and under my protection.”

Meline shook her head. “It’s a matter of some urgency, and has waited long enough.” She set down her cup. “I am here to request some iron powder of you.” Ella’s mouth dropped open. Meline tried to ignore her burning face. “Look, I’m not trying to poison anyone!”

Ella’s face was golden, and her ear tips couldn’t point much higher. “Pay me no mind.” At least she’s not howling with laughter. “It was just a bit unexpected.”

Meline waited while she recovered. “Now,” Ella cleared her throat, “you were saying?”

“A frog is probably dead, his tadpoles are fatherless, I need to make a potion so they can grow legs in one night, and the key ingredient in that potion is iron powder. Is that sufficient reason?”

Ella’s colour vanished. “That would explain your coming so far.” She looked down at her cup, her finger tapping it while Meline ate. “I have conditions you must agree to before I give you iron.” She held up a finger. “First, you must help me make the powder.” Meline blanched. “I have protective equipment. Use it properly, and no harm at all will come to you.”

Meline gulped. “Very well. I agree.”

Ella held up a second finger. “Second. While we are making the powder, you must follow my directions to the letter. I am a metal fairy; iron has no power over me. My directions will keep you safe, and speed the process of making.”

Meline nodded. “I agree.” She would have been happy to stay out of the process entirely, but safety measures were reassuring.

“Third,” Meline thought she saw the ghost of a smile cross Ella’s face, “I will personally escort you home, see how you use it, and bring back any extra you might have.”

“What!”

“You seem the opposite of murderous,” Ella’s tone was bedrock, “and despite tangling with Thamnophis, you don’t seem suicidal. But I met you last night, and have not seen how capable you are. So,” she took a sip of tea, “I will escort you home, and I will help you make this potion. That is my third and final condition. Do you accept?”

Meline took a deep breath. The idea of someone overseeing her work in her own home galled. But her pride was not an ingredient in Frog Legs Soup. “I accept.”

“Good.” Ella looked out the window. “It’s late afternoon now. When would you like to start?”

“This morning.”

Ella smiled. “I have a few things to arrange in my shop. I’ll escort you to the bath, where you can wash up in the meantime.”

Meline realized only then she was filthy with dirt and grass stains. “That would be lovely.”

***

Ella had struck Meline so far as living, for the most part, a simple life, so the fact that Oakhill had an entire, albeit small spa was—well it sure was something. The whole room was lined with brick and tile. A pump sat by the sink, with a broad hose running to a series of bronze and granite tubs long enough to fit an elf. In the corner was a bronze stove, and a side room was filled with split twigs.

“Pull the cord in the corner there,” Ella gestured to a red rope by the door, “if you need anything at all.” She was gone down the stairs before Meline could thank her.

The water was blissfully warm, and the lavender soap—come to think of it, Ella herself smelled of lavender—made Meline feel like the Fey Queen. She scrubbed, and lathered, and scrubbed again.

Trying to be quick and knowing she was taking too long, Meline dried herself off and drained the tub. On top of her clothes was a crisply folded linen shift that felt heavenly on her clean skin, even if it was broad in the shoulders.

After barely managing to braid her hair into line—the tight curls reasserted themselves with disturbing speed whatever she did, and her straightening bronze was at home—she pulled the rope, and Ella came up shortly thereafter. “Ready?” She was wearing a light sleeveless shirt black with grime.

Ella’s shop was a room of formerly whitewashed brick dug into the earth, with mirrored lamps hanging from the ceiling. Meline was not familiar with metalworking, but she recognized the hammer and anvil and a few tools, like the grinding wheel at the far end. Before Meline could enter Ella blocked her path. In one hand she held a set of coveralls made of what looked like sand, in the other a helmet with a glass mask. On the bench next to her were boots and gloves of the same material as the coveralls.

“Here is the protective equipment you’ll need.” Meline began to put them on. “The coveralls, gloves, boots, and helmet are stonemail, pieces of rock glued to fabric. They’ll block the effects of the iron. You’d have to be swimming in it before you’d feel anything. They’re all heavy, and you’ll be sweating like a guilty rat before you’ve worn them half an hour.” Meline stared at the fabric and wondered that no one else had ever thought of it. But then, humans had only been using iron for three thousand years or so.

