Ellanor and the Search for Organoth Blue Amber

by K T Durham

  Elly didn’t want to think what she could have for supper. “Erm, yes. I’ll eat with my guardian,” she said softly, wishing she could be at the dining table with her family. She wanted sweet cakes with her favourite leafy greens and Mama’s freshly baked bread rolls.

  Mabel felt sorry for her and wondered if her parents often leave her alone with her guardian. “All right then, dear. Call us whenever you need to, okay?”

  As Mabel waved goodbye to her, a lump formed in Elly’s throat, and tears burned her eyes.

  “Bye, Elly!” called out Lily, waving furiously. “See you again soon!”

  Elly wasn’t sure if she would really get to see Lily again. But if she was still stranded here on the twenty-eighth, she would definitely go to the school fair with her.

  She started walking away quickly, hoping they wouldn’t insist on escorting her. She turned a corner and was out of sight.

  Elly pulled the coat tighter around herself as the icy wind whispered down the street. She probably would’ve eventually frozen to death without these extra layers. She looked up at the dark, murky sky. If only she could get a glimpse of the Star of Freya…

  Eventually, she found her way back to the Berry Grove Park. She had nowhere else to go to spend the night. It was dark and deserted. People were either heading home for supper, trooping downtown to restaurants, or going for after-work drinks at the pubs. She looked around to make sure that the coast was clear, then leapt up the tree and settled on a high, sturdy branch. Then she retrieved the little dictionary from her pocket and opened up her Royan.

  Greymore, please store this dictionary for me. You’ll be able to access the words and definitions if I need them, right?

  Yes, Ellanor. It was good thinking on your part to obtain a dictionary. You will come across words and situations you may not understand. The dictionary might be able to assist you.

  After transforming herself back into elf proportions, she opened up the paper bag Mabel had given her and smiled. Inside were an apple, a pineapple bun, and a bottle of water. How kind of Mabel! She leaned back against the trunk and closed her eyes. It was only then that she realized how utterly exhausted she was.

  Within the same day, she had discovered Edellina as a false friend and goblin impersonator; been literally shoved out of her own world into another; almost gotten herself killed by a jealous cat; and finally, she had had to learn to masquerade as a human. Of course she was worn out. She had experienced more in one day than she had in all her twelve years put together.

  Greymore rumbled. Ellanor, we have to stay here in Gaya until we repair the portal. You must find Organoth blue amber. Let’s begin a proper search tomorrow morning.

  Elly sighed heavily. I have a feeling it won’t be easy. It seems that even ordinary blue amber isn’t well known.

  Then she spoke in a low voice, breaking the silence. “Greymore, why hasn’t somebody from Alendria come for me? Surely they wouldn’t allow an elfling like me to stay stranded all by herself in Gaya? There must be something they could do to save me!”

  I am sorry, Ellanor. I do not have the answer to that. We are in this together. I, too, wish to be back in Alendria.

  “I miss them a lot,” she said softly. “They must be so worried about me. Right?”

  You must remember that your family loves you. They would come and save you if they could, Ellanor.

  But in that moment, no more words of comfort could have made her feel less wretched and afraid. She tucked herself into a ball to keep herself from falling apart.

  She didn’t know how much time had gone by. Without an hourglass to tell the time, she could only guess by peeking at the moon, which was often obscured by grey smog. She was very hungry. Eventually, she took out an apple, resisting the urge to devour the pineapple bun. What a miserable supper, she thought. Back home, she had never experienced real hunger. Now, it was a different story. She had to ration any food she could get her hands on. She remembered reading about food rationing in Larabeth Goldberry’s book, The Explorer’s Guide to Survival Tactics in Other Realms. Here in Gaya, she didn’t have Mama to put food on the table.

  She made a face as she bit into the apple; it tasted different from the ones back home, less sweet and juicy. But it was still better than no fruit at all.

  On a nearby branch, two squirrels were quarrelling over some acorns. The animals in this realm seemed somewhat different from the ones in Alendria: less fair to look upon, and they even sounded different. Several bugs were looking at Elly curiously, but they kept their distance. It was very quiet except for the occasional hooting of an owl and the rumbling of passing engines.

