by Claire Fogel
He sighed. “Of course you have a right to know about your grandmother.” He gave me a sad smile. “She would love you. Your resemblance to her is truly amazing.”
“Is she small too?”
Smiling, he said, “No. You inherited your size from your mother. My mother is quite tall, like all Elves. You’re like a miniature Rebecca Blackthorne.”
“Rebecca Blackthorne. What a beautiful name. But tell me about her premonitions. I’m really curious. I’d also like to know why you’re so reluctant to talk about them.”
He began running his fingers through his long hair. Finally, he nodded. “My parents were still living here when I met your mother. Elven relationships with humans weren’t uncommon, although my father completely disapproves of them. He’s an extremely rigid and old-fashioned man, still living in the Middle Ages in his mind. Fortunately, my mother is far more open-minded and compassionate. You’d like her.”
“I’m sure I would. But what about her premonitions?”
He ran his hands through his hair again. “My mother knew I was seeing a human girl, and she knew I had given my heart to Alicia. I finally sat down with her, describing your beautiful mother excitedly, and watched my mother’s eyes become sad. She said, ‘I’m sorry, Brian, but this girl will not make you happy. She will give you a wondrous gift and then withhold it from you. It will be many years before you will find happiness.’ I’ve never forgotten her words. My parents left for Scotland a month later.”
I was amazed. My grandmother had really nailed it.
“Her premonition was accurate. Of course, at that time I didn’t believe her. I was convinced it was just another one of my mother’s arbitrary predictions.” He sighed. “It was a few years later before I realized how accurate she’d been.”
I reached out to touch his hand. “You never talk about those years, but when I needed you last spring, you were there.”
Smiling, he squeezed my hand. “Sweetheart, you were worth waiting for.” He added, “And so’s your mother. I haven’t given up on her, you know.”
We shared conspiratorial smiles. “I think you’re making progress.”
“Getting back to your ‘premonition,’, I found one of my mother’s diaries recently. It’s one of the last ones she wrote in before they left for Scotland. I only had time to skim through it, but you might like to read it. Maybe you’ll learn something there.
“By the way, I finally remembered where I heard that tune you keep humming. It was a song my mother would sing occasionally when I was very young. I don’t remember the words, but it’s the same melody. There might be something about it in her diary.”
“Thanks. Maybe it’ll help me get to know my grandmother a little. I’ll read some of it before I go to bed tonight.”
When I looked out the window, it was almost dark, so I knew it was probably the time my father usually went to sleep. We’d been talking for so long, he had to be tired, but when I looked at him, he seemed awake and perfectly content.
“I know it’s late, but you don’t look tired.”
He smiled. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can this week. I’ll have to go into Thornewood once, but this week will be one I hope we’ll always remember. You’re growing up so fast, I feel I’m running out of time to make up for all the father-daughter moments I missed.”
He chuckled. “You have no idea how much I enjoy the talks we have, even though they’re not usually long enough to suit me. Getting to know you over the past few months has been an absolute joy. I couldn’t be any prouder of the young woman you’re becoming. You probably don’t realize it, but everyone in Elvenwood feels the same way. They don’t think of you as a Halfling. You’re simply one of us.”
His words touched me. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
But then he stood up with a grin on his face and said, “I think that apple pie is calling our names. Let’s go finish it off.” So we did, with more tea, and more talk about talented Elves until we were both too tired to stay awake any longer.
Reading my grandmother’s diary would have to wait until tomorrow.
I usually slept well whenever I spent the night at my father’s home, but not that night. I tossed and turned. My subconscious must have been working overtime.
I dreamed of my grandmother that night. Rebecca Blackthorne was a taller, older version of the girl I saw in the mirror every day. In my dream, I was alone in the woods, surrounded by mist. The tall woman walked toward me. “There’s something I have to tell you, dear.”
We walked toward the orchard, hand in hand. She stopped and turned to me. “You will be meeting an old friend of mine soon. Whenever you sing the dragon song, she’ll appear. Her name is Rowenna. She has always been a friend to the Blackthorne women. Please give her my love and tell her I miss her.”
When I turned to ask her what she meant by the dragon song, she had disappeared in the mist.
The dream was still vivid in my mind when I woke the next morning. I would definitely have to find time to read my grandmother’s diary.
I got up, washed and dressed, and found my father already gone. I knew he was still in the village, but I had evidently slept past breakfast. He’d left a plate of muffins and some fruit juice on the table for me with a brief note: “Taking care of some village business this morning. See you at lunch. Love, Dad.”
Remembering that I was supposed to meet Gabriel this morning, I ate quickly and walked outside to find Ian waiting for me across the road. I waved and he came running over, tackling me a bit more gently this time.
“I’m meeting Gabriel to show him the kind of archery I’ve been working on. Want to come?”
“Yes! I can’t wait until I can start training with Gabriel, but I have to wait another year.”
When we reached the practice field, Gabe was practicing while he waited for me. His skill didn’t appear to have been hurt at all during the months since his leg was injured. Ian was clearly impressed, watching Gabe shoot his arrows with such fast precision. When he’d finished his practice, he brought me one of the smaller bows and a pouch of arrows. “Let me see what you’ve been working on.”
