#tftem | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellaofoakhill · 2 years

Text

How Far We Must Go And Have Come

“Your friend Valdr’s another of the Great Sage’s students?” Ansli asked as they pulled into a clearing off the road.

“Yes, Master. He’s already paid his respects,” Ella said, unhitching Coarser. He shook himself, and strode to the succulent grass about the clearing’s edge.

“I see.”

“You really taught Elmum all her fightin’ stuff?” Selva said as she clambered from the front seat. Meline smiled; she’d been shy at first, but Ansli’s undemanding presence quickly drew Selva back out of her shell.

“Enough to get her started,” Ansli said, taking a small package of incense. “Two thousand years as my live-in student, two thousand more of us wandering together before she struck out on her own.”

“Was she the best student you ever had?”

Meline looked around. Ansli’s eyebrows almost met her hairline. Ella dropped the tarp; she was clearly trying not to laugh. And got a sharp poke in the side. “What have you been telling this little girl?”

“Children sometimes reach wild conclusions, Master!” Ella said, massaging her ribs. She turned to Selva. “I am nowhere near Master’s best student, Selv. In fact, she may have chased me away once or twice.”

Selva looked shocked. A light blinked on. “Elmum, did you ever chase Havel away?”

Ella did laugh that time. And got poked for it. “I should say not,” Ella leaned over to pick the tarp back up and murmured, “Havel’s a good student.”

“Yeah he is!” Selva said. Meline smiled as Havel came out of the wagon with one end of the tent canvas under his arm. By the colour of his ears, he’d overheard. Vaness came out holding the other end. Her grin said she had too.

“Shall we set up camp first, Master? Grandmaster?” Havel said.

“If you handle making camp,” Ansli said, turning to Ella, “Meline and I will arrange the shrine.” Wait, what?

Ella’s eyebrows flicked up as she bowed. “As you wish, Master.”

And so Meline followed Ansli up to the shrine, carrying half the accoutrements while Ansli carried the other. What was this about? They’d no chance to talk before the wedding, and so far as Ella was concerned this woman was her second mother. Maybe this was an interview of sorts? An interrogation? Meline strangled the latter thought.

The shrine to the Great Sage was a colossal mound, dwarfing Celia’s. Five araucarias grew from its flat top, keeping the mound in twilight even on the brightest summer day. Each was over a million years old. Ringing the mound were their smaller cousins, and mossy standing stones. Trees and stones softly glowed with the countless glyphs carved into them. At the base of the mound were other stones. Puny next to the mound, each was three times Havel’s height, and had a recessed niche. Before each stone was a pedestal covered with offerings: a few coins, gems, some food. Walking sunwise, they came to a blank stone. Ansli began arranging offerings while Meline set up a small awning.

“Did something happen recently?”

Meline paused in tying down one corner of the awning. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Ansli had the plates arranged in the pentagram. “You are not the same young woman who married my Ella.”

Meline snorted. “Young, Master Ansli?”

“You only have some grey in your hair.” Ansli ran a hand over her silver bun. “But even my rheumy eyes see you are both more and less turbulent than you were.”

Meline tilted her head, resumed tying. “Turbulent?”

“To anyone knowing what to look for, you clearly thought Ella above you. The idea of anyone else having a romantic history with her would’ve upset you. Am I wrong?”

Meline moved to the next pole, and continued tying. “No, you’re not.”

“But you merely laughed when I mentioned that very thing at the inn.”

“Were you testing me?” Meline looked over. Ansli was laying out the grain.

She shook her head. “I was testing my insight. Intelligence isn’t knowing the right answer, but how to find it. And when that woman propositioned Ella—”

“Thank you for interrupting that, by the way.”

“I thought it better than you starting a brawl.” Meline smiled. “Can I guess that your reaction was spurred by concern, rather than jealousy?”

Meline’s hands kept tying while she thought about that. Ella’s desperate “No” had driven everything else from Meline’s mind. If she’d been motivated by jealousy, surely an attractive elf fawning over her wife would’ve driven her forward. “That’d be about right.”

Ansli had laid out emeralds and turquoise and chrysoprase, and was laying out granular gold. “Would it be true to say that you are acting now out of compassion, where before you acted more out of fear?”

Meline moved to the next pole. “I suppose.”

“Then you have grown.” Ansli’s back was to her, but Meline thought she was smiling. “Rather, you are in a state of growth.” Ansli laid a brick of soap on the fourth plate. “The crossing can be traumatic. Guardians know our sickening wounds, and often strip away the poorly healed scars above them.”

Ansli turned her head. Her silver eye glowed in the dark, but her true eye genially met Meline’s. “I am not your teacher, and so have no authority over you. If you would, though, I’ve a thought for your reflection.” She laid a wild rose on the fifth plate.

“What is it?” Meline asked as she moved to the final pole.

Ansli smiled. “There is someone important in your life, with whom you are very close, whom you neither love nor live for.”

Meline looked pensive when she returned. Her greeting kiss felt more perfunctory than usual. She did not seem upset, though Ella cast an enquiring glance at her master. She got a mysterious smile and a wink.

Meline and Vaness stayed at the campsite with Coarser, Vernon, Vesi, and Owen.

“This is way bigger than the wedding mound!” Selva was closer to whispering than she had been in a long time, looking up at the shrine.

“And much older.” Master led the way. “A dozen generations of elves have entered and left the worlds between the raising of this mound and now.”

“Whoa.” Selva held the hem of Ella’s bliaut. “How long’s that?”

“Over a million years,” Ella said. Everyone was hushed. The sigils at the inn were nothing; this place all but sang with spiritual power. Tarklafer would’ve vaporized in an instant if he’d dared set foot here.

“The Great Sage was a walker like Felix, right?”

“That’s right,” Ella said, “though the Great Sage has a lineage, where Felix has received teachings, but mostly travels.”

“What’s a lineage?”

“It means a teacher has passed a collection of lessons to students for more than three unbroken generations. In the case of the Great Sage Beyond the Moon, the earliest fey writings we understand already mention their lineage, so it’s at least eight hundred thousand years old. This shrine strongly implies it’s even older.”

“Oh.” Selva looked up at the araucarias. “That’s really old.”

Ella mussed Selva’s hair. “Yes, it is.”

She glanced over her shoulder. Havel quietly brought up the rear. Did he look just… a bit sad? He had never—Ella almost stopped walking.

She had never fulfilled her promise to introduce him to the Great Sage. And never would.

There was no way to know they would die before this trip. The Great Sage’s constitution had been fragile for centuries, and they were ancient by the standards of gremlins. But they had seemed as much a part of the world as the hills and the sky. For them to die…

Ella stifled a self-deprecating snort. For them to die was an inevitable fact of their birth.

They sat in a close square under the awning. Ella lit the incense and lamps. Master led the chant. Ella was the only other who really knew it; Havel and Selva followed as best they could.

She had been so impatient and so grief-stricken, the night they had given her the task of the copper ore. Her first teaching on impermanence. That lesson had taken so long for Ella to understand, because… she laughed to herself.

Because she had not wanted to hear it. She ploughed through every task they set for her, every single one meeting with frustration.

It was after dawn. Ella numbly heard their footsteps behind her. Valdr was pursuing his spiritual practice at his home, while Ella was still here. It was a bit lonely now, without him; their little chats at meals—few words were spoken, but more from care than taciturnity—were fewer and quieter. Tonight, Ella’s task was to disassemble and reassemble the broken fragments of a plate precisely the same way every time. As before, she strove her best, and at first thought she was finally accomplishing her task, patient and mindful. That belief shattered the moment she saw the finest chip of glaze on the ground, and the slightest crumble of clay from one of her pieces. She had almost thrown the sherd off the cliff. Still trembling with white-hot caustic fury, she instead let it fall through her fingers.

They had knelt beside her. Other times, their presence had been a heavenly balm on burnt skin. That night it felt like a slap across the face.

“What are you trying to teach me with this?” she had asked. “No matter how hard I try, it’s all useless? Pointless, even? Every task you give me is impossible. Why?” The tears trickling down her face made it worse.

The Great Sage looked at Ella with a compassion that twisted her guts. Something in their expression made her think they had come to a decision. “You’re trying to accomplish the impossible.”

“I… what?”

They nodded. “You are trying to make water run uphill.” Her face must have looked blank. “What makes these tasks impossible?”

“I can’t put them back th—” There it was. Plain and obvious. And so almost invisible. Aren. Yvn. Melani. Mother. The tears came harder and faster, acid with grief. “They can’t come back.”

She turned and pushed her face into their shoulder. Their thin arms were about her. It did not help. “I want her back! I want my mom back!”

