Iylaine leaned into the corner of the stuffy tower room. She looked at her hands, tinted green by the light that came in through the colored glass of the windows, and tried to remember the color they had when she sat beneath the trees, and the light had come filtering through the leaves. It was too green here. She thought the windows should rather be blue, but the Duke liked green. She would remember to look at her hands the next time she went to the King’s castle – the windows in the nursery were blue.
But more wrong than the light was the air. There was no breeze at all, and the July sun falling on the wooden roof made the air get hotter and hotter as the morning wore on, and it seemed as if the room were getting more and more tightly filled with air. She thought that if she stayed here much longer, she would suffocate, or be crushed.
But no one would bother her here. She could sit, hunched over her stomachache, and she could be alone, and she could think. Gwynn couldn’t climb the ladder to reach this room, and she knew the boys were all out with the Duke and her Da, and the Duchess never remembered her during the day. So despite the heat and the air and the sickening light, she would stay here.
But then a slight breeze blew across her, and someone stepped through the door he had silently opened. She cringed down into her corner and looked up.
It was Alwy. “Hallo, Baby,” he said in his soft voice. “Can I sit with you?”
“I guess so.”
He came to sit before her, smiling tenderly, as he did at his lambs.
“How did you find me?” she asked. Alwy was not well acquainted with the private areas of the castle.
“Bertie told me you come up here sometimes. I guess you’re up above the trees in here.”
“You can’t really see them through the colored glass.”
“That may be. I guess the light’s real pretty though.”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged.
“What do you like to do up here, Baby?”
“I think about things.”
“When I want to think about things, I like to go up in the loft. But I guess a tower is a fine place to think, too. But you got kittens in the loft, so I don’t know but I guess I prefer my old loft.”
“Do you have kittens now?”
“We got more kits than cats, that’s for sure. Why don’t you come see ‘em sometimes, Baby?”
“I don’t know.”
“I guess maybe you’re real busy thinking.”
“I guess so.”
“Do you ever have a hard time thinking of something to think about?”
“No,” she giggled.
“I do,” he sighed. “Sometimes I spend so much time thinking of something to think about, that I got to get back to work before I even get a chance to think about it. That’s why, if I know I don’t have much time, I just think about my kids. That gives me plenty to think about, ’cause I got five of ‘em now, plus you. That makes six. And just now I was thinking about you.”
“What about?”
“Well, I been needing to cut some pups’ ears, and I ‘membered how you wanted me to cut your ears one time, and I come to ask if you still want me to do that, and if I can’t just do all of you together.”
“You would do that?”
“Well, I don’t know. I guess I would think it’s a real shame, ’cause your ears aren’t floppy like the pups’ ears, and they’re real pretty too. But I guess maybe you’re tired of being an elf, and you want to be just a plain old girl like everyone else. Don’t you ever feel that way?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes I wish I was just a plain old man. Don’t you wish I was?”
“A plain old man like how?”
“A plain old man, like, let’s say, Ethelmund. Don’t you like Ethelmund better than me, ’cause he’s so clever?”
“No! I like you better than just about any man, except my Da.”
“But I’m so dull.”
“But you’re so nice and good. Other men aren’t like that, except my Da. And sometimes he gets mad and yells a lot and slams the door, and you never do.”
“I wonder if I would be like that if I was clever too.”
“I don’t know. I’m clever and I do that too. So maybe you would.”
“Well, I don’t know. I guess I wouldn’t be me if I was clever. Maybe you wouldn’t be you if you wasn’t an elf with pointed ears. Did you ever wonder that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sometimes I still wish I was a clever man, though. The other men laugh at me sometimes, when I go to the smith or to the mill.”
“Why don’t you just hit ‘em? You’re bigger than most of the men, except maybe the smith.”
“That wouldn’t make ‘em like me, though.”
“That’s true.”
“But I don’t know, I guess I’m still happy even though I’m not clever. When you get to be growed up, the things that bothered you when you were small don’t bother you so much any more. You learn how to live with ‘em, or else you learn that they weren’t so important after all. But I sure had a hard time when I was a kid.”
“How come?”
