The Least of Elves

by Robin Glassey

  Toran tried to keep up with the ensuing conversation between Kelar and Sosha. Sosha sounded angry as she addressed Kelar, “Is this ... joke? ... father ... dead ... stranger ... my home?”

  Although he could pick out a few words, Toran did not understand their overall conversation, so he waited patiently, hoping Kelar would help him find the Human he sought.

  Kelar shifted in his chair and beads of sweat appeared on the man’s forehead. He appeared uncomfortable and yet his sincerity echoed throughout the room. “Listen, … no joke. His Master sent him … You need … help... mill ... problem solved.” Kelar and Sosha then argued for a few minutes as though Toran did not even exist.

  Sadly, he was used to this.

  Finally, Sosha’s head turned towards him, and she addressed him directly. “Toran, is it?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Where are you from?” she inquired in a measured tone.

  “I from Xanti come.”

  “I’m confused. You … here in Kipra to marry. Correct?”

  Toran nodded eagerly. She understood him. Maybe things were turning around for him. “Yes, yes! Master Kopu sent me to marry. He say I do good job to marry. I best.” He wanted to take the last words back. It sounded as though he was bragging, which was not very Elven of him. Toran meant Master Kopu trusted him with this delivery. He really should keep his answers simple.

  “Why did Master Kopu send you to marry?” Sosha’s words came out slowly and Toran could tell she was trying very hard to enunciate and speak in a measured way.

  “Kirowak send order to my Master and my Master send me.”

  Sosha’s body language indicated puzzlement — head tilted sideways and one hand on a cheek. The growl of a sand tiger in the distance seemed overly loud in Toran’s ears as the silence in the room stretched out. Perhaps they did not receive very many deliveries of footwear in this village?

  She advanced slowly from the dark corner towards Toran. When she stood right in front of him, bathed by the moonlight, he realized she wore a scarf artfully wrapped around her head which concealed half of her face and completely covered her eyes. Toran felt more and more confused by the customs of this village. In all of his studies he had not read of any Rhodeans covering their eyes. She took a couple more steps forward, her hands reaching out to touch his face. Unused to such physical contact Toran automatically moved his head back.

  “Sosha uses her hands to ‘see’ people,” Kelar explained.

  It was then Toran realized Sosha was blind. It explained the darkened cottage, lack of candles and her covered eyes. Toran allowed Sosha’s fingertips to brush his cheeks. She gently touched his face again, tracing the contours of his features softly going over his nose, cheeks, eyebrows, chin. She touched his ears and upon reaching the elongated points she froze briefly, retracted her hands as if burned. She should have known he was an Elf when he told her he was from Xanti, still, perhaps the fact did not sink in until she touched the points of his ears.

  Did he disgust her? Did she not like Elves? Toran knew many Humans feared magic users. Perhaps she was one of those. Several more questions began to race through his mind. Did she live here alone? And blind? How could she manage? The holes in the hut wall? Was that what was distressing her … that she could not fix it herself and with winter soon approaching?

  Kelar slapped Toran on the back, jarring him out of his thoughts.

  “Let’s let Sosha rest. Come, Toran.” Kelar stood up and headed towards the door, dragging Toran with him.

  The young Elf felt confused over the events of the day. So far he had been accosted by dogs and been introduced to a sad blind girl. Now night had fallen and he had not yet been able to deliver the boots to Master Kirowak.

  They exited Sosha’s home and as they walked down the village street, Kelar’s dogs yipped and jumped behind them.

  “You can stay with me tonight.” Kelar said.

  Toran kept glancing back towards Sosha’s home, nervously wringing his hands. Kelar had hauled him out of the hut so quickly he had forgotten the boots in Sosha’s home. He hoped they would be safe there until he could retrieve them.

  “This is my home,” Kelar indicated the small brown hut they approached on their right.

  A light shone inside and the sound of clinking clayware could be heard even from the street. This drew a frown on Kelar’s face. Pushing open the door with an abrupt motion Kelar bellowed, “Tika! I’ve brought company, set another place at the table.”

