Footwear and Fantasy

by J. J. Lore

  A tide of longing overcame her and she sagged against the wood panel behind her. Her time with the elves had been a delicious fantasy made real. She’d never felt so valued and pleased in her life, and knowing she’d never feel that way again was a searing pain in her heart.

  Chapter Five

  The chord was all wrong but Lear strummed it anyway. He kept a pleasant expression on his face as the discordant notes floated away into the queen’s oak paneled reception hall and hung there like an unpleasant smell. Nothing felt right, nor tasted as it should and hadn’t since he’d left Hanna’s room. It was no wonder his music sounded awful. The cyclops’ ball was tonight and he needed to make major improvements in his performance in the next few hours or risk his ruler’s displeasure. Knowing the queen’s mercurial nature, if she found fault he might be censured, demoted, or if it was a particularly bad evening, banished from her kingdom for an eon.

  A door swung open and in strode Garrin attired in his warden garb of subtly patterned leggings and concealing cape, a scowl on his handsome face. There had been a scowl located there for quite some time. “It sounded as if a duck was dying in here.”

  “No wonder you rushed in here, eager to put the poor creature out of its misery.” Lear tried to joke, wishing to bring a smile to his companion’s face but his attempt was in vain. Garrin narrowed his eyes.

  “No, I came to see you. Do you expect me to attend tonight?” His companion’s gruff question was all the evidence Lear needed to shake his head in denial. He would have liked to see Garrin in the audience as he played this evening, but not if his companion’s foul disposition would deteriorate even more. A little niggle of worry threaded through his thoughts and Lear strummed the lute’s strings to distract himself. Garrin would be furious if he ever found out Hanna still remembered them. Lear hated himself for not keeping his word, but he couldn’t force magic. No one could. The notes he coaxed from his instrument were as displeasing as the last and with some impatience he slung it from his shoulder. Perhaps if he didn’t touch it for a while, his muse would return.

  Garrin shot him an evaluating look. “What ails you? I’m the moody one of this pairing.”

  Not liking the fact he wasn’t being open with his partner, Lear instead exited the choir loft, stepping down the wide wooden steps polished to a fine luster. Columns carved to resemble tree trunks rose overhead to support a dark blue painted ceiling set with faceted diamonds arranged to resemble the constellations. This was a beautiful space, the result of many hours of labor by the finest elvish craftspeople but all he could think was he’d rather be ascending Hanna’s uneven steps to join her in her small, lumpy bed. How could he miss someone so much when he’d only known her a few hours? Was it possible a sweet human woman could entrance a magical being?

  He reached the main floor and approached Garrin, who stood with his feet firmly planted and arms crossed over his wide chest. His mate then pointed an accusatory finger. “Don’t tell me you are still pining for her? We agreed it wasn’t to matter to us or her, remember?”

  Before he could speak up, whether to confess his feelings or deny them and hope they’d dissipate, the main doors swung open and the queen’s retinue took their places to form an aisle, their green-and-gold silken robes swirling. Without waiting for a fanfare as was her due, Her Majesty strode in, white skirts fluttering around her feet. Without hesitation, both he and Garrin knelt before her, heads bowed with respect. He could barely make out her approach, her step was so light, and for a moment he wondered if she was casting a muffling spell to stalk them as a huntress would. The tips of her silver slippers came into view and he concentrated on them rather than think about Hanna’s delicate bare toes.

  “Rise, my troubadour and warden.” Her distinctive, husky voice rang out in the nearly empty hall. They stood and regarded her and she stared steadily back. Lear told himself she couldn’t see into his heart even though he suspected she was doing her best to delve into his soul.

  “Warden Garrin Eandru, I’m surprised to see you indoors. Are my lands and the denizens who dwell within secure?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. I’ve just returned from a patrol of the southern reaches and found all barriers to be in place and no sign of any human incursions.”

  The queen nodded once, her widely spaced grey eyes missing nothing. She tilted her head Lear’s way. “And you, Troubadour Lear Seleph. Will all be beautiful and harmonious for the fete this evening?”

  Lear murmured assurances all would be well, though he doubted his performance would elicit much praise. At this point, all he hoped for was that he refrained from making egregious errors. Watching listeners wince while he played wasn’t something he cared to see.

  “What fortunate happenstance to find you together, for there is a matter I need to bring to your attention, informally.”

  Lear knew this was patently false. The queen knew exactly who was in her palace at any moment and their location. It was a power bestowed, along with so many others, upon her coronation. She’d known they were within the hall and had clearly made her way to them deliberately. But it was best to let royalty hold on to their notions.

  “My steward has noted you visit the human town of Arlentown with some regularity. This is entirely permitted as long as you take necessary precautions, as I’m certain you do.”

  Lear nodded and Garrin followed suit. He couldn’t help but wonder what she was driving at.

  The queen drew herself up and stared down her nose at them. It was quite a feat since he and his companion were taller than her by several handbreadths, despite the high heels he knew she habitually wore. Unbidden, a vision of naked Hanna in her boots, limbs a sprawl, leapt into his mind and he shook his head to banish it.