“The helmet has a glass visor, and two patches of cloth that let air in while straining out iron dust, so you don’t get it in your lungs.” While Meline dressed, Ella tied a rag over her own

hair and a damp cloth over her mouth and ears. She wore goggles over her eyes, and put on a thick apron over her clothes—was it snakeskin? That needed special curing immediately after it was shed. She motioned for Meline to follow her.

“Now, I’ll handle the iron itself,” she said. “You needed how much?”

“Three tenths of an ounce.”

“You’re a bit muffled.” Ella put a hand to her ear.

“Three tenths of an ounce! It should make enough potion for each tadpole.”

Ella whistled. “Alright, this should take… One hour? Maybe two, depending on how good we are.” She picked up a dark grey metal bar as big around as her forearm and as long as her leg. She heaved it onto a bigger scale than Meline had seen in a while, and started adding copper squares to the other side. “Okay, so that’s… one twentieth… a tenth…” As Ella measured the amount, Meline realized that, while her stomach was tight knowing she was barely an arm’s length from a leg-sized chunk of iron, she otherwise felt fine. When she was sure Ella wasn’t looking, she took off one glove. All the muscles in her hand cramped up, and her skin burned. With the glove back on, the feeling vanished. She breathed a sigh of relief. Yet Ella was touching the iron with her bare skin, and had been for millennia, and she still moved with easy grace.

It took another bar half as long as the first before they had three tenths. Ella threw the big piece over her shoulder, and took the other under one arm. She motioned for Meline to follow her to the back of the shop. “The task itself is quite simple,” Ella said, “just time-consuming. We’re going to clamp these bad boys,” She hefted the long piece into a waist-high trough with a clank, “in here, and then you,” she set the smaller piece on the ground, “are going to turn the crank that feeds them into the grinding wheel. Meanwhile, I,” she turned a crank, and two bronze plates clamped the iron bar, “am going to power the wheel, which will grind the iron and spit the powder into the waste pail underneath.” She gestured for Meline to follow her.

At the end of the trough opposite the grinding wheel was a cog with a long handle attached to it. “You’re going to turn this until we’re done, or I tell you to stop. Turn clockwise and it’ll feed forward, counter-clockwise for backward. Turn slow and steady. Too fast and you’ll jam the grinding wheel and break it.” Ella chuckled. “My apprentice did that once. The only one madder than me about it was him.” She turned to Meline. “I’ll be turning the grinding wheel. If I gesture for you to stop, you stop immediately, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Tell me back what we’re doing, beginning to end.” She must’ve noticed Meline’s quizzical expression through the face plate. “I want to make sure you know what’s going on. I know my voice isn’t the loveliest to listen to.”

“Sounds nice enough when you’re half-conscious, though.” Why did I say that?

Ella laughed. “Thank you. Anyway, tell me back.” Meline did, and Ella gave a nod of satisfaction. “Good. I’ll signal you when I’m ready.”

A short while ago, Meline had seen a human on an iron contraption with two wheels, that moved quickly without the person’s feet touching the ground or a horse to pull it. Ella had rigged up something similar, and was using the wheel of the thing to turn a bar attached to the grinding wheel, which, after Ella jumped in the seat and started pedalling, was turning faster than Meline’s eyes could see. Meline rubbed her hands, grabbed the handle, and started turning.

Ella hadn’t been lying about the stonemail. It wasn’t long before Meline was sweating, and the iron hardly moved with each turn of the crank. Ella had taken the hard part for herself, her legs pumping as they spun the pedals that turned the contraption’s wheel, yet she didn’t seem to be breathing hard, even with a sheen of sweat on her arms and shoulders.

Some undefined amount of time later— after Meline’s arms learned what pulverized acorn felt like—Ella held up a hand, and Meline stopped turning. Ella got off the contraption, and turned the cranks clamping the iron in place. She set aside a nub smaller than her fist and clamped the other piece in place before pedalling again, then gestured for Meline to resume.

Meline did plenty of puttering around in the course of a night, but she was used to doing it with her feet. Now, however long they’d been at this, she wasn’t fighting her own impatience so much as her desire to lay down forever on a block of ice. Her arms were just… so tired…

She almost missed Ella’s wave. She jerked back, and the crank halted.