“Well, the kids all used to pick on me ’cause I was simple, all except your Da ’cause he was a good boy even though he was bad. Well, really they just picked on me ’cause I was different, not ‘specially ’cause I was simple. If I had purple hair or three noses, they would have picked on me too.”
Iylaine giggled.
“I wonder if they would have picked on me if I had pointed ears instead?”
“I guess they would have, ’cause they pick on me, and I do.”
“They do?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Well, Baby, I guess that just proves that kids pick on kids ’cause they’re different, not ’cause they’re ugly or dumb. ‘Cause your ears are real pretty, and they pick on you anyway.”
“What did you do so they wouldn’t pick on you any more?”
“Well, they never did stop, and they still do today, some of ‘em. But I guess I just didn’t pay any attention to ‘em anymore after I got too big and strong for them to hurt me. After that, they just called me names, but I guess I don’t care about that any more. If nobody liked me, I guess I would think something was wrong with me, but I guess some people do, like Gunnie and you and your Da, so I guess there’s something good about me after all. So what those other people say doesn’t bother me. And some of ‘em get bored with calling you names if you don’t care about it, and they stop by themselves.”
“But I can’t get big and strong. I’m only a girl. What did you do when you were still little?”
“Well, that’s more harder. When I was smaller, I guess I stuck with my brothers, ’cause they were bigger than me and they could protect me. You might try that. I guess Bertie is almost like your brother, and young Malcolm is your cousin, and I guess these young lordships like you a lot, and they all know how to fight, too, so I bet the other boys will leave ‘em alone.”
“But they don’t like to play with me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Baby. You got to ‘member one thing: when those boys call you names and say they don’t want to play with you, that’s ’cause they like you. You know how I know? ‘Cause as soon as there is some other boy that says anything against you, all of ‘em stand behind you and make that boy take it back. They think they’re the only boys in the world as have the right to call you names, and that’s ’cause you’re one of them.”
“But they’re boys and I’m an elf.”
“That don’t matter. You’re still one of them. You hear all the dreadful names they call each other! They’re just boys, so they don’t know how to say they like you, so they call you names.”
“That’s what Malcolm said,” she giggled. “He said I should worry if he starts being nice to me, ’cause that means he doesn’t like me any more.”
“That’s right, Baby. You got boys all figured out now. And what else? Sometime if you ever are alone, and some kids start to pick on you, I guess that’s real hard, but remember this: the only part of you that they can really hurt is the outside part, and that isn’t so important, ’cause that feels better after a while. The inside part is what’s important, ’cause they’re going to try to make it so you don’t like yourself, and that’s why they call you mean names. But that can only hurt you if you let it.”
“How come?”
“Well, say they might try to make it so you don’t like yourself ’cause you’re an elf, or me ’cause I’m simple. And that’s real bad ’cause that keeps on hurting after the boys go away. I know. That hurts more than when they hit you, don’t it?”
“I guess so.”
“So that’s where you got to say, ‘You’re wrong.’ If those things they said were true, then who would love you and who would love me? But Gunnie loves you and me, and your Da does, and I guess you and me love you and me too. So they’re wrong. Those things can only hurt you if you believe they’re true, but I tell you they’re wrong. And you know they’re wrong, too, don’t you?” he asked, leaning close to her and taking her hand in his long, slender fingers.
“I guess so.”
“So don’t let it bother you. Just stay away from them boys as much as you can, and play with your own boys. And when your young cousin Malcolm calls you Spiteface, you just tell yourself that he’s telling you how pretty you are, ’cause you are too, and when Bertie calls you Beetlebrain it’s ’cause you’re so clever.”
She laughed. “How did you know they call me that?”
“I got ears, even if they aren’t so pretty as yours.”
“I guess my ears are probably real pretty for elf ears.”
“I guess they are too. I guess it would be too much of a shame to cut ‘em. Well, maybe you will come see my kittens instead? I was hoping you would come today, but I would rather play with some kittens than cut anybody’s ears, pups or elves.”
“I guess I would, too.”
“Helpie up?” he asked, as he used to ask when he played on the floor with the tiny girl she had been. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she used to do, and he pulled her up as he stood to his great height, and held her with her feet dangling far above the floor.
Chapters
For being simple-minded man, Alwy is very smart.