Using the grizzly bear as my target, I began aiming carefully for the bear’s arms and knees. At first I concentrated on accuracy rather than speed. Gradually, my shots got faster until I felt I was performing to the best of my ability.
When I finished and went to retrieve my arrows, Gabe was smiling. “I see what you’re doing. Excellent technique. You’ll stop your attacker without killing him, if you’re lucky.” He winked at me. “ You realize this technique wouldn’t have helped you when we were attacked, right?” I closed my eyes briefly, then nodded. He added, “But I think I’ll still add this approach to my classes. Was this Adam’s idea?”
“Yes. If Adam hadn’t come up with this approach, I think I would have given up training altogether.”
He frowned. “I remember how upset you were when I told you that you’d killed that dark Elf.” Looking me in the eye, he said, “I’m glad you didn’t give up. There was nothing else you could have done to save yourself and Ryan. But in a less extreme situation, aiming for knees or hands probably would be effective.”
Ian had been watching, wide-eyed. He turned to Gabe. “Will I be able to shoot as well as Cara?”
“It just takes a lot of practice, Ian.” He smiled and ruffled Ian’s hair. “I’m due at Kathleen’s now. See you at lunch?”
He left for Kathleen’s and I could see he wasn’t even limping. He seemed to be completely recovered, which was a huge relief. Gabriel had had a rough couple of months.
Ian and I walked over to the stable to see Will and the greys. After we’d greeted Will and made the rounds of the beautiful grey horses, we walked back to my father’s cottage. I was anxious to begin reading my grandmother’s diary, so I sent Ian home with a promise to take him with me when I went out to do some drawing later.
In the sitting room, I curled up on the couch with Rebecca
Blackthorne’s diary. Roscoe curled up at my feet. Within minutes he was snoring, which felt just like home.
Reading my grandmother’s diary felt like reading a letter from a friend. Her style of writing was simple and direct. She wrote about the people in her life, her husband, her son, her stepson, and several friends, two of whom I knew—Kathleen and Conor. She described Kathleen as highly intuitive and gifted in the herbal arts, despite being very young. I guessed Kathleen was in her teens when this was written. She spoke fondly of Conor McKay, saying that her son Brian was lucky to have Conor as his closest friend. She also predicted that Conor would be a bachelor for many years, but would be happy in his work. Her prediction about my father’s future didn’t go into detail, but she didn’t believe he would find lasting happiness until he reached middle age. Well, that was accurate. It was hard for me to see my handsome father as middle-aged, but he’d admitted last night that he was now past fifty. Not that he looked as old as forty.
She described my grandfather as “too stubborn for words, but I do love him.” That made me smile. She wrote about other relatives I knew nothing about, but she did say that she wished her stepson, father of my twin cousins, Jason and Justin, could be “more like my beloved Brian, who has brightened every one of my days since he was born.” It sounded like my father’s half-brother had been a thorn in her side for years.
My father walked in, smiling when he saw me curled up on the couch, and I put the diary down. It was fascinating reading, and I felt as though I was actually getting to know my grandmother.
“Ready for lunch?”
I laughed. “You probably heard my stomach growling before you walked in. Are we going to the dining hall for lunch?”
“Yes. I don’t want to make too much extra work for Arlynn and the other cooks, because I planned to have dinner at home tonight. I asked Adam and Jason to join us. Jason was really excited when I told him that I was giving him most of the week off from his normal duties. Your cousin is really looking forward to spending time with you.”
We both washed up and left for the dining hall. As we walked, I started humming that same persistent tune again. My father said, “Now I’m sure. That is the same melody my mother used to sing occasionally. I think she mentioned that it was a favorite of one of her friends, but I don’t know who the friend was.”
“I think I do.” There was a definite look of surprise on his face.
“I had a dream about my grandmother last night. She said that I’d be meeting an old friend of hers. She said her friend would appear whenever I sang the dragon song. I have a feeling that’s the tune that’s been stuck in my head. Do you remember her calling it by that name?”
He shook his head. “No, I never heard her mention a dragon song. There were some old tales of dragons living in the forest hundreds of years ago, but I think it was simply myth. Dragons may have existed a long time ago in Elven lands, but as far as I know, they became extinct long before I was born.”
“But they really did exist at one time?” I asked.
He shrugged with a smile. “It’s hard to tell. I’ve never heard anyone talk about any personal experience with dragons, not even the Elders.” With a laugh, he added, “One more Elven myth from the old days, I guess.”
A few months ago, I’d discovered that some myths were surprisingly real. Based on recent experience, in the Elven world anything was possible.
Inside the dining hall, we sat down with Gabriel and my father asked him about his health. “You gave us all quite a scare, Gabe. Kathleen has been keeping me updated, but I’m happy to see you looking so well.” In a softer voice, he told Gabe he would always be grateful for how well he and Ryan had protected me during the attack we’d experienced in June.
Looking embarrassed, Gabe said, “Cara did an excellent job of protecting herself. Ryan and I are both proud of her.”