  “So you do not camouflage yourselves? You allow them to see you? You speak with them?” The queen’s quick question shook Lear and he gathered his thoughts as quickly as he could. Garrin shot him a look from the corner of his eye.

  “No, Majesty, of course we use every means of subterfuge to resemble them and elicit only normal curiosity. My thoughts strayed and for that I apologize.”

  With what was hopefully a mollified smile, she gave a forgiving nod. “I understand. Performers can become nervous when their hour approaches. In any case, I mean to ask you the mood of the humans, since you are on such intimate acquaintance with them.”

  Garrin choked out a strained sound and Lear tried not to react to the queen’s unwitting double entendre. His mate spoke up quickly. “My Queen, they seem as they ever do. Fretting about money, politics, and religion. Only the scale of the conflict changes in these matters.”

  “So no rumblings of concern about magical creatures and nightly visitations? You know how they like to whip themselves into a frenzy every century or so.”

  “No, Your Grace, our kind are merely a myth to them and one they don’t care to retell all that often. They are quite distracted by some border disputes and the codification of one of their holy books,” Garrin reported in as a warden should. All Lear would have been able to contribute would be what the current tune was and how the taverns were brewing the latest ales.

  “That’s good news. What you see in the creatures escapes me. Haven’t you concluded your study of them?” She wrinkled her lean nose and pressed her lips together. Though he’d spoken with her many times at court functions, Lear was again struck by the fact that he was actually having a conversation with the regent of his entire people.

  “They continue to innovate, Your Majesty. Their songs especially fascinate me. Did you know anyone can undertake the composition of one? There are of course trained musicians, but there is no law preventing a farmer or dairy maid from humming an original tune and teaching it to one and all.” Elvish society maintained rigid restrictions for all occupations, but humans seemed to act in a free-for-all manner.

  Her slightly raised eyebrows indicated her polite lack of interest in human music. As protector of the realm, the concrete realities of possible human militar
y incursion were paramount in her mind. “A delightful hobby for you, I’m sure. In any case, be sure to keep your distance from them. They carry diseases, you know.”

  With that warning she lowered her hand their way and he and Garrin again sank into bows, pressing their lips to the cold emerald-and-silver ring encircling her finger. She swept away, skirt swishing on the marble floor, and Lear glanced at his mate. Garrin remained silent until her guards had shut the door behind them and they were alone again.

  “What’s wrong?” Garrin’s blunt question made Lear blink. He tightened his jaw rather than blurt out everything stewing in his mind. “Are you worried about tonight’s performance?”

  “Of course I am. I have two solos and have only been able to practice with the rest of the quartet twice in the past few days. We aren’t ready. I’m not ready.”

  His mate’s expression flickered from concern to a more speculative mien. He reached out to adjust the lute’s strap across Lear’s shoulder. “Is there anything else? A Night-Mare possessed you in the early hours this morning.”

  Lear could barely remember the troublesome dream. Morpheus had blessedly spared him the details upon waking. All he could recall was running through the forest, searching for his heart which had been torn from his body. The branches and roots of trees clawed at his limbs as he struggled. “I suppose I’m worried about many things and that nasty Alp demon found a way past my defenses.”

  “I shall lay a spell of deflection tonight then, as best I’m able.” Garrin smiled thinly, clearly pleased to be able to take some action. “I thought you might be thinking of her.”

  “Who?” Lear was embarrassed by his crude attempt to deflect his mate.

  Garrin frowned. “Hanna. You know very well who I meant.”

  Lear opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say. He wasn’t quite certain how he felt and certainly didn’t wish to have a constructive conversation with Garrin.

  “Do you still think of her?” His mate’s blunt question pierced Lear’s façade of insecurity and he couldn’t stop himself from nodding.

  “I do. She was so sweet and well disposed to us. I felt as if I could talk with her about anything, as I do with you. I cannot help recalling our time with her and wishing we could repeat it.”

  Garrin shook his head but ran a comforting hand down Lear’s arm to grasp his hand tightly. “You know we cannot return to her. It would put her in danger among her own kind to find she’d been entertaining men in her bed, not to mention become a death warrant for her if they discover she’d lain with magical creatures. Not to mention we would be censured and perhaps banished from our own kind.”

  All true and maddeningly unfair. “I know these things. I no more wish to put her in jeopardy than I would endanger you.”

  Garrin gave him a brief smile and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “But telling yourself that doesn’t seem to stop the longing, does it?”

  “It doesn’t.” Lear peered at his mate, trying to understand. “You think of her too?”

  Garrin nodded briefly. “More than I should. I’d thought with time the memory would fade, but…”

  “She remains constant in my heart. I worry for her future. You saw the state of her shop. She barely has enough to feed that damned cat. Winter is difficult and that fellow pressuring her for money makes me angry every time I consider it. Why is she alone and unprotected?” Lear’s worries burst forth and he was nearly shaking by the time he’d reached the end of his recitation. Garrin sighed and circled his arms around Lear’s shoulders.

  “It’s nothing we can solve now. Tonight is for the queen’s amusement and the cyclops’ pleasure. You play and charm the court while I keep watch.”