A wail of abject suffering tore through the trees and over the cliff. The sun warmed her back as Ella doubled over, wracked by a pain she had not let herself feel. The rage was long past. It had died that day on the cliffs…

“… Teacher?” She straightened, offered them a rag to wipe themself. They took it, offering her one. “You know what I did before I came here. In this anger and pain I still don’t understand.” She raised her eyes so they met theirs. “You know I took revenge for her murder.”

They nodded.

She asked a question that had floated in her head for a long time, and just now realized why it floated there. “Why… did you take a monster wrecked by vengeance as your student?”

The morning sun made their eyes look like jet shot through with silver. “I took a young woman imprisoned by her own misunderstanding as my student,” they leaned forward, “because she asked.”

They finished. Ella felt a burden fall from her shoulders. She wiped her eyes. Her heart was overflowing with gratitude for this blessed being who had changed the course of her entire life. She glanced over at Master. She had been a student of the previous Great Sage. Had they helped her as much?

They rose, and began cleaning up the ceremonial accoutrements. “Havel,” Ella murmured, “I owe you an apology.”

He looked confused as she helped him take down the awning. “For what, Master?”

She shook her head. “I forgot what the Great Sage taught me of impermanence, and so broke my promise to you, to introduce you to them. I’m sorry.”

Havel held the awning while she untied it. “I think it’d be greedy of me to ask for another teacher. And he taught you, right?” Ella nodded. “And now you’re teaching me.” Another nod. “So I am learning his lessons.”

Ella had no idea how to reply until a familiar finger jabbed her in the side. She gave him a hug.

“Thank you, Havel. I’ll do my best.”

He hugged her back. “You always have, Master.”

#the fairy tales of ella and meline #tftem #how far we have come and must go #chapter 64 #my original work #fantasy #backyard fantasy #fairies #fae #fey #healing #lgbtqia+#magic #strong female protagonists #coming up with a title for this one was less than fun #will hopefully come up with something better on re-write

2 notes · View notes

ellaofoakhill · 3 years

Text

Behind the house, beyond the yard, on the far side of the pasture, in a home beneath a wild rose, lived Meline.

Meline was an earth fairy. She collected plants and minerals for potions. She would heal the mice, the goldfinches… even a spider.

She had a mantle of deep-black, so she could disappear. She had a willow staff, with an emerald-drop at its tip. She had a bag of medicine. It was full of crystal bottles and bags of powder and bandages, and a glass knife and scissors. And of course, she had the magic of the fey.

#The Fairy Tales of Ella and Meline #my original work #except the cover which thank you @heidivaris I love it so much!#introduction #TFTEM #fantasy #lgbtq+#fairies #iyashikei #fairy tales #romance #all ages #fey #magic #family #strong female protagonists #backyard fantasy #is it called backyard fantasy? I'm gonna call it backyard fantasy

48 notes · View notes

ellaofoakhill · 2 years

Text

Fun Scifi/Fantasy Trick:

I’ve had a thought in my head for some time now, that my brother kinda helped my put into words, for a little trick you can do for your worldbuilding--especially soft worldbuilding--to a) immediately help ground your audience in your world; and b) weird them out as they gradually figure out that the thing grounding them isn’t grounded in the way they thought it was.

I’ll use an example from my own work, The Fairy Tales of Ella and Meline. From the first story, Frog Legs Soup, fairy horses are a thing: Coarser is a fairy horse that lives with Ella, and along with being her friend, also functions as an--entirely voluntary--means of transport.

Now, when you think of a horse, you probably think of a large, fast quadrupedal mammal with a long, flowing tail and mane, a single toe on each foot, which is usually herbivorous (I heard an account a few years ago about a man, part of Napoleon’s attempted conquest of Russia, who was eaten by a horse, and part of me refuses to believe that isn’t true; if you’ve ever met a horse who’s a complete whackadoo, or a flatout asshole, you will understand my conviction).

And here’s the thing: at least on his own world, Coarser only ticks three of those eight boxes.

Fairy horses are relatively large animals on Fey, they are certainly capable of moving very quickly, and they are herbivorous. What I don’t explicitly say in the story anywhere is that Coarser isn’t even a vertebrate, let alone a mammal. The world of Fey is a hypothetical Earth about 200 million years in our future, give or take a few hundred millennia. In that time, most mammals and birds have fallen out of the spotlight, as have flowering plants. What has replaced them, you ask? One major group is descended from mudskippers, ‘cuz who wouldn’t wanna be? And a lot of animal groups which are currently on the sidelines have moved much closer to centre stage; sea lions evolved into the whales of the future, and lots of creatures have grown considerably larger, such as penguin descendants now 30+ feet tall, crabs, spiders, and scorpions have species the size of a lion or bigger, gymnosperms have made a serious comeback, and brown algae, which you might recognize today as various kelps, have made the move onto dry land, competing with plants as we know them.

But from whom, you might ask, remembering our initial example, are fairy horses descended? The reason I used the kelps as my last example was because they weren’t the only lifeforms that rose from the waves in that time. Cephalopods did, too; in particular, the descendants of cuttlefish.

And cuttlefish have not four, but ten limbs. TEN! But before you ask, no, fairy horses do not have ten legs; well, not ten appendages that still act as legs, anyway. Two of those ten limbs act as a pair of tails, displaying mood and assisting balance. And two more, on the head, are small tentacles acting much like tongues, that taste and manipulate food before passing it into the mouth. So that leaves six limbs for locomotion, which act mostly the same as a horse’s four (I imagine with six limbs, fairy horses are not necessarily faster, but more stable when they run, and their gait is probably smoother, but I digress). They also retain the cuttlefish’s ability to change the colour of their skin, which is an extremely useful means of camouflage and communication, and is relevant to fairy horses because they have no fur; they have a layer of styrofoam-like tissue full of air pockets beneath their skin that insulates them. There’s a bit of a Wizard of Oz reference there, yes you caught it, good job.

Getting back to our initial point, you’re probably asking the question: why am I calling this colour-changing, six-legged, tentacled monster with two tails a horse? 2 reasons:

I hadn’t thought that far ahead when I first started writing tftem, and the idea of Fey being a future Earth, in contrast to Nidd being a past Earth, hadn’t occurred to me yet, but I like the parallel.

And while Coarser might not look like the blase mammalian horse you would immediately recognize--and this is the important part--he fills a very similar role in his world.

So it might be better to differentiate between a biological horse and a functional horse, in this instance: a biological horse looks like a horse, and acts like one, where a functional horse only acts like a horse. Sort of (I’ve yet to write of a fairy horse eating anyone, but who knows?).

So, once I do a bit more editing, you’re probably going to notice things about Coarser, after I’ve established him as a horse, albeit a fairy one: a casual reference to a left middle hoof here, a touch on his left tail there, perhaps something startles him and he bites his left tentacle. And the colour-changing has a lot of potential, too. But it’ll be gently worked in, slipped in here and there, spaced apart, so only gradually do you come to realize that, while Coarser acts like a horse, behaviourally and in his role in the society he’s a part of, he is not the kind of horse you would immediately recognize as one.

I chose to do this mainly for the following reason: my fey, in many ways, do not resemble the fey-like beings of folklore from across the world. In many ways, they’re quite human, at least with the story told from their perspective. But a common theme with the fey and their like in myth and folklore is that, superficially, at a quick glance, they might resemble a person, and unless you know what to look for, you might pass them by without realizing their true nature. But pay close attention, and you will start to notice things that mark them as odd, even alien, but none of it is overt, and you will start to feel a sort of mystery, or wonder, of something that is fundamentally different, or at least dramatically different from what you thought it was. Something very like this is used in horror stories a lot, actually.

And you can use this, too! You could refer to that affectionate, medium-sized domesticated animal your protagonist is accompanied by all over the place by an alien-sounding name, and so mark it as a weird dog-insert. Or you could call it a dog, and do what I did, alluding to details of its makeup that do not match what a dog looks like, to convey that there is something strange about this creature, but it is only strange to the audience.

A fascinating idea that you could use, if you have multiple viewpoint characters--at least one who’s human, and one who’s not--is to have the human foreigner refer to the creature by its alien name, and the alien call it a dog. To the alien, that’s the role this creature fills, and it conveys a comfortable part of everyday life so normal you might only occasionally make any comment on it, and it’ll help ground the reader in what might otherwise be a very weird culture and way of thinking. To the human, the creature is decidedly not a dog, though it might act very like one, and so you can have the human use the alien’s own name for the creature to underscore that difference, both to the human character, and to us. And you could really play around with both perspectives bouncing off each other, until you realize both words and both parties are referring to the same thing.