“That was good work,” Ella said as she walked over for a congratulatory arm clasp. Meline failed to raise her arms. “Ah.” Ella took Meline over to the shop entrance. Meline could hardly take her helmet off, so Ella did.

Meline was also too tired to follow her impulse to jump when Ella pressed one hand to Meline’s cheek. “Need some water?” Meline nodded. “Tilt your head back a bit.” Meline obeyed, and Ella tipped the mouth of a small jug into Meline’s open mouth. After Meline had taken several blessedly cold mouthfuls, Ella stopped. “Keep your arms moving slowly and gently,” she said, “while I go bag that iron powder.”

“Sure.” As if I can move them any other way!

Ella returned with a hefty sack. “It’s made of double-thick stonemail, so the iron won’t harm you. It is quite heavy, though. Now,” she set the bag down and stripped off her own protective equipment and helped Meline do the same, “Let me see to those arms.”

“We really should get going, though.”

Ella arched her eyebrows and smirked. “Take this.” she gave Meline the water jug; Meline realized with a grimace that she currently needed two hands just to hold it. “In three breaths, I’m going to tweak your left ear. If you can stop me—”

“Alright, but please make this quick.”

“Of course,” Ella said, taking the water jug back and setting it smoothly down, Meline noticed, with one pinky.

Ella led Meline back up the stairs to a small room just off the kitchen. The walls were lined with cupboards, and there was a low table to one side.

“Welcome to my infirmary,” Ella said as she pulled a bottle out of the top drawer of the nearest counter. She took some sheets and towels out of a cupboard above the sink, and arranged them on the table.

Despite her fatigue, Meline looked around with renewed interest. If only her arms weren’t too weak to start opening drawers and cupboards…

“May I loosen up your arms, chest and back?” Ella said, emptying some oil onto her hands and rubbing them together.

“Please do,” Meline said, stripping to the waist, lying on the table and pulling the sheets over her. She’d learned these particular healing arts long ago.

Ella’s touch was strong, and a shade rough, but not forceful. Meline quickly relaxed into it. The muscle of her chest, knotted like an oak burl, loosened under the long, fluid strokes of Ella’s hands. Her arms and back, when Ella got to them, yielded as she worked, flushing the stiffness and ache away.

Ella then took Meline through a few stretches, and the muscle set itself in a healthier place.

“There’s a good chance you’ll be sore the next few nights,” Ella said as she washed her hands and Meline got off the table, “but if you do some of those stretches and a bit of moving around, it shouldn’t be too bad. And drink lots of water.”

“Thank you,” Meline said.

“Thank you,” Ella said. “We ground an extra twentieth of an ounce. I can bring it back here if it turns out you don’t need it.”

A thought occurred to Meline. “What time is it?”

Ella screwed up her mouth while she dried her hands. “Somewhere after moonrise, I think. We should be back at your Wild Rose before the night’s half-gone.”

Meline’s jaw dropped. “How fast do you think I can run?”

Ella greyed with confusion, then burst out laughing. “Come, gather your things. I’ll show you my stable.”

***

Meline hadn’t seen a fairy horse in two thousand years. This stallion’s hide rippled with colour, turning mainly yellow once the door banged shut and he saw Ella. He was well-muscled, and he stood evenly on his six strong legs. He must’ve been a full palm at the shoulder. His curved, spiralling horn was a glossy white.

“Coarser,” Ella said, using a voice Meline saved for small children, “Mumma’s here!” He sauntered over and she started rubbing him all over. “Who’s a good boy?”

Coarser’s nicker sounded suspiciously like “I are!”

“Yes you are!”

Meline shoved a knuckle in her mouth, and her laugh stayed put.

Ella gave him a thorough onceover. “Good good, you’re standing firmly on your middle left foot now.” she slapped his hindquarters, and he turned in a circle. He saw Meline and clip-clopped toward her as Ella grabbed saddle and tack from where they hung on the wall, and several large pieces of cloth. Now he was so close, Meline could see his arms were long and graceful, his gripping fingers thick and strong, and his scissor-fingers keen-edged.

“He’s quite safe,” Ella said as she returned. “Unless you get between him and an apple slice.”

