Lady Gwynn talks with a big girl

Lady Gwynn was officially twelve, and though she liked to think she was a big girl now, she had to admit herself something lacking. For evidence she had only to look at Cat’s pre-​​party primping before the mirror. Her dress floated, her hair bounced, and her graceful arm left a trail of perfume as it passed through the air. Cat was a true big girl of the most fascinating variety.

Gwynn could bounce – though her hair didn’t – but she could not imitate the gestures of Cat’s body no matter how much time she spent practicing before her mirror.

There was also the matter of the dress, and though Gwynn’s party gown issued from the hands of the same dressmaker as the Princess’s, there seemed to be something wrong with hers. Neither dress floated, but at least Britamund’s swept. Gwynn’s only flounced.

Furthermore, while Cat’s and Britamund’s dresses brought out some rather elegant curves, Gwynn found she only looked rather bumpy in hers. Worst of all, Lady Estrid had pinched her yesterday at Britamund’s party and told her she was becoming a delicious little dumpling, just like her mother. Ordinarily Gwynn appreciated any comment comparing her to her mother, but she did not think a bumpy dumpling was what she wanted to be. Her mother had at least been a dumpling with curves.

As interested as she was in gowns and grace, however, Gwynn knew that the most important difference between big girls and little girls was romance. She had been somewhat deprived of that mystical element since her beloved Iylaine had married and become a mother, putting all thoughts of her elven suitor behind. Now, though, the air was simply sparkling with it.

She had asked her stepmother to invite Mouse to her birthday party, since she knew that Ethelwyn was attending. Theirs was a story so romantic that she almost wished she could concentrate on it for a while and save the others to animate some later, less romantic period.

As for Flann, Gwynn had also requested the presence of the King’s shy steward Ralf, for she was certain he had been paying marked attention to Flann the evening before. Flann, meanwhile, seemed to have a preference for Ethelwyn himself, but since Gwynn was certain that Ethelwyn and Mouse would find one another in the end, that only set up a tragic little disappointment for Flann. A gentle man such as Ralf would be just what she needed then.

But it was Cat who wore the crown of fascination in Gwynn’s eyes. Cat had remained strangely immune to the attentions of stewards one and all, and Gwynn believed she knew why. Cat was in love with an elf.

Gwynn had never forgotten the two elves she had known, though she had only known them for the space of a quarter hour over a year before. She had the delicacy to leave broken-​​hearted Vash out of her dreams, but the mysterious elf Kiv had already come to her rescue many times. He had already crossed insurmountable obstacles and defeated unbeatable foes to prove he loved her, even if he sometimes only expired at her feet at the end of his trials.

As romantic as it was to imagine handsome, violet-​​eyed knights performing these feats for her sake, it was infinitely more romantic to dream of an elf, and not just any elf, but a real elf whom she had met, and who therefore could–possibly–one day make her dreams come true.

Gwynn knew nothing about Cat’s blind elf except what her father had told her. But she was clever enough to ask her father about him after dinner, when the afternoon was at its hottest, and when he had drunk a little too much wine, and was doubly sleepy therefore. Then, if she curled up against him on the couch – and here being a dumpling was something of an advantage – and called him Papa and kissed his scratchy cheek, then sometimes he would tell her whatever she wanted to know.

Her father had been greatly affected by the plight of the elf. Gwynn loved to hear how the blind creature had trusted and loved Cat enough to follow her into a hostile castle to save the life of a man he didn’t know. She loved to hear how Cat had fought to defend him against her raging cousin, and how the elf had tried to defend her as well.

Gwynn thought it beautifully fitting that he had put out the candles and made all of them as blind as he, and even more beautiful that he and Cat had found one another in the dark and stood together until Egelric had ripped her from his arms. Then he had been chased out into the night, blind and defenseless into a forest full of men and dogs. Her father had tried to follow him out, but none knew what had become of him. It was no wonder Cat spoke so little these days.

Gwynn was certain that there were prior romantic episodes to this story, but those her father could not tell her. This was what she wanted to hear.

“It’s so sad about Mouse and Wyn,” she sighed.

“Aye.”

“If only he could remember!”

“Perhaps he will.”

“I am certain he could. I am certain his memories are still in there. He simply needs someone to make them come out again.”

“I tell him he ought to let me smack his head with the churn staff, but he never will.”

Gwynn giggled. “That might make him stupid, and that won’t help. We need someone to make the memories come out again. Do you suppose an elf could do that?”

“Ach! I have no idea.”

“Don’t you know?”

Cat lifted the hair at the sides of her face to see how it would look pinned up. “I’m no elf. You should ask your friend Lady Iylaine.”

“She doesn’t know about being an elf. I need a real elf who knows elven ways.”

Cat lifted all of her hair and twisted it into a temporary knot atop her head.

