Iylaine and her cousin agree
“Happy birthday!” she squealed.
“Shhh!” Vash cautioned. “Happy birthday to you, too,” he whispered.
“I knew you would come,” Iylaine whispered excitedly. “I don’t know how I knew, but I knew!”
“I’m surprised you didn’t come out in the day.”
“Oh, were you waiting for me? Malcolm came,” she sighed. “I had to go out with him.”
“It’s no matter. Come,” he said, and he laced his fingers between hers and led her away. “I know a place where no one goes these days.”
“I’m twelve now!” she whispered as they walked.
“I know.”
“And you’re eighteen. And, do you remember? You were twelve when I met you!”
“And could barely reach the brittle boughs!” he sighed.
“What?”
“You only reminded me of an old poem. I can scarcely believe it was six years ago, except when I look at you. You have grown. Even since last summer, I believe.”
“That’s only because you have stopped growing,” she laughed.
“You still have a few more years of growing ahead of you before you catch up with me. Last year your nose came up to my heart, and now…” He stopped their walking and pulled her against him again. “Up to my shoulder, almost. I shall begin to worry when your nose makes it to my chin.”
She giggled. “Why?”
“Because then it has only a little way to go to reach my mouth, and where your nose goes, your lips are sure to follow.”
“What?” she laughed. “I shan’t try to kiss you. You’re my cousin!”
“That doesn’t stop your cousin Malcolm.”
“He never kissed me!” she gasped.
“No, but he would like to. Come along.” He took her hand and led her on, more quickly now.
“He had better not,” she huffed.
He led her in silence to a small clearing that had begun to grow up again with ferns and spindly saplings.
“We should be safe here for a while,” he said as he helped her to sit.
“Why don’t you take me to your cave?”
“Because someone is in my cave tonight.”
“Who?” she asked eagerly. “Uncle Mustache?”
“No,” he smiled. “Not Uncle Mustache.”
“Is it a girl?”
“Is it a girl?” he repeated with a laugh. “You don’t want to kiss me, but you don’t want anyone else to, either.”
“It isn’t that,” she blushed. “I only wondered who it was.”
“It is not a girl, dear cousin. It is my cousin Kiv, who is also your cousin, by the way. And my dearest friend.”
“Is he nice?”
“Would he be my friend if he weren’t?”
“Does he know about me?”
“He doesn’t know I’m with you tonight, if that’s what you’re wondering. I don’t trust even my dearest friend with that knowledge.”
“Oh, neither would I!”
“Who is your dearest friend? Malcolm?”
“Oh. I don’t know. I suppose so.”
She wished she could tell him that he was – but she could not, now that he had told her his dearest friend was someone else.
“You seem to like to spend your time alone, though,” he observed.
“I know,” she sighed. “I don’t know why. I don’t like to be around the people. I like the people at the castle, but I could never get outside or be alone. I can get out when I stay with Gunnie, so that’s why I asked to stay there. But Wynna and her friends are always there, and they’re so mean to me.”
“They are? What do they do to you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. They make fun of me because I used to live in a castle, and they think it makes me proud. And because my friends are mostly boys, they say I do things with them that I shouldn’t – and it is not true! And of course they make jokes about my ears as everyone does.”
“Is that why you still wear your hair down?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I could simply cut it off, or at least wear it up. Because if I wear it down, people are always trying to peek around my hair anyway to see my ears. Especially people who have never seen me before. And sometimes they simply ask me to show them my ears, and I hate that.”
“I’m glad you told me! I was about to ask you to show me.”
She stuck out her tongue and lifted the ends of her hair to show off her ears.
“That’s much prettier that way. Especially with the tongue.”
She laughed and let her hair drop. “I don’t mind showing you.”
“Why don’t you let me put it up for you?”
“You?” she giggled. “You’re not my maid!”
“Your maid? Certainly not. I am an elf, and I shall have you know that we elves find it an honor when a lady allows us to braid her hair. Touching the hair of a lady is not a task for a maid.”
“Truly? Do the ladies have the men braid their hair, instead of their maids?”
“The girls have their mothers do it for them, or else their brothers when their brothers are learning. The men know all of the most elaborate braids, and we don’t teach the ladies. We learn from our fathers. And when the girls are grown into ladies, they have their husbands do it for them.”