Meline tentatively held out a hand. Coarser took a step forward and back, gave her hand a quick taste, and snorted, his hide now a mix of grey and yellow, with a hint of pink swirled in. His hot breath smelled of hay and honey and nutmeg. He shoved his muzzle into Meline’s hand, and with a smile on her face she petted him. Ella handed her a brush, and she scrubbed his rough hide while Ella saddled him.

Ella put on his blanket and the cloth, which was stonemail, and his saddle. She took a cloak from the wall, along with the bag of iron powder. “Put this on,” she said as she handed the cloak to Meline. It was also stonemail. “It should protect you from the worst of the fence.”

Ella threw the bag of iron powder over Coarser’s shoulders, and cupped her hands so Meline could climb up.

“Can he handle all this?” Meline asked as she settled herself in the saddle. Coarser huffed, reached back and gently poked her with a finger, then stomped with all six hooves. “Nevermind.”

Ella snorted. “He likes you already.” She vaulted into the saddle behind Meline. She’d changed into a green gambeson with a white oak tree on a hill blazoned on the chest. A sword was slung across her back, and a silver horn hung on a strap around her neck. Over her shoulders went a long cloak of silver scales. “But then he is a clever boy.” Said clever boy pranced on the spot.

“That she-snake…” Meline said.

Ella snorted again. “If Tham is wise, she won’t show her hide this side of my fence until she sheds it. Now…” The stable doors were open, the evening sky lit with the sun’s afterglow. “Will you use your magic to speed us on our way? Or do you need it for the potion?”

“I’ll likely need it; it’s a complex potion I’ve never made before, and I need to be certain the ingredients combine properly.”

Ella leaned forward in the saddle, pushing against Meline. “Then let’s be off!” She whistled, high and fierce, as Coarser sprang forward. They were flying across the yard before its echo faded.

The wind was up, out of the west, and Meline could see iron-grey thunderheads above the pines. Not a good sign, she thought to herself. Sheet lightning crackled through them, and thunder was dull on the air, though still mercifully far-off.

In a few heartbeats, they were at the fence. Meline pulled up the hood of her cloak and lowered her head. She felt an oppressive weight, and her head, hands, and calves throbbed. Even Coarser seemed to slow.

And then it was fading behind them.

Meline felt Ella straighten in the saddle behind her, and turned her head. Ella raised the horn to her lips and blew. The air rippled, the wind about them calmed, and the voice of the horn, low and beautiful, carried far longer than it should. Coarser raised his head and roared, and his body, flashing orange and gold, stretched out beneath them.

Gradually the wind returned, and the storm began in earnest. Slowly at first, a drop here, a drop there. Then a bolt cracked the earth and shook the air, and the rain began to pour.

Anyone believing a heavy rain is nothing serious has never been three inches high. Before more than two or three drops struck Meline’s back like mallets, she heard a rippling of metal, and the night brightened as a golden veil stretched over them, the rain rattling off it. When Meline looked back, Ella’s cloak was no longer about her shoulders. “Thank you!” she hollered over the storm, but she wasn’t sure Ella heard.

In what seemed both a long time and a very short time, they crested the final rise. Meline saw the berms either side of the pond, and then her own wild rose.

“Coarser!” she called, and pointed. Coarser turned, and Meline felt her heart lighten as they pelted for home.

Coarser slowed as they drew close, and then the boughs of Wild Rose were over them. Ella was off Coarser in a moment, unspeaking her word and collecting her cloak. When Meline tried to dismount, her legs wobbled.

“Coarser, could you sit please?” Ella said. At once, Coarser lowered himself so his belly was touching the ground, and Meline would’ve flopped out of the saddle if Ella hadn’t caught her.

“Thanks again,” Meline said as she struggled to her feet. “I’m not the fairy I once was.”

Ella took Meline’s arm over her shoulder, chuckling the whole time, and helped Meline to her door. Meline fumbled for her fairy key while Ella called Coarser over.

In a moment, the door was open. “Sorry for the mess,” Meline said. She paused to touch the nearest lamp and ask it for light. It and the others around the kitchen obliged, bathing the room in a bright green glow.

Wild Rose was a simple, if sturdy house. The kitchen and dining area were a single space split by a long counter. One wall was books, another was cupboards, shelves, and drawers. The table further from the door was her worktable, with a large bronze cauldron set in the floor, and a stove against the wall. One door led to her root cellar, another to her sitting room. To the right was a stairway leading up to her bedroom.