  She watched the squirrels for a little while. Then her eyelids began to feel heavy. She curled up and soon fell into a deep sleep after the tears had dried on her cheeks.

  The tears had dried on her cheeks by the time Goldie opened her eyes. She had been having another strange dream. Now that she was awake, she could recall only bits and pieces. She frowned. Who was that girl with the long black hair and green eyes? In the dream, she had felt so forlorn, so lost. Just like me, Goldie thought.

  The right side of her head throbbed. She touched it gingerly and winced; a huge lump had formed. She had read about people dying from concussions. Maybe I’m better off dead, she thought.

  She gazed into the darkness as the rickety plastic clock ticked away. The lone light bulb in the ceiling had finally expired. A ray of moonlight offered some solace through the small square window.

  Finally, she heaved herself off the cold concrete floor, groped her way to the desk, and fumbled for the clock, being careful not to knock over the silver Christmas ball. Squinting at the two thin hands, she was surprised to see that so many hours had passed. It was now past two o’clock, and the silence was so deep that she could hear the drip, drip of the leaking tap from behind the closed bathroom door from across the room. Veronika and her family would be sound asleep by now. They were all surprisingly heavy sleepers. Goldie marvelled at that. How could they still sleep at night after treating her the way they did?

  Her eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, thanks to the moonlight. The dead rat was nowhere in sight. Veronika must have gotten rid of it. She had left Goldie lying on the floor and bustled off to the party with her husband and son. It was a Friday night, and there was no school tomorrow, so Veronika would come back in the morning and clean off Goldie’s wound with cold efficiency, just like the other times. While she was at it, she would probably try to intimidate Goldie into growing out her hair again. “You really ought to cover those ugly ears,” Veronika would say maliciously. But no matter how Veronika tried, Goldie would somehow always find a way to keep her hair short, and she didn’t care who saw her strangely-shaped ears. “She was probably borne of a witch,” the gossipers would whisper.

  Everybody in town believed that Veronika and her family were saints for taking in Goldie—the strange, orphaned, ungrateful girl who never smiled. After all, the wealthy Waldorf family who resided at the sixteen-bedroom mansion were respectable in this town—Veronika’s great-grandfather, a prominent banker, had been one of the founders of Hemlock.

  “Who would want someone as sullen-faced as her? She brings bad luck. Queer things happen when she’s around. Soon, she’ll be too old for the foster system,” they would whisper behind phony smiles. If only they knew what the Waldorfs were like beneath their glittering jewels and expensive tailored clothes.

  But those people were right—strange things did happen around her. Like the time when she was a toddler at the orphanage. She had been spanked by the matron for taking a stale cookie without permission. She was so frightened that she screamed at the top of her lungs, and the light bulbs in the room burst. Then there was the time in second grade when a bully irritated her one too many times. She gave him one deadly stare, and suddenly the mirror in the hallway gave a resounding crack.

  Maybe she rea
lly was a freak, a bringer of bad omen.

  She stared out the square window, and it seemed to her that her longing to be free welled up in her and in the basement, until it should surely burst the hateful walls and set her free indeed. Freedom—that word rolled tantalizingly on her tongue. How she longed to get out and never come back. She had always wanted to go see the ocean. The warm sunshine and powdery golden sand were myths to her. Hemlock was a cold, dreary place, and even in the summer the icy drafts seemed to linger.

  But the window was too small for her to go through, petite as she was.

  Then the uncanniest thing happened. It was so subtle that it took her a little while to notice something had changed.

  Her clothes were hanging off her. The sleeves of her ugly pink nightdress were several inches too long, covering her hands. Her sweatpants were now so loose that they had slid down her small hips, and she had to tug them up. She blinked and leapt up. Her right slipper flew off. She stared down at her left slipper and placed a hand at the tip. She wriggled her toes around. It was now several sizes too big.

  Over the course of several minutes, she seemed to have shrunk!