Granted, there is potential to confuse your audience, especially if you’re throwing a lot at them early on in your work, so use this technique carefully. Just a fun idea I’ve tried, and am going to work more into my future stories. Give it a try; Maybe you’ll enjoy it, too.

#writing #fantasy #scifi #tftem #alien cultures #alien creatures #is there a name for this?#I feel like there should be a name for this #fun writing tricks

5 notes · View notes

ellaofoakhill · 3 years

Text

Reblog if you re-wrote or are re-writing one of your protagonists/major characters, on the grounds that--I can think of no better way to put this-- your story needs more himbo. Also, if you want, include your story, protagonist’s name, and a brief summary of who they were before you nudged them a little further to the right on the himbo spectrum.

I’ll go first:

Lord Ella of Oakhill is a beefcake and a kind soul, and while she is intelligent, and even wise, I’m in the process of giving her difficulty in reading people, on the grounds that both a) it fits with her fairly reclusive personality, b) it gives her more depth as a character, and c) it makes her at least 30% funnier, esp. when her student, Havel, usually gets a far better read on people.

#writeblr #writer's challenge #himbos #tftem #tbc ella's still not what I would call a himbo #I'm just edging her a little closer to that character archetype

2 notes · View notes

ellaofoakhill · 3 years

Text

Weird Writing Things

So I’ve been writing a prequel to The Fairy Tales of Ella and Meline, which has required a fair bit of worldbuilding on my part, and far more than I was expecting when I started on it. Allow me to elaborate (no spoilers for TFTEM, by the way, so read ahead without fear).

As yet, there are three mortal realms/planes/what have you in TFTEM: Gaea (our world), Fey (the world of origin for elves, fairies, gremlins, gnomes, and certain fey creatures), and Nidd (the homeworld of drakles, dragons, and their kin). Gaea, obviously, is set in Earth’s present (wait, does that, however loosely, make TFTEM urban fantasy?!). But any natural historians or paleontologists among my audience might have picked up on certain cues in the text, especially in the most recent chapters, that Nidd is decidedly not; they might even deduce that Nidd is set in the Mesozoic Era (aka The Age of Dinosaurs). In particular, at the end of the Triassic, bc, as I’ve mentioned previously, that time period is as fascinatingly weird as it is underrated compared to the other three periods of the Mesozoic. Yes, there will be references to redwoods and other gymnosperms which have fossil evidence extending only into the Early Jurassic, but like mammals, these groups probably originated earlier (yes, I’m stretching the evidence the slightest bit; I’m a writer, it’s what we do), and so I’ve kept the common names we know these things by today (as much as possible), in part to keep these stories feeling more like fantasy and fairy tale than sci-fi or sci-fan.

And then we come to Fey, which I freely admit I’d only vague ideas about geographically and biologically. Now, as previously mentioned, Nidd is essentially set on an Earth roughly 200 million years younger than our current version. In part, I wonder if this had to do with dragons and their kin being reminiscent of ages past in our world, when giant creatures ruled the world that’ve left behind only bones to mark that they were here. A world more raw and fresh than any you and I have ever experienced, captured in myths of ancient, cosmic fish and serpents that formed the world, encircle it, bear it on their backs, or were slain and had the world carved from their bodies.

And the thought occurred to me: what if Fey was the opposite? Instead of a younger world, what about an elder? An Earth 200 million years in our future, with the sole difference (besides magic) being that humanity never evolved here? Or more precisely, that The Great Leap Forward (see The Third Chimpanzee by Jared Diamond) never happened?

Anyway, what this all translates to is that I’ve been mapping a future Earth, keeping in mind creatures and things I think would give future Earth a decidedly fey feel: namely ethereal and mysterious, and just plain strange (like capturing a slight sci-fi feel without the sci-fi).

I always find it fascinating when an author talks about things that become big parts of their stories which they had no clue were there when they started writing. Just thought I’d share in case anyone else felt the same way.

#the fairy tales of ella and meline #tftem #fey #worldbuilding #earth in the deep future #it's fun to speculate about #but I do truly miss the proboscideans #I'm sorry guys #natural history #sort of I guess #future earth

2 notes · View notes

ellaofoakhill · 3 years

Text

Woes of the Kingfisher, Part Three

“Good morning,” Annafleth said as she came into the kitchen. Meline looked up from the hashbrowns she was covering to keep warm. “Have you seen Vaness?”

Meline remembered the conversation Ella had told her about. “Ella’s taken her and Havel to do a bit of salvaging.”

Annafleth had just grabbed a chair to sit in; her knuckles whitened. “Are you certain that’s wise? Vaness has never spent any time around people, after all.”

“That may be true,” Meline said as she threw batter down for pancakes, “but Ella has millennia of experience living around people. Vaness is in good hands.”

“All the same…” She sat.

“Can I interest you in some tea?” Meline said, getting out a cup and spoon. She set a small pot of honey on the table.

Annafleth sighed. “Sure. Please.” Deyna stirred, and Annafleth spent a moment settling him. “You mentioned Selva has harp lessons tonight?”

“Yeah, with Julian, a friend of mine,” Meline said. She flipped a pancake. “Are all children as driven to learn as Selva? She’s always hungry for more.”

“Hard to say with this one,” Annafleth said, resting a hand on Deyna’s head under her scarf. “Arlen is always zipping around, hunting for aphids and trolls, and whatever adventures he can find… which I suppose is a sort of learning. Vaness, though…” she shook her head.

Meline weighed a thought, as she served Annafleth her tea. “I’ve noticed a bit of tension between you two. Did something happen?” Annafleth’s eyes met hers; questioning, not aggressive.

Annafleth stirred in a bit of honey, and sipped. “This is good. Rosehip… and sage? And a bit of rosemary.” Meline nodded. Annafleth sighed. “Parenting is the hardest job you will ever have. It’s also the most rewarding, but you’re going to lose more sleep to your kids than everything else put together. And you’re going to make so, so many mistakes, no matter how hard you try.”

“This is encouraging,” Meline said, finishing one pancake and throwing on another.

Annafleth snorted. “Vaness and I have butted heads since she was five hundred years old. Dad says we’re too much alike.” She sipped again. “I was actually going to ask Ella if you two would have her here for a while.”

Meline almost put a hand on the hot stove. “I—I mean, it’s Ella’s call, but if she’s fine with it—are you sure?”

Annafleth nodded. “My relationship with my mom was happy, while she was alive. But she left when I was a little younger than Vaness. And then she was murdered.” She shook her head. “I want a long, happy relationship with my daughter. And I think maybe giving us some distance right now is the best thing for that.” Another sip. “What do you think?”

Meline didn’t answer immediately. She thought back on her own home life. “I know that distance helped improve my relationship with my own parents. I certainly understood them better after I’d roamed the worlds on my own for a while.” She slid another couple pancakes off the stove, and threw two new ones on. “Are the two of you on good terms now?” Annafleth grimaced. “I was lucky enough that I left on fairly good terms with my family. I kept in touch from the get-go. So it was easy to keep at it. If you part on bad terms, it might make the gap wider. I have friends where that happened, and they wish it hadn’t.”

Annafleth nodded; her grimace hadn’t entirely faded. “I thought it’d be something like that.” She cocked her head. Meline heard the patter of feet. “Were you planning on going out tonight? I’d like to continue talking.”

Meline smiled as Selva burst through the door, Arlen hot on her heels. “Of course. I have pine needles and deep-black to gather.”

Ella snatched the gremlin in one arm and jumped down a hole in the snow made by the fox’s paw. “Your friends?” she whispered so softly she hardly heard herself.

“The shed,” the gremlin said. “We used it before in a blizzard. There’s a mouse hole on the west wall, between a cinder—”

Ella flicked her head up and down. “I use it, too.” The growling was getting louder. The spear in Ella’s hand made her feel better, but if her hunch was correct, it would be somewhat more useful than a teacup on a bonfire.

The gremlin tapped her shoulder. He motioned to his cloak. Ella arched her eyebrows. It was deep-black. Barely a whisper, he spoke a word of power. The cloak swelled like a cloud, until it engulfed both of them. He pointed to himself, then her. He pointed up, out of the hole, and held a wizened finger to his lips. Ella nodded.

She cupped her hands, and boosted him. He jumped back down and pulled her into a hollow on one side of the hole. He spoke another word, and the hole became utterly black. Ella smelled the fear-sweat on him.

The growling became a deathly thrum; it was so close, now, Ella could hear an undercurrent of curses and paranoid babble. This fox was mad. Madder than mad. It had hours to live.

The snow crunched behind Ella, churned by a paw broader than Havel’s shoulders. It stopped. Ella heard cables of drool hiss as they struck the snow. She hoped the sound drowned out her pounding heart.