Meline undid the clasp of her cloak, and hung it on a hook. “I’ll be down in a moment with dry things.” Now she was home, Meline felt the potioneer in her quicken.

She was up the stairs, changed, and down again with dry clothes for Ella, and towels for the three of them. “Don’t eat those,” Meline said as Coarser sniffed at dried dogwood berries hanging from the ceiling. He jerked his muzzle back like he’d been stung, a quick flash of white splashing across his hide. His horn banged against the rooftree. “Not poisonous, but I need them.”

“How can I help?” Ella said as she took the towel Meline offered her.

“For now, get yourselves dry and get changed,” Meline said, “this poor floor is warped enough. I’ll get a fire going so our clothes can dry.”

She took a small crock from beside the fireplace, and lifted the lid. A fist-sized coal smoked inside, giving off a faint red glow. Satisfied, she went around to her back door, and grabbed wood slivers, grass fibres, and bird down. She piled it all in the fireplace, then took the cup and set the coal on the kindling. She knelt, took a deep breath, and blew a warm, gentle breath over the coal. It glowed brighter. One more breath, and it caught. Meline added larger and larger twigs, splinters, and grass blades, until she had a healthy blaze going.

“We’re pretty well dry,” Ella said. Meline turned around. Her undershirt was definitely too tight across Ella’s shoulders.

“Right, if you could get the clothes and towels hanging over the fire, I can organize things for the potion.”

Meline took out bowls, cups, spoons, knives, scissors, mortar and pestle, and her old rowan cutting board. She grabbed waxing gibbous moonbeams, flour from lily seeds, horsetail stems, water strider hairs, boatman’s eyes, sand, and a stale mosquito egg.

“Clothes are up and drying,” Ella said.

Meline glanced over the fireplace. Nothing was hanging so low as to burn, and the lines and pins were properly secured. “Good.” She grabbed Old Frogger’s Almanac. “Take the thimble by the cellar door and fill the cauldron up to the top mark with water from the cistern.” The rain striking the roof and walls meant Meline wouldn’t have to draw water from the pond after all. Ella’s footsteps hesitated only long enough to get her bearings.

Meline began prepping ingredients. As her hands began the familiar chopping, cutting, and pulverizing, she drifted into her work.

She startled when the first thimble of water sloshed into the cauldron. Ella was already turning away, but Meline swore she saw a fleeting smile and a hint of yellow on Ella’s face.

Meline thinly sliced the moonbeams lengthwise, and pulverized the horsetail stems. She cut the hairs crosswise, and squeezed the eyes for their jelly. She shook the egg nine times, and mixed it with the flour and jelly. She added them and the sand to the cauldron, took out her nephrite paddle, and stirred. As Ella added a last thimble of water, Meline held up a hand, whispering to the potion. She stopped stirring, and passed the paddle to Ella. “Three counter-clockwise stirs to nine clockwise,” she said. She put a wet mask over her mouth, and a mask over her face. She put on the cloak Ella had lent her, though backwards, and tied it back with string, like an apron. She put on a pair of thick gloves, and motioned for the paddle back. Ella gave it, and as Meline stirred she said, “Put a mask over your mouth. Go measure the iron powder. Empty the cups into the cauldron at a slow, steady pour.”

Meline tried to ignore the iron as Ella tipped it into the cauldron. Three counter-clockwise, nine clockwise. Her arms burned and cramped, but she refused to stop stirring. Three counter-clockwise, nine clockwise. Ella kept pouring in a steady stream, the powder fine as flour, but so heavy it left hardly a cloud. Three counter-clockwise, nine clockwise.

Meline didn’t remember when she began to sing, the tune so old it might well be older than words.

She hardly noticed the crystals brighten, or the iron sickness fading from her bones. All she saw was the steady ebb and flow of the potion, and the gentlest green light as it began to glow. Sparks danced in it, ignited by the song, in time with the rise and fall of Meline’s voice.

When her arms could stir no more, and she could sing no more, Meline stopped, hanging for a moment over the cauldron before she sagged backward.

Done.

***

It was with profound relief that Meline helped the last tadpole drink his dollop of Frog Legs Soup; safety of the tadpoles aside, her arms were well and truly dead even after the nap she’d taken after she finished the potion.