  What was happening? Her shock and confusion very slowly melted into a smug smile. Maybe it was good to be a freak after all. Whatever devilry this was, it was all to her favour. With a surge of excitement, she looked around the cold basement. Her eyes lit up as they landed on the steel chair at the desk.

  She did not have much. Grabbing a large old duffel bag from under the bed, she tossed in her most prized possessions—the Christmas ball, her two favourite dog-eared novels, her scrapbook, crayons and pens, some changes of clothes, and all the money she had in the world—enough to buy herself a one-way train ticket. She was about to throw in the ragged geography textbook when she paused and flipped it open. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and placed a finger somewhere on the atlas. When she opened her eyes, she looked intently at where her finger was pointing: London, the United Kingdom.

  Quickly, she pulled on a thick grey sweater over her nightdress, put on the warmest jacket she had (some atrocious thing Veronika had salvaged from the clothing pool), pulled on a pair of loose jeans over her sagging sweatpants for padded warmth, and tightened the belt. She didn’t care how awful she must look in these ragged baggy clothes.

  As she laced up her boots as tightly as she could, a pain shot up her index finger, and she cried out softly. She peered at the dark drop of blood that was oozing from her broken skin; there must have been a splinter left lurking on her shoelace.

  As quietly as she could manage, she knocked the sturdy leg of the steel chair against the glass. Nothing happened. With a scowl, she took in a deep breath, and with greater force, rammed the leg into the glass, and winced when it cracked. She did it again, and this time the glass gave way and broke. She held her breath and waited, her heart pounding madly. Everything was still silent, except for the occasional hooting of an owl and the rustling of the trees in the sighing breeze.

  Knocking out the remaining jagged glass, she threw the duffel bag out the window first, took a deep breath, and wriggled out. It worked! She could have laughed out loud if she didn’t have to get away like a thief in the night. No—more like a prisoner escaping from a dungeon.

  The icy cold made her gasp. Glancing up, Goldie saw the bright full moon. She must get out of Hemlock as quickly as possible. Dropping down onto the grass, she picked up her duffel bag and started running like the wind. She weaved in and out of shadows, having always been an unusually fast runner. As she ran, she barely realized she was slowly reverting to her original size.

  In the distance she could hear a sweet birdsong, and it made her smile.

  CHAPTER NINE

  No Breakfast at Tiffany’s

  Elly awoke groggily at the crack of dawn to a sweet birdsong. Everything was covered in beads of dew that glistened in the twilight. She had been having another dream, but it was all a bit hazy now. Then she winced in pain and stared at her index finger. Why was it hurting? It must be a splinter from the tree.

  She had survived her first night away from home. But still, the lump in her throat came back. She thought of the warmth back home, her comfortable hammock, her favourite foods… and most of all, her family… and Aron.

  It was no use feeling sorry for herself. She had to get a move on.

  She stretched, breathing in the cold and damp morning air—then coughed. The atmosphere in the human realm was different—less sweet and crisp, perhaps due to all the pollution those machines and vehicles spouted every day. But at least the morning air was fresher, and she welcomed it.

  A garbage truck was out doing its rounds. She wrinkled her nose at the stench, pinching it until the truck disappeared around the corner. Then she peered down the tree and listened. There was nobody down at the park, and there were very few vehicles going by at this hour. Quickly, she transformed back into human proportions. Several bugs nearby stopped what they were doing and stared.

  The coast was clear. She leapt down the tree and landed lightly. Turning this way and that, she wondered which way she should go. From the coat pocket, she took out the map Lily had given her and peered at it, trying to work out where she was. Then she spotted the red star that Lily had marked on the map for her; she was in a suburb called Edgware. After several minutes of studying the map, she zipped up her coat, took a deep breath, and set off towards the city of London.

  She had to find Organoth blue amber.

  Ding-dong!

  Elly jumped in surprise, and turned to see where the tolling sound was coming from. She could see a tall clock tower from where she was standing, on a footbridge near the River Thames. According to the map, it was Big Ben that was tolling at the end of the Houses of Parliament. The sun had finally come out, warming her a little. She stood still on the bridge, bathing in the sunshine, and longed for the warmth back home.