When the paw behind her lifted—a claw bigger around than her calf brushed her back—she grabbed the gremlin and wriggled into the new hole. They waited.

The fox’s footfalls receded. The gremlin unspoke his word. He was trembling, but there was a grimness in his expression that made Ella doubt he would break down. She touched his cloak, pointed to him, then herself, then up. He nodded. He spoke a word, and the cloak expanded again. Ella boosted him, and he clawed his way out of the hole. Ella jumped, drove her hands into the crusty snow near the surface, and the gremlin helped pull her up.

Ella looked around, spear in hand. The fox was looping its way along the north wall of the shed, avoiding the puddles with crazed whimpering. It was a dog-fox, his clothes torn and his pelt matted with dirt and frost.

The gremlin tugged her hand, and they set out. They picked their way slowly along, careful not to slip as the melting snow re-froze, testing with Ella’s spear for rotten ice. Ella’s ears strained for any hint of the fox returning. With the gremlin’s expanded cloak he wouldn’t see them, but he could still smell, and if they made a noise…

They avoided the snowless spot next to the shed. The currant bush was more of a barrier than anything, and the ground was a quagmire after a warm spring day. It looked like the fox had already been at the cinderblock, trying to get to the tunnel between it and the wall, but the block was still anchored by frost. The gremlin unspoke his word again and went in, Ella close behind.

The tunnel the mice had dug led up on an angle, coming out under a wooden step. Havel needed to crawl to use it.

As soon as Ella poked her head out of the tunnel, two huge hands lifted her into a bone-cracking hug. “M-Master!” was all Havel could get out. A slimmer pair of arms had Ella from behind, and she could hear Vaness crying into the back of her shoulder. She let them have their moment.

“Myles?” a voice said. “Where’s Myles?”

Ella looked as the gremlin, with four others Ella assumed were part of his little company, shook his head. Another elf, much shorter and slimmer than the one Ella had left behind, fell to their knees and wept. A third knelt and pulled them into a hug, as tears streamed from his own eyes. Ella tapped her two huggers, and they released her.

She approached the group, and knelt. “I’m Ella of Oakhill, the lord of these lands. I’m sorry; he was already dead when I found him.”

A she-gremlin and a gnome came forward. The gremlin shook her head. “The fox came on us as we were passing the shed. Myles tried to distract it so we could flee, but… I looked back when it shook him.”

“The fox is mad,” the first gremlin said, “It would’ve killed all of us and gone looking for more.”

“By the look and sound of it,” Ella said, “it’s in the later stages. It has maybe a few hours before the paralysis sets in. We should stay put and wait it out.”

“But Myles…” the second elf said.

“Mad creatures don’t concern themselves with the dead, Shane,” the gnome said; her own eyes were wet. “He’ll… he’ll still be there.”

“You can keep him in my hall,” Ella said, “while you make preparations.”

The group exchanged looks. “We appreciate the sentiment,” Shane said, “but he’ll want to make his last journey north with the rest of us.”

Ella nodded. “I understand.” A horrifying thought occurred to Ella. “Meline!”

Havel and Vaness stirred behind her. “She doesn’t know the fox is mad!” Vaness said.

“We need to get her a signal!” Ella took her horn from about her neck and went back to the tunnel.

“Won’t that draw the fox?” the she-gremlin said.

“The fox can’t reach us in here,” Ella said, sliding her legs into the hole. “If I get to the opening, the sound should carry some distance.”

Ella reached the bottom, and crept to the tunnel opening. Her mouth dried. The fox, frothing and slavering, was coming around the currant bush. Before she lost her chance, Ella spoke a word of power, and raised her horn.

“What was Ella like as a kid?” Meline asked. She and Annafleth were stacking pine needles and cones. The snow had finally melted enough to expose the space under the boughs.

“Hmm… kinda lost in her own world,” Annafleth said. “She was Havel’s age when I was born, and Mom was already teaching her how to run the estate, and how to politick.” Meline heard the smile in her voice. “She was especially bad at the latter, but she always made sure to play with her little sister, and teach me what Mom taught her.”

“So she’s always been a teacher, then?”

Annafleth shrugged. “I suppose. She had her crazy spells, too.”

“Crazy?”

“Whenever the fair was in town, she made a point of challenging their strong-gnome,” Annafleth said, “to see who could lift the bigger rock.”

“A gnome?” Meline laughed. “How bad was it?”

“She managed a full ounce. The gnome doubled her.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Meline said, setting her needles on the stack, “You’re telling me that Ella at eight hundred years old—”

“About seven, actually,” Annafleth said. “That’s one of my earliest memories.”

“—You’re telling me she lifted a full ounce without magic?”

Annafleth nodded. “And she was built like Vaness back then.”

Meline almost cursed; she remembered Deyna was under Annafleth’s cloak in time.

“Alright, I think we have enough pine needles,” Meline said, tying up a bundle, slipping it into a sack and shouldering it, “shall we go find that fox?”

“What do you think might be wrong with it?” Annafleth asked, taking a bundle herself.

“Well, there are a few possibilities,” Meline said as they set out across the snow. “It could be drunk, in which case we’ll help sober it up so it doesn’t drown in a puddle, or find it a safe place to sleep it off.”

“Room in the stable for one more.”

Meline almost gave Annafleth an incredulous look. “Ella’s told you some of the differences between Fey and Gaea, right?”

Annafleth paused. “Are foxes a bit bigger here?”

Meline snorted. “A big dog fox might stand taller than four of me. And they are not the largest creatures of Gaea.”

Annafleth laughed. “You’re—” Meline pointed at what was unmistakably a fox’s footprint, big enough the two could have sat in it, with room for one more, “… oh.”

“A second possibility,” Meline said as they followed the trail, “is that it has an illness of mind, and isn’t taking medicine. I have a few clients like that. Perfectly normal with medication, but they fall apart without it.”

“In which case?”

Meline shrugged. “I either find out who the fox’s witch is, or I take them. I’ve got space for new clients.”

“Medicating a fox sounds expensive, if they’re this big.”

“Depends on the medication,” Meline said, “and how much they need. A healthy fox gets a lot of good work, since they’re fast and strong. Besides, over the years I’ve accumulated quite a store of ingredients.”

Annafleth nodded. “Any other possibilities?”

Meline frowned. “A head injury is always possible, accidents happen. Then there’s the ills even I can’t help with.”

“Such as?”

“The worst is water fear,” Meline said. “It doesn’t occur on Fey, which is good, as it’d tear across the world like wildfire. If a creature has been bitten—”

“Bitten?”

“Like I said, the worst one,” Meline said. The tracks led north and east; maybe they’d bump into Ella and the others. “I can prevent the disease from spreading, so long as I treat her before the madness starts. Once it has…” she shook her head.

They came to a puddle. The tracks went wide around it. “Meline?”

“Yes?” By Annafleth’s tone, Meline was not the only one who had just shivered.

“You called it ‘water fear’?”

Meline’s swallowed a lump of spit. “I did.”

They jumped as Ella’s horn gave three sharp blasts from the shed. A pause, and then three more. And then three more.

Meline glanced at Annafleth’s face. She knew that signal, too. Great danger was afoot.

Ella scrambled back up the tunnel. A blast of fetid breath and ravening snarls hit her in the face as the fox rammed his snout as far after her as it could. In one horrifying moment, she backslid, her feet striking his nose. The only thing that saved her, as the fox thrashed, was that the tunnel was too narrow for him to open his mouth. She swore, kicked back, and flung herself up. Havel hauled her the rest of the way.

“Alright,” she said, taking deep, gasping breaths, “the warning’s out. Every fey and creature in earshot knows to stay indoors and get the word out.”

“Good,” Havel said, as everybody else half-relaxed. “Master?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t ever do anything that reckless again!” Vaness shouted. The scraping of claws intensified.

Ella raised an eyebrow. By her expression, Vaness realized her mild hypocrisy. “Sometimes, Vaness,” Ella said, rolling into a kneeling position, “a reckless action is your best action. Meline and your mother are out gathering herbs and looking for a sick fox to treat. I do not want them or anyone else meeting it.”

Vaness covered her face with her hands, and spewed a string of invective so toxic Havel blushed to his roots. “Auntie Ella, Mom is not going to scramble for cover when she doesn’t know where I am! I told you last night how she’s been acting! She’s going to find me and save me or die trying, because she’s just as stupid as the two of us!”

Ella bit back her own curse; that was entirely true. “Yes. But at least they will come expecting danger.”

“Assuming she doesn’t go absolutely berserk,” Vaness lowered her hands; Ella was quite sure her tears were due as much to rage as fear.