  “Keep watch over what?”

  Garrin released his hold and leaned back slightly to capture Lear’s gaze with his own. “Hanna.”

  His mate’s admission astonished Lear and he gripped Garrin’s arm. “But you said we had to leave her—”

  “We did, but she hasn’t left us, has she?” His mate swallowed hard as if something was obstructing his throat. “There is much for us to consider. I’ll rest better if I know she’s safe tonight and I suspect you will as well.”

  Lear refrained from asking about all the nights to come. Just knowing a warden of the magical realm was going to guard Hanna eased away much of the anxiety that plagued him.

  ****

  Something was amiss in Arlentown. Garrin adjusted his position at the top of the sentinel oak tree and directed his scrying glass toward the center of town. He’d been watching Hanna’s shop closely, but a strange glow attracted his attention to the small cathedral and fountain that graced the center of the town. As he focused the magical instrument, he sensed Lear’s arrival next to him, his mate’s progress up the tree nearly as easy as his own. The charmed barrier that separated the human and elven realm caused some distortion in the image, but what he could see was clear enough; a large fire was consuming a building at the edge of the town square. Small dark figures rushed around, their shadows lengthened to frightening proportions by the glare of the flames. He fancied he could hear the cries of fear and dismay.

  “Is it near Hanna?” Lear’s quick question had Garrin sliding the scry back toward her neighborhood. At least a hundred paces away, but fire could leap that distance before she even heard the warning.

  “Close enough for concern.” It was late in the evening and she was undoubtedly asleep and entirely unaware of the threat. Garrin turned toward his mate as well as he could while balancing on the thick branches of the oak that held them. “We must decide what we are to do, and now.”

  Lear was quick. He always had been and yet again, Garrin’s love for the man filled him with warm surety. Whatever they were going to do, whatever changes they might soon initiate, he and Lear would act as one. “I would die inside if we held back and she came to harm.”

  “Then we go.” With that, Garrin stowed his glass in its small leather sheath and lowered himself from the tree’s concealing limbs. Lear followed, a rain of leaves marking his passage. The enchanted barrier keeping humans out of the unsullied lands of magic stretched before them, a shimmering blue-green shield invisible to ordinary creatures. It would repel any curious human and cause them to veer off and become disoriented. Garrin had spent many youthful afternoons amusedly watching people walk into its magical grip and suddenly stumble and circle, eventually to wander off in the opposite direction.

  The barrier parted for them and they stepped from the land of elves to that of men to shoulder all the peril that entailed. They ran through the forest and leapt a stream, following the familiar course they’d plotted to Arlentown. All those nights of travel allowed them to move at utmost speed despite the dark since they were intimately familiar with every rise and obstacle. Within what seemed like moments they were speeding past human farms and hamlet, the walls and towers of the small city rising before them, visible with the glow of the fire.

  The gatekeeper was too distracted to even question them as they trotted through the parted iron railings. With some haste, Garrin remembered to glamour their appearance. Even though the humans they passed in the street were clearly panicked by the fire, it wouldn’t do to cause comment if they were spotted in elf form. Invariably their pointed ears and muscular physiques would inspire the more superstitious people to blame the fire on demons and call for a hunt to root out any magical creatures unfortunate enough to cross their paths. The queen would not be amused. In fact, Her Majesty would disapprove of everything they were doing.

  The acrid scent of smoke assailed his nostrils as he and Lear made their way along the narrow, crowded streets. The fountains they passed were mobbed with men and women desperately scooping up buckets of water which they then rushed off with to douse their homes. A wicked orange glow and a roaring sound of escalating flame indicated where the conflagration was centered, but he and his mate ducked into a familiar alley to circumvent it and reach Hanna’s dwelling more quickly.

 
; Lear rushed ahead and emerged into her street almost at a dead run. His pace matched many of the humans as they rushed about, either to flee or approach the fire in hopes of halting its spread. Confusion reigned but Garrin’s pace was sure. They rounded a corner and rushed to the cobbler’s shop door to find it barred. Smoke swirled around them, and the urge to see Hanna swelled within him.

  “I will cast it aside,” Lear announced in a hissing whisper and Garrin nodded agreement. His mate was the better spell caster. Garrin had always attributed it to Lear’s ability to memorize music and song. Better a quick entry than to wait for his own fumbling words which were as likely to result in transforming the lock into a terrapin as to cause it to open. His mate spoke briefly under his breath and the metal fasteners creaked as if being bent from within. He reached for the latch and flung the door open, not caring if any passing citizens noticed their entry.

  The shop was hazy with smoke and he fancied it was a bit warmer than usual. No time to waste. Thudding up the steps, he rushed to her bedroom door and flung it open. The cat leapt out at him with a yowling cry and he deftly stepped aside, wanting only to find Hanna and assure himself she was well. The curtains around her bed were drawn closed and he pulled back the rough cloth in a rush. She lay pale and still on the bed, only a tumble of russet hair and the curve of her cheek visible under the blankets. Too still. He couldn’t detect the rise and fall of her breathing and his heart stopped cold in his chest.