  She hadn’t been able to resist wolfing down the pineapple bun, and now she had no more food. She groaned. There was only a little water left.

  Do not fret, Ellanor. We shall find a way out of this predicament.

  Elly sighed. “If only I had your optimism,” she muttered.

  It was only after she had finished the food in the paper bag that she found a small, folded-up tissue napkin at the bottom. Some money was tucked inside. Though it wasn’t much, it was just enough for Elly to pay for some food and public transport. Mabel must have put it in there, she thought. She must have been worried about me.

  Elly had to consult Greymore about the use of the English pound; she had no idea how to handle money. She also had to learn how to cross roads safely. Oblivious of roadside etiquette, she almost got hit by an oncoming car. Shaken, she apologized profusely to the angry driver who blasted her with rude words. A kind, middle-aged man steered her across the road, explaining that she shouldn’t jaywalk.

  All morning, she had walked miles going to places that were indicated as “tourist attractions” on her map. As she approached the gigantic, sprawling city, the roads became busier and busier. Soaring up majestically was St Paul’s Cathedral, once the tallest building in the city before the arrival of skyscrapers. She walked past the Tower of London, a castle of nearly a thousand years old that housed the famous British Crown Jewels. Farther to the east was the peaceful St James Park, a mirage of green in a city of concrete, where some children and their dogs were running about; the festive and busy Piccadilly Circus with its neon lights and a peculiar-looking statue called Eros; and Covent Garden on Drury Lane, where her mouth watered at the sight of fresh fruits sold at the marketplace.

  Like other elves, Elly walked at a swift, tireless pace, allowing her to cover three times the distance that a human could. She wished she could fly, but that would surely attract attention. Even if she were to transform back into elf proportions, it was still too much of a risk to fly in broad daylight. She should have brought al
ong the invisibility perfume that Edellina the goblin had given her.

  Everywhere she went, she tried to enquire about blue amber. She received many quizzical looks. One old man she stopped on the street in Piccadilly Circus looked at her suspiciously, as though afraid she was a little pickpocket. Most shops weren’t yet open so early in the morning.

  After several hours, Elly’s stomach was rumbling as loud as ever, and she began to feel her pursuit was pointless and fruitless. Nobody seemed to know what blue amber was.

  She began making her way to the west again, this time for Westminster Abbey. According to the map and Lily’s recommendation, this was a must-see. Elly thought she might as well see as much of London as she could while she was stranded here.

  Elly now understood why the description beneath the map had called London a “cosmopolitan city”. It was a historic, vibrant city buzzing as a hive of constant activity, home to a diverse range of people—Anglo-Saxon, Greek, Italian, Chinese, Korean, Japanese, African, Indian, Russian, Arab, Armenian, Jewish, Polish, French, Swiss, and many more. The diversity was fascinating.

  Elly thought about Alendria. How would elves cope in a place like London? Elves are insular creatures of habit who would not happily accommodate changes. Though the Vierran elves in the north had in the past helped the elves in the south, they were still treated as a people to be avoided, just because they were quite different in their appearance and traditions, and were known to be proud and fierce. Only explorers like her grandpapa and Larabeth Goldberry had shown interest in the Vierran. Elly wished she could meet them.

  On the way to Westminster Abbey, she passed many shops: Marks & Spencer, Topshop, H&M, Pringle, Ashworth, Prada, Chanel, Dior. She had no idea what any of the names meant, nor what those shops sold. Then something in one of the window displays caught her eye: a beautiful sparkling necklace studded with white jewels shaped like flowers. Walking up to take a closer look, she saw the large blue and white sign above the entrance: Tiffany’s. Was this the name of the owner? If blue amber was a rare gemstone, then perhaps Tiffany sold it here at her shop? Her heart raced as she pushed one glass door open, warmth rushing to greet her. She stepped on plush grey carpet. It was very quiet, and there was a sweet fragrance in the air.