She was saved a reply by the she-gremlin. “The fox has stopped clawing.” They listened. He had. Ella could still hear him snarling. She could also hear faint strains of singing. Oh no…

Even with the ground speeding her, Meline was barely keeping up with Annafleth as they ran toward the shed. She didn’t respond when Meline tried to speak; the snarl on her face screamed that her daughter’s safety drove everything else from her mind.

Meline huffed out her nose, and snapped a backhand against Annafleth’s shoulder. Annafleth stumbled, but didn’t stop. The look she gave Meline was too wild to be angry. “What!”

“If we go in without a plan, we’re likely to get one or both of us killed, and possibly anyone we’re trying to rescue,” Meline said. “If we are dealing with a mad fox—”

“I’ll kill it!” Annafleth said with dangerous certainty. “You said yourself once the madness sets in, curing it is impossible.”

“You’ve no chance of beating something that size alone,” Meline said.

“You’re here!”

“And I’ll be useless unless we come up with a plan,” Meline said. “If you want to save Vaness, you need to think for just a moment!”

Annafleth looked like it took all her restraint to slow to a walk. “Speak. What around the people’s shed can we use?”

Meline considered a moment. “The shop’s close to the trees on the north side. And there’s a big currant bush at this end.”

Annafleth seemed to force her mind into motion. “Alright, I can use those. Are there rocks or anything nearby you can use?”

Meline shook her head. “Nothing I can easily carry.” She blinked. “But the soil around the shop is quite sandy. I can compact it.”

“Alright, I have the beginnings of a plan…”

“Do you hear singing, too?” Shane said.

“Mom!” Ella grabbed at Vaness as she lunged for the tunnel, and missed. Cursing, Ella took up her spear and followed.

“Havel, stay here!” she ordered as she hit the tunnel bottom. Vaness stood just beyond the cinderblock, a look of slack-jawed awe on her face. Ella was about to pull her back, but when she left the safety of the block and saw what Vaness saw, she understood.

Afleth was standing on the other side of the fox, which was straining to reach her; she was singing, a wordless tune of such powerful fury Ella wondered that the fox, mad as it was, didn’t run. From the torn ground snaked roots as thick as Ella’s arm, coiled tight about his ankles, and wrists, and waist. As she looked, the fox pulled the root about his right ankle further out of the ground.

“It’s not enough,” Ella said under her breath. “The fox is still moving, and she can’t keep this up.”

Vaness’s hand almost smacked Ella across the face. Her voice, thick with wrath and her own tears, joined her mother’s. More roots tore the ground, strengthening their hold on the fox, halting his advance. Another mighty root bound his muzzle; the fox heaved, fighting with mindless rage to escape and bite and spread his madness.

Ella shook her head, ready to grab Vaness and throw her into the tunnel; she’d fight like a demon to save Afleth, but after they wore themselves out, Ella doubted she’d have time to—

The sound of bone shattering hit Ella’s ears. The fox bucked, once, twice, three times, then sagged, its body spasming in its death throes. Afleth and Vaness ceased their song. Afleth fell to her knees. Vaness fainted. Ella caught her before she hit the ground. She set Vaness beside the opening, and called for Havel and the others.

Meline was already beside Afleth, helping to steady her. As Ella loped past the fox, she saw his jaw was a mess of blood and ripped flesh.

Before Meline could say anything, Ella had her in her arms, and a damp kiss on her lips. “Are you alright?” She didn’t care how jagged her voice sounded.

Meline kissed her back, relief palpable in every line. “Of course. Are you?”

“Yeah, all three of us are.” She touched her sister’s shoulder. “Afleth?” She looked up; she was barely sensible. “Vaness is fine.”

Afleth didn’t say a word; she set her head in her hands and cried.

The travelers declined Ella’s second offer to stay and rest, and keep Myles’s body there until they were ready to bury him; Shane assured Ella he would want to join the local spirits protecting and providing for his family as soon as he could.

Meline briefly explained what happened with herself and Afleth. Afleth restrained the fox, while Meline crashed a ball of improvised sandstone into the fox’s skull.

Ella told Pops and Stuart what had happened, and resolved to tell Selva when she and Arlen woke the next evening. She was headed to sleep herself when she turned the corner and saw Afleth knock at Vaness’s door. A soft reply, and she entered. Ella crept over, leaning against the doorjamb; if there was to be a fight, she wanted to resolve it quickly and gently.

“—I never saw it before you had it with the roots,” Vaness said. “Auntie Ella sent Havel and me to the shop the instant she thought something was wrong.”

“Good. She did the right thing. You both did.” A silence filled the room. “Vaness, I’m sorry.”

A short, probably baffled pause. “What for?”

Afleth chuckled. “For… ugh, for everything.” Ella pictured her leaning back in the chair. “I know I’ve been smothering you and your brother. On the trip here—”

“Mom, we got attacked by a spider,” Vaness said with a snort of good-natured exasperation. “I didn’t like it, but I understand why you went a bit crazy.”

A short pause. “It’s more than that, Vaness. I wasn’t just scared because of the spider. I was worrying about our relationship, and I… lost track of Arlen, which was partly why he got so far from the sledge. My—yeah, paranoia’s a fair word—was from that guilt, too. And I took it out on you.”

The springs of Vaness’s bed creaked. “Mom, it’s alright…”

There was a short space in which Ella thought Afleth was shaking her head. “It’s not just the trip. I’ve always been a bit overbearing, I know. Especially with you.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Is it because of Gramma?”

“Probably,” Afleth said. “And your aunt. But I can tell you’re wanting to go out and do things, and see what life’s like beyond our little slice of Fey. And I want to give you space to do that.”

“What do you mean?” The bed creaked again; Ella thought Vaness might have leaned toward her mother.

“I mean your aunt and her fiancée have proven themselves responsible guardians, and if you want to stay here after the wedding, you have my blessing.”

Ella shared Vaness’s baffled silence. But she knew she’d say yes, if Vaness wanted to.

“… Can I think about it?”

She heard Afleth give her daughter a kiss. “Take all the time you need.”

#the fairy tales of ella and meline #tftem #woes of the kingfisher #part 3 #chapter 38 #my original work #fantasy #backyard fantasy #fae #fey #healing #lgbtqia+#magic #strong female protagonists

1 note · View note

ellaofoakhill · 3 years

Text

The Duel, With the Rat, Part Three

“Now, Felix,” Ella said. They had moved into the hall once Selva had been put to bed and Stuart had left, “you said you could tell us something about the Count?”

Felix nodded, taking a seat on a bench. “The sheriff’s office keeps ongoin’ investigations quiet. But much o’ what he’s done is public knowledge, though I know you keep t’ yerself much o’ the time.” He took a deep breath. “Count Varen of Poplarhold’s a duellist.”

Ella almost spat into the hearth fire. “So he’s hardly better than a mercenary.” Under very specific circumstances, with all other options exhausted, one might need to take another life. One also needed to feed oneself, and to put a roof over one’s head. But to kill for money, to put a price to the priceless…

“He has the best record on the continent,” Felix continued. “He’s won over a thousand duels as challenged or challenger, and fought over three hundred. He’s never yielded, nor withdrawn.”

“Which means he’s never lost,” Ella said. Yielding was the only non-lethal way to lose a duel.

“Aye.” Felix sipped his faerye. “Though, most of his duels after the first hundred were won because the other side withdrew, or yielded before first blood. A reputation can make sturdy armour, y’ see.”

Ella nodded. “Has he ever fought someone like me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What are you getting at, Ella?” Meline said as she stitched her cloak.

“Numbers can be helpful, but misleading,” Ella said. “I’ve trained diligently with a variety of arms since I was younger than Selva—about twenty-three thousand years—and have not shirked. I’ve trained my mind as well, to be harder and sharper than volcanic glass, and more flexible than a green willow withe. I am not your typical swordsman. So, has he ever faced someone like me?”

“Hold on.” Ella looked over at Meline. Her fingers flew over the keyboard of her scrying mirror; where had she pulled it from?

“Meline?”

“Duelling records are public,” she said, “so I should be able to find them on here.”

The cogs of Ella’s mind jammed to a halt. She approached, watching over Meline’s shoulder. Felix, illiterate though he was, watched over the other. “I thought you could only call other fey on this.”

“And it’s adorable you thought so.” Meline gave Ella a kiss on the cheek. Writing flashed up on the mirror. “Here we are!”

Ella scanned the mirror. “So we have one elf he fought three thousand years ago, who trained with the sword for some six thousand years. Uh… hmm, seems more like a young hothead than anything. Anyway, he yielded, but died of his wounds shortly after.” She shook her head.

They searched for a while; most reports were similar to the first. “No one really matches you,” Felix said. “Seems Varen’s choosy ‘bout who he duels. No one with more experience, and someone he can profit from.” He looked across at Ella. “There’s eye-witness accounts, if you’d like t’ see.”