“Can’t you ask your elf, Cat?” Gwynn asked timidly.

Cat let her hair fall. “I haven’t an elf, darling. Wulf means to give me one of his dog’s puppies when it’s older, though.”

“You know whom I mean! Your friend? The blind elf?”

“He never was my friend.”

“He wasn’t?” Gwynn cried. “But I thought…”

“He helped my hand when I was hurt, and so I thought of him when Wyn was in trouble. But he’s not the friend of me.”

“But why would he help you if he is not?”

“I don’t know.” Cat yanked all of her hair back from her face into a ponytail behind her head. “Perhaps it amused him.”

“But it was dangerous for him! Blind!”

“Even blind I think the elves are stronger than we.” Cat let her hair fall again and turned away from the mirror at last. “You don’t understand, darling. They look down on us, as we might look down on cats or dogs. You might love your kittens, but they’re not your friends.”

“But… Egelric and Vash are friends. Somehow…”

“I don’t know about that.” Cat turned away again, seemingly only to survey her neatly-​​made bed. “Perhaps men and elf-​​men can be friends. Not women.”

“Why not?” Gwynn whined. “Egelric and Sela loved one another very much.”

“And the rest of the elves think it a – a – ” She whirled around to face Gwynn, and her dress floated, and her hair bounced, and her body moved with feline grace – all to reveal the flaring eyes of a tigress. “An abomination!”

“Did he say so?” Gwynn gasped.

“Aye, he said so! The devil!” Cat smacked her hands together and flicked them at the air in some Gaelic gesture of cursing or warding against curses.

“I think Kiv thinks so, too,” Gwynn said softly.

“Who’s Kiv?”

“Kiv is Vash’s friend. Do you know Vash?”

“I know who he is.”

“Kiv is his friend. He came with him when they came to speak to Iylaine. I saw him.” Gwynn smiled and sighed. “He was so handsome! His eyes were blue, but somehow they seemed so dark, too. And mysterious!”

Cat snorted. “I shan’t deny they’re handsome creatures, but I think it only makes them more insufferable.”

“But don’t you like him?”

“Like him? As a cat likes its keeper, which is to say, not at all!”

Gwynn’s lip quivered in disappointment. There was only one explanation that could redeem this romance. “Did you quarrel?”

“Quarrel!”

“Because he said it would be an abomination if he loved you?”

“He – he never said anything about love at all, you poor, pretty, romantic girlie. He doesn’t care a fig for me. He was talking about babies. Wulf and Gils and Duncan – as if they aren’t the sweetest babies beneath the heavens!” Cat tossed back her bouncing hair and snapped the fingers of both hands at the sky. “There are your abominations for you!”

“But elves and people are just the same, except for the ears.”

“Oh ho! Try saying that to an elf, and watch what happens!”

“Did you?”

“That I did! He nearly threw a pile of burning leaves in my face, to show me the difference!”

“No!” Gwynn leapt from her seat.

“That he did! The devil!”

Gwynn’s shoulders slumped, making her look bumpier and more dumpling-​​like than ever. “Kiv said it was disgusting that Iylaine and Malcolm were married together as elves, by cutting their hands and mixing their blood,” she mumbled. “But I don’t think so.”

“I find it barbaric anyway,” Cat muttered. “I would never.”

“I find it romantic,” Gwynn said. “Joining their blood together. It is like joining their souls together.”

Cat snorted. “Joining something together is the only thing the men – and I daresay the elves – care about, but it’s neither souls nor blood, darling, and let that be a warning to you.”

Gwynn wrinkled her nose, though she was secretly pleased with herself for having understood Cat’s meaning. “I find that rather barbaric, myself.”

Cat tittered, and Gwynn flushed in anger. She knew it for the laugh of a big girl laughing at a little girl.

“Well, I think that even if women and elves are different, they can still love one another. Egelric and Sela did, and Iylaine and Malcolm do. And I think Kiv and your elf would change their minds if they ever fell in love with a woman.”

“The next time you see your friend Kiv, you ought to tell him so and see what he throws in your face,” Cat smirked.

“I shall! I’m not afraid. I think they’re truly gentle-​​elves, even if they are sometimes rude without knowing it. Vash was very gracious and kind. Perhaps elves throw flaming leaves at one another all the time. Perhaps it means he likes you,” she giggled, “as when boys pull one’s hair.”

“Lord preserve me from elves who like me!”

“You simply need to explain to him that men do not court ladies in that fashion. He won’t wish to hurt you if he loves you.”

“He doesn’t love me, darling,” Cat sighed.

“I think he does, a little, or he wouldn’t have helped you. I think that he and Kiv simply need to realize that they have been wrong, and I think that all it will take will be for them to fall in love with some lady.”

“As long as it’s not the same lady,” Cat cackled. “It’s burnt to a crisp she’ll be!”