  A red-faced Tika opened her mouth to say something to Kelar, and letting her breath out in a rush when she took in the Elf standing next to her husband. Her eyes lit up and she started chattering. “An Elf ... such an honor ... so excited ... would’ve cleaned ... only hakku stew ... no warning ... ” and she gave Kelar a narrow-eyed glare, shooting daggers with her eyes. She quickly brushed tendrils of loose hair back from her face and wiped floury hands on her apron before approaching Toran.

  “Welcome, welcome! ... sit down ... comfortable. If I’d known ... I would’ve been more prepared.”

  With this comment she sent another scathing glare at her husband. He gave her an exaggerated kiss on the cheek and told Toran Tika might forgive her husband — with time.

  Toran was not so sure. This Human struck him as having a very long memory for offenses. Yet despite all of the withering stares for her husband, Tika’s manner towards Toran was full of warmth and welcome.

  “Tika, Toran. Toran, this … my wife, Tika. Toran is here to marry Mistress Kirowak.” Kelar smiled widely at his wife.

  She dropped Kelar’s bowl of stew, sending it crashing to the ground, and shrieked, “What?”

  The big man’s grin spread even further when Toran verified his statement with the words, “Yes, I marry to Mistress Kirowak. Kelar help me to find.” Tika looked over at her husband with a slight narrowing of her eyes.

  “Kelar, just what do you think you’re up to?”

  ***

  The next day dawned bright and sunny, yet with a slight chill to the breeze. Toran had enjoyed a nice dinner with Kelar and Tika. She seemed much like Kelar in build and personality. It was hard again to follow their conversation and his head felt weighed down, as though a skrewk nested on his brain.

  Toran did not know why he should think of skrewk, and gave a shudder. They were nasty birds of prey, twice as large as a sand tiger and much more dangerous. He did not envy anyone who crossed paths with one of those deadly animals.

  Toran awoke early and left Kelar’s home to watch the sun rise. Nothing rivaled the beauty in Xanti: a forest alive in color, a city of living homes carved out of giant trees. Many Elves compared the land beyond Xanti like dull silverware. Yet when the first rays of the sun shone on the endless sea of grass, lighting them up like glittering gems, Toran saw a different kind of beauty. He was so caught up in the play of the sunlight on the grass he did not notice the quiet footsteps approaching from behind until they were almost upon him.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Sosha spoke in a soft hesitant voice, speaking slowly so Toran could understand.

  “Yes, very beautiful. Not like home, however,” Toran said, sneaking a glance at the young woman.

  Sosha had her head wrapped up again, this time in a royal blue scarf. Toran had heard of Human women, and men for that matter, in some of the Southern tribes who covered their heads only keeping their eyes visible. She had wrapped her head in such a way that kept her eyes covered along with the right side of her face down to her chin. Her mouth and ears were free to move and hear respectively. However, scar lines ran up into her hairline and down onto her neck. It appeared as though some great creature had raked its claws across her head from one end to the other.

  In the rising sun he could now see Sosha’s hair was actually dark brown with some red highlights which glinted in the sun. Although the scarf covered much of her face, freckles dotted the tip of her nose and even the backs of her hands. I
n truth, her exposed skin had turned a coppery brown by the rays of the sun. Sosha’s hands were small, and rough. Working hands. She had a slim build, and for all the softness in her voice there was no accompanying softness to her figure.

  Yet Toran suspected her voice was not usually this quiet. He also suspected her current sorrow had created this quiet tone for he heard a thread of determination running through her speech. And as she stood motionless next to him, she reminded him of a statue, her features and form chiseled into place, each muscle perfected, hardened by years of labor.

  She was beautiful.

  Elves were supposed to be breathtakingly beautiful to Humans. Yet as Toran looked at her, taking in her every detail — he looked pale in comparison.

  She turned to him, breaking the silence, “Tell me about your home, Toran.”

  Toran tried to describe Xanti, and found he did not have the Human words for the many marvels in the forest and in the city — things she would never have encountered before: Elementals, faeries, windah, and trees which seemed to touch the sky. He found his efforts at speech halting and frustrating, yet she listened with patience. When he finally stuttered to a halt he wondered what he could safely ask of her. Why was she sad? Why was she blind? Did his appearance offend her? He desperately wanted to ask these questions, yet Elven politeness forbade it and he settled instead for, “You live here always?”