Suddenly, I felt a pair of arms being wrapped around my shoulders, almost lifting me out of my seat. I heard a happy voice exclaim, “It’s so good to see you, cousin! Move over a little so I can sit next to you.” I turned around to return Jason’s happy smile. I hadn’t seen him in at least a month.
He still looked more like an angel than an Elf, with his green eyes, perfect features, and black hair curling around his face. It was no wonder he was welcomed everywhere he went. And he was as good-hearted as he was beautiful, unlike his twin who had virtually disappeared after I’d been kidnapped. I had never asked my father what he’d done with Justin; I was just glad he wasn’t around anymore.
“Jason, I hear you play the flute. I hope you’ll play for me while I’m here this week. My father says you play beautifully.”
Naturally, he turned beet red, but he nodded and said, “I’ll do anything you ask. It’s such a treat to have time to spend with you. Your father has been keeping me busy all summer, but I’m actually on what he called ‘vacation’ right now.” He leaned over and whispered, “I’m sure I have you to thank for that.”
“Jason, there’s one more thing I hope you’ll do for me. I’ve been working on a series of what I’m calling ‘Elf drawings.’ I’ve hidden an Elf in each landscape just for fun, and many of your friends have modeled for me. Would you be willing to appear in one of my drawings?”
He grinned. “Of course I would. Your father told me about those drawings, and they sound wonderful. I’ve been looking forward to seeing what you’ve been working on. One day this week we’ll take a picnic out into the apple orchard. I’ll bring my flute, and you can work on your Elf drawings. We’ll make a day of it.”
“Sounds great,” I said, smiling.
Conversation slowed down as we ate thick ham and cheese sandwiches spread with homemade mustard dressing, a butter lettuce and tomato salad, and more apple pie. Since the orchard was now full of ripe apples being picked daily, I was happy that we wouldn’t run out of apple pie any time soon.
I didn’t see Adam at lunch, and then I remembered that he and Garrett were taking their meals in the workshop in order to save time. Whenever I didn’t see Adam, it always seemed as though something was missing. I knew he’d become too important to me, but there really wasn’t anything I could do about those feelings.
After we finished lunch, Jason disappeared to take care of some last-minute chores, and my father said he wanted to visit with several of Elvenwood’s artisans who were already working on orders they’d received for the upcoming holidays. He told me that more than half of the village’s income was earned from filling Christmas orders from the outside world for handmade furniture and other goods. Which, of course, reminded me again that so many Christmas gifts actually were being made by Elves, a fact that delighted me.
I walked back to my father’s cottage, again humming that haunting little melody, to collect both my art supplies and young Ian, who was waiting impatiently on our front step.
“Ian, where else can we go besides the orchard? I’d like to find a different setting for my next drawing.”
“Well, past the orchard is where the West side of the forest begins. You can see mountains from there, and it looks kind of wild, not as pretty as the orchard. I’m not supposed to go that far by myself, but if I’m with you, I don’t think I’ll get in trouble.”
“Do you think it would make a nice picture?” I asked him.
“I think it might look a little scary, but I like the mountains. They turn kind of purple when the sun starts going down.”
That sounded good to me, so we hiked to the orchard and walked through it until we reached the end. The scene beyond the orchard was fascinating. A mixture of tall Pines and ancient apple trees with twisted trunks led us to the edge of the mountains. I could see scrubby pines growing up the sides of the lower mountains, with higher peaks tinged with lavender in the distance. The lower mountains looked climbable, but the taller mountains were too steep, probably only suitable for mountain goats.
The rugged mountain view was one I would definitely draw another time. It was a little too stark
for one of my Elf drawings, so I found a place to sit under one of the tall pines, facing the group of ancient, gnarled apple trees.
“Do you think you can climb that apple tree?” I pointed to the largest of the old trees.
Laughing, Ian shouted, “Sure,” as he ran to the tree and quickly climbed up to one of the higher branches. He was partially hidden by the thick leaves, which was perfect. The only parts of him that were visible were his big smile and his feet hanging from the thick branch he sat on.
“That’s perfect. This will be one of the best Elf drawings I’ve done.” I was sketching as quickly as I could as I spoke to him. I didn’t know how long he’d be comfortable sitting on that branch, and I realized that he was at least fifteen feet above the ground, not the safest place for a six-year-old.
My hands flew over the paper, rushing to get all the important details drawn quickly. I would add the colors and shading once Ian was safely on the ground. I found myself humming that same melody as I worked, thinking only of what I was drawing. I looked up as a large shadow passed overhead, surprised because there didn’t appear to be a cloud in the sky.
I decided that my imagination was working overtime because I thought I heard the word Sing in my mind, spoken in a soft, gravelly voice. I looked around, listening carefully, but heard nothing more.
“Can you climb down now? Carefully, please.” As I watched Ian scramble down the gnarled trunk, I thought the same shadow passed overhead one more time. I looked up, but again saw nothing.
Ian came running back to me, anxious to see the drawing I’d done. I asked him if he’d noticed the shadow that had passed over us twice. He nodded. “Something very big flew over us, but the leaves were in the way and I couldn’t see what it was.”
Something flew over us? “I thought it was a cloud passing overhead. Are you sure it was something flying?”