Created By

earindle

Rate this Story

Embed

Winter has drifted into spring, spring into summer and I am still here, in Menila, and it feels as if I’ve lived here for years! The work is so hard and very different from the country. The days seem to last forever and I wonder if I’ll ever sleep. I mustn’t complain, at least I’ve found a shelter and work. The Lady of the house took me because she was in need of another maid. She was nice to me when I arrived at her door but now all she does is give orders and yell if I don’t clean her room fast enough. I tire myself out, work as hard as I can, but for what? For merely a few pennies a day and breadcrumbs for dinner. Oh, she promised shelter and good food. Well all I can say is that shelter is a roof and a straw bed and that good food is meat on Sundays, nothing more unless you can afford it.

I really hate it here. Sometimes, I just want to run away, and go back to the countryside. But where would I go? I had a lot of luck of finding somewhere to stay; no one would want an inexperienced, orphaned, fourteen year old girl. I am so miserable here, even though I try not to think of my lost family, but I have no friends here, all are grouchy old women… I don’t even have free time while the others do, they say it’s because I’m knew. I think it’s because they don’t want to work.

So my new life here in Menila can be resumed like this: I’m stuck inside all day long, I work from before dawn till after supper, live on cleaning my Lady’s room, and eat nothing. One other thing I’ve found out, I’ve become extremely sour, nobody can talk to me without being bitten!

This week, however, has started a bit differently. I have changed post. Not for long, though, just for a period of a few months and that is when Martha will have given birth to her seventh or so child. But I should feel happy as I work outside now, in the orchards, picking cherries all day long as well as other fruits. At least I’m away from the household, the buster of the city and back to the calm of the fields. I believe I have more freedom here because nobody is on my back except the cook at the end of the day. I don’t have anyone yelling or mocking me behind my back anymore and I can rest whenever I want. Also I now have a lunch based on fruit! Sometimes I steal one to eat in secret after everyone has gone to bed.

********

Today my Lady has given me the day off. My mistress has me work on public holidays, never one day off, but today, a normal working day, she has resolved to let me off. In fact, I never thought she would; her welcoming smile that said, “Yes, you will have a lot of liberty” had rapidly been replaced by a sneer saying, “What did you think?” and “You’d better work.”. I have been fooled by the hypocrisy of Menila. I am extremely grateful, however, because for once I could sleep in late while the others worked around the house. I didn’t stay inside for long though, as my “fellow” colleagues were eying me badly. Instead I headed quickly towards the orchards, grabbed a few cherries and headed for Darlock Forest. I have decided to spend my day with the peace of nature, away from the business of the city. In the forest, I knew I would find the tranquillity and fresh air that I was longing for.

I have been walking for a while now along a small stream. The forest is not so dark here at its entrance but I won’t venture too far in, for fear of getting lost. Anyway, there’s a lot of light here and the reflection of the trees and flowerbeds in the water makes me feel as if I am in a painting. This year, summer is quite hot but the shade of the trees keeps the temperature cool and I can walk at my ease. All the while, I eat my few cherries and listen to the beautiful birds’ songs. Memories of happy times with my parents invade my consciousness, and a sentiment of melancholy changes this peaceful atmosphere into a dark, unbearable, moment. My eyes start to blur and I am forced to halt. I cry, head in my knees, not able to stop myself.

 A cool wind disturbs my reminiscences. I dry my tears and lift my face. I do not know for how long I’ve been crying, but the sky has changed to mirror my state. I should be heading home now, dusk is falling and it will be raining soon. As I head towards our dwelling, the wind gets stronger and prevents me from continuing. I try to find a shelter for until the storm breaks when all of the sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I see a great burst of light; millions of multicolour points fill the air like the many pieces of stained glass in the sun. As I approach the source, I start to hear the flutter of many wings and the low buzzing of voices. I stare and what I see surprises me so much that I fall backwards almost revealing myself. Down in the opening, where the trees part to leave place for flowers and toadstools, are gathered hundreds of little creatures: Faeries.

Many are leaving, however, and I hide myself careful not to be seen. I close my eyes, thinking that this is only a dream, but when I open them again and peek into the clearing, two men are conversing in hushed voices. Their clothing is extremely colourful and seems to made of flowers and leaves. Their wings, so light and transparent, can barely be seen, and anyone passing quickly could mistake the Faeries for butterflies. Yet, when looking closely, I can see that they are not that small, just a few inches less than us. It is just that to the eye of any mortal being these creatures look very little. Maybe I am an exception because in all of the stories that I’ve heard Faeries have always been small. I wonder if this has anything to do with my peculiar reaction to fire.

I crawl in closer and strain to hear the Faeries’ conversation. I know this is very impolite but this also a very important case. Who knows what I might find out? Maybe answers to that terrible fire, who attacked, and why I was untouched. Maybe answers to my mother’s odd statements…

“-I wonder Quinsle, if the Queen even thought about what she said. Who could avoid a war?

-That’s what I’ve been trying to say. The girl will never find her way alone. I am afraid that evil is already after her and that the Brewin knows, whatever our Queen Enrëhel says. Why did this Witch ever punish that Dragon by transforming her into a poor Human girl…

-It wasn’t supposed to end up that way. And it was nearly a century ago. Maybe that girl isn’t even her daughter. I mean how could she be anyway? Isn’t Merindle a Dragon now?

-Shush, do not speak her name, Renshod, we should not be speaking of this, remember? Merindle, since she killed her own Dragon mother, was banned to transform for two weeks every month back into a Human. But then, she fell pregnant to one of the mortal kind. The poor man died shortly after she told him that she was a Dragon. Meanwhile, the Witch came back to tell her that if her child be born while she was a Dragon then the baby would be one too. But if the child be born while she was Human, it would be a girl and she would be condemned to live the same life as her mother.

-And that’s what happened…

-Yes, and if she’s condemned to live the exact same life then we will be living history again. But Queen Enrëhel was right when she said it, we are the only specie to know about what will happen. No Elf or Dwarf is aware of this and even the girl does not know what danger awaits her.”

At this, the two Faeries parted leaving me dumbstruck about what had been said. Could this be true, that a half Dragon existed? I had never heard of any but anyway, mother never wanted me to listen to those stories. Now that I come to think of it, mother knew; “the world is changing, history is repeating itself, and Alienor, you will be sixteen before you know it.” That mysterious phrase, unsolved, and even more vague and ambiguous after what I have just learnt…

I start walking again. All that happened this morning and nearly an hour ago seems so far away, as if a whole life had separated both moments. Dusk has fallen and it starts to rain. A sentence from one of the village’s songs comes to my mind:

“Raindrops like tears,

Gently fall down

There isn’t but a sound

For no living soul suspects…”

That’s exactly how I feel. The raindrops on my face remind me of my earlier tears. No one was there to see me in such wretchedness except for the birds that sung their hearts. Now too, none is here beside me, nature has gone to sleep, and I have a terrible secret I must keep no matter what. The song is true; no living soul suspects what is to come…

Earindle