Ella considered a moment. “I don’t think so. Yes, they could be useful. But I’ll be fighting the Varen of eight days from now, not the Varen from three thousand years ago.”

“True. At least now, we know you’ve a chance o’ winning.” Felix stood up and stretched. “I should be leaving, myself. Wish I could do more, but I hope you trounce him.”

Ella nodded. “Thank you for the help you’ve already given.”

“Meet at the Dizzy Duck Saturday after next?” Meline held up a fist. Felix bumped it.

“Wouldn’ miss it.” Felix turned and nodded his farewell at the door.

“You and your street signs,” Ella said after Felix left. She settled on the bench beside Meline. She looked down at her hands. “Meline?”

“Yes?” She shut her mirror.

“What am I going to do?”

“What do you—”

“From the impression I got,” Ella said, “and what Felix and Stuart told us, I don’t think I’ll die fighting Varen. I’ve more than enough mental advantage to compensate for any physical edge he might have. But… he’s Selva’s father. My relationship with my mother was nothing like theirs, but it could be hard sometimes. When she died… I spent a long time coming to terms with it.”

Meline was quiet for a moment. “And if you kill her father, however horrible their relationship was, however much it might seem the best thing to do, you’re afraid it’ll ruin your relationship with Selva.”

Ella settled her head on Meline’s shoulder. “But on the other hand, while my conditions seem ironclad, it’s always possible he could think of some way around them, and thereby take Selva back, or take revenge on us.”

After a moment, Ella felt Meline’s hand slide around her waist. Her other hand took Ella’s. “I wish I had the perfect answer for you, Ella.” There was a quiet, sad pause. “We’ve still got eight days for you to think of something. If you need me to help, with anything at all, I will.”

Ella nuzzled Meline’s cheek. “I love you.”

Meline squeezed. “I love you, too.”

The next eight days passed too slowly and too quickly. Oakhill hadn’t been so quiet since before Meline moved in. Selva hardly left her room. Ella found herself unable to write, her

usual means of working through difficult feelings. When she wasn’t training— though it was a chore, she forced herself to—she aimlessly wandered the passages of Oakhill.

The day before, Ella—no closer to knowing what she was to do—couldn’t sleep, and found herself walking the halls again. A small copper nugget glowed in her hand. She walked by Selva’s room.

And did a double-take.

The door was ajar. Ella’s heart froze in her chest. The bed was empty, and made. The bells and guardians were quiet.

She pelted down the stairs three at a time. She came to the front landing. The door had just clicked in the latch. She almost wrenched it open. But she had a strong feeling she wasn’t alone.

“Selva?”

There was a squeak. Selva appeared just as she crashed into Ella, arms clutching her leg. For quite a while, all Ella could hear through the crying was “I’m sorry.” Ella set one hand on Selva’s head, and the other on her heaving back. Eventually, the sobbing ebbed, and Selva’s grip slackened. Ella sat on the stair, and pulled Selva up into her lap. For a while longer, Ella just held her, throwing her housecoat over the both of them. Her leg was damper and snottier than she was used to. She didn’t much care.

“He killed before,” Selva said.

“I know.”

“I seen him practice. It was… scary, but sorta… pretty?”

Ella nodded. “It can seem that way, sometimes.”

“I hurt fairies ‘n’ critters, ‘n’ make things hard.” She curled up into a little ball. “I’m bad, Elm—”

“Selva,” Ella barely whispered, but her voice was firm as mountain roots, “are you saying this for yourself? Or did he say this about you?”

“…Yeah.” Despite herself, Ella had to bite her tongue. “I gotta go, or you could die too.”

Ella found herself shaking her head. She’d realized something. “Selva, do you think I’m duelling your father because I have to?”

Selva gave the tiniest squeak. Ella felt her nod. She sighed. “There’s lots of reasons I have to do this. My obligations as lord of Oakhill. The honour of myself and my family, and because I believe it’s best for you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I want to do this because I love you.”

Despite her warmth, Selva froze in her arms. For the first time in days, she looked up at Ella. Her eyes asked.

“I couldn’t love you more if I’d borne you myself.” She squeezed Selva tight as her heart crinkled in her chest.

“Selva, I need to tell you a few things…”

#the fairy tales of ella and meline #tftem #the duel with the rat #chapter 31 #my original work #backyard fantasy #fae #fey #fairies #healing #iyashikei #lgbtqia+#magic #strong female protagonists #women

1 note · View note

ellaofoakhill · 3 years

Text

The Duel, With the Rat, Part One

Hello, my wonderful readers! I just wanted to take a moment to let you know that this was one of my all-time favourite stories to write, and so I hope it’s one of your favourites to read. Enjoy!

“You’re early this evening, Havel,” Ella said as his knock came on the kitchen door. Selva was only halfway through her honey-and-acorn flakes.

“Felt like getting a jump on things. Evening, Meline, m’lady,” he’d already removed his hat, but he still cut a leg he thought looked elegant for Selva. Ella almost spat tea across the room the first time she saw it, but Selva loved it. He pulled up the seat Meline offered him. “So, Master, what is the plan for today?”

“Hmm…” Ella already had the evening mapped out, but teaching the value of patience and consideration was worth a person’s weight in gold. “Well, your smithing has improved. According to Meline,” she nodded in said Meline’s direction, “Evelyn has nothing but praise for that saw you forged for her. You already knew a good deal about the underground, and you’ve demonstrated enough specialized knowledge to be a successful smith, or at least a dedicated apprentice. Your letters and grasp of prose, poetics, and philosophy are taking shape nicely. As is your grasp of magic.”

Havel hesitated. “So… that means…”

“‘The smith who never wields a sword should never make one’, as my own master says,” Ella said, knowing why Havel hesitated.

“But, Master, your finger—”

“Is healing nicely,” Ella said, flicking up her pinky. Meline had insisted on dressing it. The whiskey she’d cleaned it with hurt far, far worse than Havel’s sword. The copper she’d pressed to it after had cleaned up the worst of it, but the tissue was still weak and healing.

“But I cut you!”

Ella took a breath. “Yes. You did. You were practicing forms, and I gave you live copper. And right now, you feel far worse about it than I do.”

“The shot of faerye you had with breakfast helps,” Meline said, her mouth quirking up at the corners.

“Thank you for undermining me, dear.”

“Love you!” Meline flashed her a grin.

“Love you, too!” Ella flashed one back. She turned back to Havel. “Let me say this another way, Havel.” She leaned forward and lifted his chin. “If you had cut me and felt nothing, I would never teach you again. Nor have I ever made so much as a paring knife for a violent being.” She held up her hand, showing him her finger. “You have shown me you are a gentle soul, and will not carelessly put others in danger. You have proven yourself a dedicated student, else you would never have improved so much as you have. And,” a smile tugged at her lips, “may I assume you will apply a similar dedication to the sword as to your other studies, so that it will never slip from your control again?”

She waited. Eventually, he nodded; Ella made no comment on the brightness of his eyes. “I will, Master.”

“Good. I insist that you continue with live copper for your forms, which we will practice tonight. I will stand outside your reach, and we will both mind your blade.” Havel aggressively nodded. “And then we might spar with the ash blades. If you could gather everything and head out to the grounds south of the tree, where we practiced wrestling?”

“Not the armoury?” Havel was already halfway out of his seat.

Ella shook her head. “The feet must be trained as well.” Havel nodded, and was back out the kitchen door.

“That was well handled,” Meline said as she finished her tea.

“There are too many fey in the worlds eager to swing a blade without thinking of the price it might incur. Havel is the opposite. He grasps better than any student I’ve had that the blade should be drawn only once all other choices are gone. He just needs to train his body and mind not to think once he’s drawn.” Ella looked out the window, toward the panels and willows in the corner of the yard. “What are your plans for tonight, Meline?”

“Well,” Meline said, “I was planning on sewing that new cloak in my workroom, but it’s a calm night, so would you mind if I watched the pair of you while I stitch?”

Ella was surprised until the word “stitch” passed Meline’s lips. Was she… was she a bit worried? “No, of course not. You’re welcome to.” She turned to Selva. “And you, Selv?”

“Hmm…” Ella heard Meline suppress a snort, and pointedly did not roll her eyes; yes, fine, Selva copied some of her mannerisms. “Can I ride Coarser?”

Ella smiled. “If you ask him nice, and give him a bite of honey, I’m sure he won’t say no.” She forced a serious look on her face. “If he starts getting jittery, though, come right back to the stables with him. Better yet, come find us. You know where we’ll be.”

The night was still. The waning moon gave plenty of light for Meline to see by.