“Truly?” she gasped. “Do you have any sisters?”
“No, I learned on my mother’s hair. But it means I’m not terribly good at it, because she died when I was young. Only the little girls let me do their hair now,” he smiled. “The ladies would never put up with me.”
“You could practice on me.”
“That is precisely what I was hoping to hear,” he grinned.
He got up and came to sit behind her, and suddenly his fingers were in her hair.
She never had the maids braid her hair, and ever since she was old enough to comb the tangles out herself, her hair had scarcely been touched by anyone else. It was a strange thing to feel his hands all over her head, and his fingers brushing the tips of her ears, and the gentle tugs that set her head rocking on her neck but never hurt.
“It’s not very long,” he said after a while. “There isn’t much one can do with it. You ought to let it grow.”
“I shall, if you like.”
He snorted. “Is it always so easy to get you to do things? I should think not.”
“For you it is, cousin.”
“Oh, I shall remember you said that the next time I ask you to do something you don’t like.”
“It would be better if you ask me to do things I do like,” she giggled.
He held her head between his hands and leaned his own closer to her ear. “Would you like to hold still so I can finish your hair? Cousin?”
“Aye,” she said, giggling in spite of herself.
He let go of her head and waited a moment, but she only laughed harder.
“I’m sorry! I can’t help it!”
“I shouldn’t ask you to stop,” he sighed. “You sound like a happy girl.”
“I am now… cousin!” she squealed.
“And I have something to tell you that should stop your laughing, and I would like to get it over with so we can talk about pleasant things again. Do you mind?”
“Something bad?” she asked, sobering at once. Would he tell her she could not see him again for a very long time? And already these nine months had seemed an aching eternity!
“Something bad, yes. There now, hold still and I shall finish your hair and tell you. Do you remember a night last winter when you might have awoken feeling sick and frightened, and you didn’t know why?”
“Oh… how did you know? I had such a nightmare… I was screaming and screaming, and I wouldn’t stop till my Da came.”
“That’s right. The reason you were frightened was not a nightmare. Your mother died that night.”
“My elf mother?”
“Yes.”
Iylaine did not know what to make of this news. Every thought that went towards her elf mother had always been immediately yanked back into familiar courses. She only permitted herself to think that she had come so far without a mother that it would be of no use now if her mother were suddenly to present herself. It was her mother’s fault that she had had no mother. It was her mother’s fault that she belonged to no one. Her Da was not perfect, but he was far, far better than such mothers as she had had. And yet she had always known that someday, perhaps…
“All done,” Vash said softly and patted the sides of her head.
“How did she die?”
“She was suddenly ill. There was nothing we could do for her.”
“How did I know she died?” she asked after a while.
“Because she is your mother. I am certain her last thoughts were for you.”
After another pause she asked, “What was her name? You never told me.”
“Lira.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means simply ‘air’. It is a very ancient name.”
“What was she like?”
“She was very kind and funny. She liked to make everyone laugh.”
“Is my father still alive?”
“Yes. His name is Pol. It means ‘rock’. He is very big and tall, with a long beard. And he likes to talk and talk and talk until you wish your ears would fall off.”
She wanted to continue talking calmly. She wanted to show that she was not disturbed by this conversation. Instead she sobbed, “Don’t let him take me away!”
“Iylaine!” he gasped. “Nobody shall take you anywhere.” He laid an arm over her shoulder and pulled her back against his chest. “You shall go where you please.”
“He hurt my Da! And he took his baby away, and my Da still cries over his little baby, and my Mama died because of it!”
“Shhh…”
“I don’t like him, and I don’t care that my mother died. So there! Now let’s talk about something pleasant like you said,” she pouted.
He sighed. “Very well. How’s this? I can’t see your face, but I am certain you are very pretty with your hair up. Your ears are adorable from here.”
“They are?”
“They are the tiniest little ears I have seen since my mother died.”
“Is that good?”
“A lady always wants to have tiny ears, tiny hands, and tiny feet. Let me see your hand.” He stroked his hand down the length of hers. “I proclaim it tiny.”
“And my feet?” she giggled and held one foot up in the air.
“I can’t reach it from here unless I fold you in half, but it looks small to me.”
“And you? You have big hands.”
“I do?” he asked, inspecting them.
“Well, they are long, like Alwy’s. Not big like my Da’s. My Da can hide a baby kitten in his hands, they are so big.”