The tadpole shivered. “I feel kinda… itchy,” he said as bumps erupted either side of his tail.

“Based on your sisters and brothers,” Evelyn said, holding the cauldron steady while the pond water she’d asked to clean it went to work, “that’s pretty normal.”

Long web-toed feet and legs swelled from the bumps as the tadpole’s tail shrank, and bumps for little arms began to grow. And he began to laugh. “It’s all tickly!”

“I would imagine,” Meline said, stifling a yawn. “Now remember, you need to eat lots over the next few weeks, since we got all your changing done in one night.”

“I will,” the tadpole said, trying to gather all the leg he hadn’t had a few minutes ago under him, “and I’ll bring you lots, too!”

“Your siblings are bringing lots already, you don’t have to.”

“But I wanna! And you almost got eaten by a snake! So thanks!” Finally with his legs under him, he began hopping away, the rest of his brothers and sisters mostly gone over the lip of the berm.

“You can share with us, if you like,” Evelyn said, cleaning her spoon one last time.

“Yeah, I don’t think I need half the food they’ve promised me.” Meline straightened her dress. “Breakfast tomorrow, then?”

Evelyn ducked her head and smiled. “Of course. And you can fill us in on your adventure.”

Meline inwardly cringed, though she supposed nearly being eaten by a snake might soften her image a shade. She just wouldn’t mention the slap. She looked around for Ella; she’d been talking with Vedris, watching the tadpoles go on their way just a—

“Glad it worked.”

Meline jumped. That Ella had snuck up behind her was… impressive, in its own way. “Yes.” Meline tried to keep her expression neutrally pleased.“I suppose you’ll be heading home now?”

“My apprentice will be by early tomorrow evening, and he shouldn’t work unsupervised in the shop.”

“No, I suppose not. How old is he?”

“Six thousand, give or take.”

“Ah, so young,” Vedris said, striding past on Ella’s right. “Did he approach you, or you him?”

“Him to me,” Ella said. “Don’t tell him I said so, but he’s proven himself everything I could want in a student. Diligent, passionate about his craft, and gentle as a sleeping dormouse.” Ella coloured pink about her ears and neck, and even if she hadn’t, the matronly affection in her smile was obvious.

“A winning combination.” Meline pulled her finger out of the hair she’d twirled about it. “Thank you for your help in this.”

Ella bowed. “I couldn’t say no to a bunch of children who just lost their parent.”

“All the same, would you like to visit Oak and Stone together?” Right, frame it as if you’re paying her back, and it won’t seem weird. “My treat.”

Ella’s brow furrowed. “Where?”

“I… Oak and Stone.” Meline exchanged glances with Evelyn and Vedris. Vedris looked as baffled at someone not knowing of the town as Meline felt. Evelyn simply gave Meline a look that said she knew altogether too much. “It’s a town.” Meline pointed in its general direction. “Hidden in the cairns there.”

Ella followed Meline’s gesture, her eyebrows almost meeting. “Oh, right, you mentioned it before! Must be a small town, then.”

She really hasn’t been. “Bigger than you’d think. Anyway, consider my invitation? You’ve got to be going, probably.”

Ella gave herself a little shake. “Yes, I suppose I must. Evelyn, Vedris of Pondside.” She gave them a bow, which they returned. “And until we meet again, Meline of Wild Rose.”

Meline tried not to think too much about the roughened calluses on Ella’s hand as she took Meline’s and placed a quick, soft kiss on the back, and hoped her feelings weren’t showing as Ella smiled and strolled to Coarser, carefree as a bumblebee.

Meline watched until they were lost in the potentillas.

“She seems a far more decent sort than the rumours suggest,” Evelyn said.

Meline ignored the knowing tone of Evelyn’s voice. “Yes,” she said, taking a breath and turning to take her cauldron and things back home, “I guess she is.”

---

The next story, Oak and Stone, is currently in early access for $5, if you wanna read that, too.

---

If you liked this, you can also read this post and the rest of The Fairy Tales of Ella and Meline that has been published to date over on my patreon. If you like what you read, consider becoming a patron, supporting me on ko-fi, or even just liking and reblogging.

Thank you, and take care!

#my writing #fantasy writing #three legacies of magic #tlom #the fairy tales of ella and meline #tftem #1: frog legs soup #lgbtqia+

0 notes