The stitching wasn’t complicated, so she looked up every now and again as Havel and Ella trained. Havel had been Ella’s student for something like three hundred years. Meline’s own… education… had been different, but she could see Havel’s form was good, as was his handling of his arming sword. And Ella…

If she hadn’t known Ella, Meline would’ve thought her elegant precision was unconscious. But she knew Ella devoted every waking moment—and probably most unwaking moments—to improving herself.

They finished their form work. Ella handed Havel the other sword of ash, and they squared up. The terrain was rough here, littered with half-buried acorns and cupules.

The bow, the settling into stance, and then they began. In physical terms, Havel was stronger than Ella—he outweighed her by almost an ounce, and worked in the forge or the mines nightly—and had the longer arms and blade.

Ella parried, ducked, pivoted, and countered with… given she was middle-aged, she wasn’t even faster than Havel. But she moved neither further nor faster than she had to, without the hint of a hint of hesitation. Always in the right place, at the right time, with the right technique. Havel’s slash or thrust might miss by a hair, but it still missed.

This would last half a minute or so. Then Ella would hold up a hand, and explain a weakness in Havel’s technique or mindset. She would get him to practice a few times, and then they applied the correction. This cycle repeated many times, though there were variations, games and exercises to mix things up. Meline once saw them walk along the narrowest branch of Oakhill with cups of saskatoon juice balanced on their noses. Ella returned with a single purple drop between her eyes; Havel had one large slosh down the left side of his shirt, but his cup was mostly full.

Today, after they sparred a bit, Ella held up a hand and stopped the bout. “Sash tag.” Havel grinned. Meline hid a smile; sash tag was the one game of Havel’s martial training Selva took any interest in. She’d be so disappointed she missed out.

Each sash had four tassels, one in front, one behind, one on each hip. Grabbing any of them meant instant victory.

They’d just squared up when a sound ripped through the night that froze the blood in Meline’s veins.

Selva was screaming.

Meline was already up and running around the tree when Coarser’s scream joined it. She heard a word of power pass her lips, felt the ground push up and forward against her feet.

“I’ll catch up!” Ella called behind her, as Havel’s footfalls caught up to Meline’s. A moment later, three sharp blasts sounded from Ella’s horn. She was taking no chances.

As they came around the east side of Oakhill, Meline saw large shapes in the grass, trying to surround Coarser, who jinked and dodged, his six legs flying. Selva was nowhere in sight.

Meline leapt, folded up her knees, and spoke another word. The ground dropped as her feet struck, like a pond’s surface beneath a pebble. And then it snapped back, shooting her in a high arc.

“Hey!” she roared. One of the shapes turned as she crashed into it.

The group converged on her. Or would have, if Havel hadn’t rammed into the one beside her. Meline got to her feet.

A stunned rat was laid out in front of her. They were all rats, switching to spears as their lassos looked less useful than a moment ago.

“Where is she?” Meline knew spears were very bad, with three of them against a dozen rats twice her size. But she found, as she settled into a rustily familiar stance, that she didn’t care.

There was an old accord between the creatures of Gaea and the fey. In times of conflict, the two were evenly matched. Creatures had numbers, fey had magic. The rats made no move to advance, but they didn’t lower their spears, either. Save one.

“Where’s who?” He was the largest rat present, but judging by the looks the others gave him, he wasn’t in charge.

“My daughter.” Making a stronger claim than she legally had felt like a good idea.

The rat shook his head. “I’ve known Selva as long as I’ve been alive, fairy. I know her scent like the scars on my hands.” Quite a few white slashes ran through his fur.

“She’s been living here for three years,” Meline said. “You must be ancient.”

“Stuart Timothy, oldest in the service of his lordship.” he sounded resigned.

“And which lordship is that?” Meline turned as Ella came up behind her, breathing lightly, wooden sword still in hand, copper ones in the other. Her attentive calm helped Meline relax the slightest bit. Coarser moved to stand by Ella’s other side. She reached up a hand to stroke his neck. She gasped, so softly Meline almost didn’t hear, and smiled.

“Ahem.” The rats snapped to attention, and parted. A figure with a bright light in its hand strode forward. As he drew closer—by the proportions, the fairy could only be male—the light in his hand resolved into a ball of fire. His clothes were a traveler’s, but fine. He wasn’t more than ten thousand years old. “My apologies for the disturbance,” he gave them an elegant bow, “and the intrusion. I am Varen, Count of Poplarhold. And I have been looking for my daughter, Selva, for three years.”

Meline struggled to keep her face blank. She glanced at Ella. She could just tell the implications of this introduction were not lost on her. Meline reached out and set a hand on Havel’s arm; it felt like knotted wood.

“I see.” The words were flat. “I am Lord Ella of Oakhill. These are Meline, formerly of Wild Rose,” she paused while the rats muttered and were again silenced, “and Havel of Deeprock, my protege. You will forgive me,” Ella said, “but I cannot hand over a child in my care because you say you are her father.”

The rats stirred. Varen raised a hand. They went still as statues. “I understand, of course.” Meline thought he was dealing with an unexpected bump in the road. He pulled out a roll of parchment. “Will this satisfy you?” He looked down. “Ah, there you are.” Selva was peeking around the far side of Coarser. Meline almost thumped Varen right there; Selva looked something beyond terrified.

Ella took the scroll and opened it. It was marked with six seals. One of them was gold. “Even the Fey Queen of Gaea…” Ella murmured under her breath. She rolled it up and handed it back. “I am satisfied that you are who you say you are.”

An easy smile spread across Varen’s features. He reached forward and around Ella. “Good, then we—”

“No.” Ella planted herself between one fire fairy and the other.

Varen looked nonplussed. “I am her father. I will compensate you for feeding and clothing her, but she is mine.” A thought lit his eyes. “Has she been telling stories, perhaps? Ach, children have such vivid imaginations, don’t they?”

There was a sliver of an instant when Ella’s mask of noble courtesy slipped; Meline almost missed it. Ella’s whispered reply, however, was crystal clear.

“Fist-shaped bruises are hard to imagine.”

Varen froze. As did his smile. He shook his head, ever so slightly. “Fey law is on my side. Now, shall I bring my daughter home,” he looked up at Oakhill, “or shall I take her?”

Ella’s eyebrows flicked up. She clapped her hands three times. Brass growls erupted around the assembled group. The guardians of Oakhill, twenty bronze tiger-shaped automatons with wicked antlers, had the rats surrounded.

“I would like to point out,” Ella said conversationally, “that however noble or ignoble your intentions, you’ve trespassed on my land.” Meline saw lights approaching through the trees; the entire community would be there in moments. “And Her Majesty dislikes criminals holding power as her representatives.”

“My motivations,” there was bite in Varen’s tone, “would ensure no conviction.”

“Only until I swear by mine own heart’s blood the condition in which Selva arrived on my lands,” Ella said. Varen blanched. One hand twitched to his sword. “Murdering another lord would only dig the hole deeper, I’m afraid.” This observation did not seem to settle him. “However, there is a very simple, very legal way we could settle this, between lords.”

Another light. Varen’s grin thawed. This did not improve it, in Meline’s opinion. “Shall I challenge you, then?”

“I accept your challenge!” Ella called, her voice ringing out as the lights drew closer.

“Shall we find a suitable number of witnesses, then?” Ella gestured with her eyes. Varen turned about. “Oh.”

A deputy disengaged himself from the fey and creatures gathering there. He was a water fairy. “What’s going on?”

“A misunderstanding,” Ella said, “which the Count and I mean to resolve—”

“—through a duel, yes,” he said, “I heard you.” Meline recognized him, by Felix’s description. Deputy Sheriff Darel. Extremely by-the-rules, and fair. “I take it you are accepting?” Ella inclined her head. Darel turned to Varen. “And you, Your Illustrious Highness?”

“Challenging.” Gone was his discomfiture at Ella’s obstinacy.

“Name the conditions of your victory,” Darel said to Varen.

“You, Ella of Oakhill, will yield Oakhill to me as a holding of my realm.” A minute flick of Ella’s eyebrow betrayed her surprise. “You will forfeit its guardians to me.” Meline swore to herself. The guardians might defend Oakhill, but they were Ella’s personal property; to own Oakhill was not to own them. “And you, Ella of Oakhill, will remove yourself to Fey for the remainder of your life, and never again set foot on Gaea.”

The expression on his face said what he daren’t. No one in their right mind would accept such terms. Save perhaps…

“I accept.”

The muttering crowd went silent. Darel hesitated only a moment, as he wrote. “And yours, My Lord?”