“I’m certain that’s one of his favorite things to do,” Vash laughed. She could feel his laugh rumbling in his chest against her back, and she sat up, surprised by it. There was a time when her father had held her in her lap and laughed like that… but it was long ago, and she seemed to have forgotten how it felt.
“Oh, no, he hates cats,” she said quickly.
“I rather thought so.”
“Oh! What are you doing?” she asked when she felt a hot pressure at the back of her head.
Her hand went up to touch her hair, but he caught it in his. “I’m only smelling your hair,” he said softly. “I was wondering what was that flower that was blooming so early in the year and so late in the night, but it seems it was your hair. It’s a shame, as I was hoping to take it with me and plant it outside my door, but I suppose I must leave it where I found it, as it’s the only one of its kind.”
“I’m not a flower!” she laughed.
“If it were not so late, we would ask the bees. I’m not convinced.”
“Oh, pish!”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh, that’s just what Gunnie says when someone is telling her nonsense.”
He laughed. “Does your Gunnie laugh at poetry, too?”
“She does whenever His Grace tells her some. But he only tells her silly ones about how her hair is like a flock of goats.”
“Oh! The Song of Songs.”
“How did you know what he calls it?”
“Because it’s in your Bible.”
“How did you know that?”
“Because I have read it, silly girl. ‘Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair.’”
“You know how to read?”
“Yes.”
“How did you learn?”
“That’s enough questions for now.” He patted the braid at the back of her head and said, “It’s a shame you will have to take this out before you go home to your Gunnie. I did it rather well. It looks almost like a flock of goats.”
“You aren’t going already?” she cried.
“Not quite yet. But I have my eye on the moon, and it’s rising more quickly than I would like. Don’t forget that Kiv is waiting for me.”
“Ohhhh,” she whined. “When shall I see you again? At Midsummer?”
He sighed. “I don’t think we should.”
“Oh! Why?”
“It’s a dangerous night. There’s too much magic in the air. You never know what will happen. And, I’m not certain, but I believe Uncle Mustache is suspicious. I hope you will stay away that night.”
“But when?”
He rested his chin on her shoulder, but he said nothing.
“When?” she asked again after a while.
“Shh! I’m thinking.”
She sighed and looked up at the moon. It was steadily rising, and they weren’t speaking, and soon he would have to go. Their time together was never long enough.
“I don’t know when I shall be able to see you again,” he said. “But here is what we might do. Do you know the trees well?”
“Which trees?”
“The trees around here. In the forests around your home.”
“Aye.”
“Do you know the old willow with three heavy branches that stands alongside the brook that goes through the birch grove behind your Duke’s stable? The one that’s upstream of the grove, but before you reach the little waterfall?”
Iylaine gaped.
“You don’t think like an elf, do you?” he chuckled.
“Wait – ” she said, annoyed that he should think so. “I’m simply walking up the brook in my mind.”
“Oh! Don’t stop to dabble your feet, please. We haven’t much time.”
“Whisht!”
“This willow has a big hollow in it on the side facing away from the brook. Big enough for a vixen to sleep in it with her kits.”
“Oh! I see the one you mean.”
“Very good! Now, when I go home tonight, I shall find a round stone – let us say a black stone – and put it in the hollow. And whenever you come to the tree, you shall take the stone out and leave it on the ground between the roots, just below the hollow. And whenever I come, I shall put it back. And thus whenever you find the stone in the hollow, you will know that I have been near and have been thinking of you, and whenever I find it on the ground I shall know that you have been. Do you agree? Just like in the story.”
“What story?”
“An elf story, that I shall tell you another time. Shall we do so?”
“Aye,” she said softly. “But I would rather see you.”
He hesitated, and then he took a deep breath as if he had come to a decision.
“There’s more to the story, though,” he said. “If you find a pink stone in place of the black stone, then you shall know that I want to see you, and you should try to get out to find me. And if you ever need me – urgently, I mean, Iylaine – you should put a pink stone on the ground instead of the black. But if I find out you did it because you missed me, I shall be very, very angry,” he warned.
“But what if I miss you urgently?” she giggled.
“Not unless you come to the realization that you can’t live without me.”
“What if I do?” she laughed.
“Then leave a pink stone, and I shall come to you.”