Ella held Varen’s gaze with glacial detachment. By his expression, he hadn’t expected her to accept. “You, Varen of Poplarhold, will forfeit all claims you have on your daughter, familial or otherwise.” The crowd gasped. “You, Varen of Poplarhold, are forbidden, and will forbid any living being over whom you hold any manner of influence, from attempting to remove Selva from my custody by any means, including harming her, myself, or any other of my friends, family, or allies, on pain of death.” That drew a few mutterings. “And you, Varen of Poplarhold, should Selva somehow end up on your lands or in the custody of you or any other aforementioned fey or creature, will immediately return her to Oakhill, alive and unharmed.”

Meline almost laughed. Whatever the outcome, the whole area would be talking about this for decades.

“I… accept.” Varen clearly realized his mistake, but was trying—and failing—to hide his annoyance.

Darel’s attention remained on Ella. “As the challenged, you may pick the time, place, and weapons.” Another blunder of Varen’s.

Ella smiled. “We will fight on the pasture west of the fence, in nine days’ time, with arming swords of straight fairy silver. You may also wear duelling gloves of the same material.”

“The duel is set!” Darel said. He held out the parchment. “Now seal this pact.”

Meline numbly handed Ella her sewing needle. Ella pricked her finger. Three drops. A moment later, Varen did the same.

And that was that.

#the fairy tales of ella and meline #tftem #the duel with the rat #part 1 #chapter 29 #my original work #backyard fantasy #fae #fey #fairies #healing #iyashikei #lgbtq+#magic #strong female protagonists #women

1 note · View note

ellaofoakhill · 3 years

Text

The Wild Rose, Part Three

Meline was quiet when she came the next day. Ella asked how she was, how her walk had been, what she’d had for breakfast, even if the innkeeper had stopped clutching his chest when she walked in. Her answers were nearly monosyllabic. She wasn’t sad or disappointed, as far as Ella could tell.

“Can I pour you some tea?” Ella said as Meline sat at the kitchen table.

“Please,” Meline said. It was sage and rosehip, with a drop of honey.

They sat in silence. Meline was doing everything in her power to avoid Ella’s eye, short of throwing on her deep-black mantle. “So…” Ella said, deciding she should start the conversation, “you wanted to discuss a few things before moving in.”

“Y-yes,” Meline said. She turned her tea cup around and around in her hands. She sighed. “First… I—um—I’ve been an independent fairy for over ten thousand years. And I’d… like to stay that way.”

Ella cocked her head. “How do you mean?”

“We’re not—” Meline’s walnut skin darkened, “we’re not married, and we haven’t really talked about it. And maybe you don’t need help keeping Oakhill running, or bringing in trade, but I—I’d like to help, as…as a roommate, I guess, and as a witch.”

“Ah,” Ella said. She leaned forward. “You want to help with the estate, and to continue practicing as a witch. I have that right?” Meline nodded. “Of course. What accommodations will you need?”

“That was going to be my next point,” Meline said. “Besides a bedroom, I’ll need a storeroom for herbs and ingredients.” She gave the wryest of smiles. “Maybe two, one for my… potent ingredients, and one for the rest. I’d just as soon not damage Oakhill with another explosion.”

“Well, Oakhill is a good deal sturdier than a wild rose,” Ella said, “so even if there is another accident, you’re not likely to bring the tree down.”

“That’s good,” Meline said, “It’s widely considered rude to blow up someone’s house.”

“At least in high society.”

“Anyway,” Meline said, “if possible, I’d also like a separate work room.” She looked around her. “Some of my draughts and elixirs can be dangerous, and shouldn’t be made or kept

where food is prepared. I was really fastidious with my cleaning at Wild Rose, but I was also the only one living there.”

Ella nodded. “I have a few rooms in the lower north wing that’d be perfect,” she said. “One even shares the pipes coming up to the kitchen here. We could install a sink, so you can wash up your tools and things.”

“Lovely,” Meline said. She started running a hand through her hair. “There is… one more thing.”

Ella had a feeling this was the crux of Meline’s nerves. “What is it?” Meline twirled her hair around one finger and tugged it out straight again. Ella sighed, reached across the table, and took her hand. “Meline.” When she made eye contact, Ella spoke. “If this thing isn’t a problem between us now, it likely will be down the line. We can grapple with it now, but we can’t do that if you don’t tell me what it is.”

Meline took a deep breath. “It’s Thamnophis.”

Ella furrowed her brow. “The snake?... Oh. She did try to eat you, didn’t she?”

“Hard to forget,” Meline said, “and as I mean to gather my own herbs, there’s a very good chance I’ll encounter her again.”

Ella rubbed her chin. “Well, I have good news, and possibly-bad news. The good news is Thamnophis died four years ago.” She raised her eyebrows. “Try not to look too relieved.”

“What’s the other news?” Meline asked, looking very relieved.

“Nasicus moved in shortly after Tham died.”

“Nasicus?”

“A hognose she-snake,” Ella said.

“That’s even worse!”

“They’re smaller!”

“They’re also fairy-eaters!” Meline banged her head against the table. She sighed. “Are there any other dangerous creatures here?”

Ella shook her head. “The people have a cat who leaves the house every now and again, but she’ll leave us be. Other than that, most creatures are civilized, and want fairies to not get eaten.”

“So I only have a hognose to worry about.” Meline sighed. “I know, there are dangerous creatures all through these lands, spiders and snakes and salamanders, and a few twisted beasts the people know nothing about. But can we do anything to ensure this one never eats a fairy?”

Ella regarded her tea for a moment. A thousand little things she’d noticed over the years made sense now. Every time Meline had a relieved look on her face when Ella went out to meet her. Every time she’d jumped when they went for a walk across the lawn. Every time she clutched Ella’s hand just a bit tighter than affection explained. Meline didn’t feel safe here, and it was well past time Ella did something about it.

She set her tea down. “I will bind Nasicus.”

Meline leaned back in her seat. “What?”

Ella shrugged. “Nasicus lives on land under my charge, and she knew I held Oakhill when she came here. As the lord of Oakhill, I am within my rights to bind any creature on my land who may threaten a fey subject.” She hesitated. “It would entail us formalizing your living here beforehand, though.”

“So I’ll be one of your subjects, then?” Ella breathed a sigh of relief; playful Meline was back for the first time that night.

“In name only,” Ella said. “I know far better than to believe I’ve any power over you, Meline.”

“So,” Meline hopped out of her chair, “when can we do this?”

Ella’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to do it now?”

“Yes!” Meline twirled on the spot. She whispered, “The owner of the Green Weevil said I have to be out tomorrow, or I’ll have to make another payment.”

Ella laughed. “We’ll need to gather three witnesses, then.”

In the end, Coarser, Evelyn, and Vedris served as their witnesses; Havel wouldn’t be of age for over three hundred years. The swearing had been simple, held on the shore of the pond; it was quicker for Ella and Meline to take Coarser back and forth. Evelyn had presided.

Lord Ella of Oakhill, do you swear to protect Meline as your own kin?

I do.

Do you swear to hear her voice in your counsels, and to regard it with the utmost gravity?

I do.

Do you swear, with every choice affecting your holdings, to hold her welfare above any personal benefit to you?

I do.

What do you swear by?

I swear by the marrow in my bones, by the magic in my blood, and by the beating of my heart.

Evelyn had nodded. Vedris—who wrote out the contract because Coarser lacked thumbs—nodded. Coarser nickered his assent. Evelyn turned to Meline.

Meline the Wild Rose, do you own Lord Ella of Oakhill as your landlord?

I do.

Do you swear to abide by her decisions as landlord, provided they endanger neither you nor yours?

I do.

Do you swear to breach no confidence she places in you of her lordly duties, save only to authorities greater than her?

I do.

What do you own and swear by?

Meline had met Ella’s eye, then. She knew Ella cared for her, but there had been a corner of her heart that wondered what she would do, how she would choose to handle this danger. Meline had long ago learned that if someone didn’t do everything they could to keep you safe, they didn’t love you.

And Ella had chosen to bring a serpent to heel.

I own and swear by the marrow in my bones, by the magic in my blood, and by the beating of my heart.

Evelyn nodded, and turned to Vedris and Coarser, who also nodded.

We witnesses hear your oaths, and by our hearing bind them. We recognize you as tenant and landlord. Set your words to these oaths, and be bound, and by these oaths bring forth greater goodness in this land than either could alone.

Ella spoke three words of power, which sealed themselves to the contract. Meline also spoke three words. And the contract was sealed.

“Now,” Ella said, looking up at the moon, “let’s go bind a snake.”

#the fairy tales of ella and meline #tftem #the wild rose #part 3 #chapter 17 #all ages #backyard fantasy #fae #fey #fairies #fairy tales #family #healing #iyashikei #lgbtq+#magic #romance #strong female protagonists #women

2 notes · View notes