  This brought a twist of a smile to her mouth as though she had eaten something unpleasant. She replied in a slow careful way, “No, my father and I moved here when I was little.” Then answering his unspoken question she touched her hand to the scarred side of her face and said quietly, “Sand tiger.”

  A lie.

  Elves were good at detecting lies. And why lie about the injury? What had really done that to her? It seemed she sensed he had detected her deception for she stood there with arms folded and chin thrust out as though daring him to disagree.

  He was about to ask her more when Kelar ran up to them, the dogs trailing behind.

  “Toran! There you are!” Kelar’s rapid speech rattled around in Toran’s head. Despite that, he thought he understood something about Tika banging dishes and breakfast. Kelar kept talking even as he pulled Toran away by the arm and patted a goodbye to Sosha.

  “Well met, Sosha.” Toran managed to get out the traditional greeting of Rhodea before being dragged away by Kelar.

  ***

  Sosha reluctantly returned to her hut, her thoughts whirling around Toran. It all seemed so strange and unreal. She recognized Tika’s no nonsense knock on the door and she absent-mindedly invited the older woman in. Of course as soon as Tika entered she immediately started in on the topic of the Elf and his marriage proposal.

  “Sosha, I don’t see what the problem is. Toran is easy on the eyes, polite, and most importantly is willing to marry you. What possible objection could you have?” Tika tapped an impatient foot on the hard packed floor of Sosha’s kitchen, with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

  Sosha responded quickly, “Tika, did you fail to notice he’s an Elf?”

  “I’m surprised at you, girl. I never thought you were prejudiced against Elves.” Tika injected a little disapproval in her voice, but not too much. Tika apparently knew her well, for Sosha could be stubborn when she felt like she was being forced into something.

  The blind girl defended herself nonetheless. “That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t have anything against Elves. I just don’t see how any Elf could live here in Kipra. Did you feel his skin? It was so soft, so smooth.” Sosha held out her hands and challenged. “Feel my hands. They’re hard and tough. And besides, what could Toran possibly do here to help me even if he did marry me? Would he even survive the first frost?”

  Sosha’s voice took on a more practical tone. “Listen, Sosha, Elves have lived on Fathara much longer than Humans have and know more about survival than we do. I’m sure Toran has skills we don’t even know about which will help you and the village. And the Village Council will have to accept your ownership of the mill if you’re married,” the older woman’s voice lowered, “or become a widow even. Give it some thought, but don’t take too long. You need a husband, my dear.” Tika gave her a reassuring pat on the hand and her voice softened, “Even if you decide not to marry him, there’s always a place for you in my home.”

  After Tika left, Sosha sat in her kitchen thinking over their conversation. She still didn’t understand why Toran had appeared on her doorstep with a marriage proposal. It seemed like such an odd thing for her father to have arranged. She loved her father, however, and thinking about him brought a fresh wave of grief. He’d promised to always protect her. Was Toran’s proposal part of Khamden’s plan to keep his promise?

  Khamden’s funeral had been simple as most funerals tended to be in the Rhodean plains. The villagers had gathered around his pyre with heads bowed as Keeper Djohn spoke the words of leave-taking. The simple prayer would help Khamden’s spirit on his journey to back to Rhava. As Khamden’s only child, Sosha had lit the funeral pyre. Then the villagers’ voices had joined together in the Leave-taking Prayer as the flames licked the sky. She could feel the heat of the pyre even now as she thought back on it.

  Sosha was truly alone now. Because of her blindness her world had been dark for many years but never bleak, never hopeless. Her father had filled it with sound, laughter and love. Khamden knew Sosha missed Khirra, was often sad about her death, and yet he didn’t let her wallow in sorrow. He taught her life doesn’t always go how we plan, but we can still make the best of what we have. Khamden was grateful for what he had and didn’t complain about having to raise a blind girl as his own. Where others looked on her with pity or revulsion he taught her she had other gifts to use and share.

  With Khamden gone emptiness remained, not only in Sosha’s home, but also in her heart. She wasn’t yet sure she wanted to survive, to keep getting out of bed every morning. Life didn’t have meaning for her at the moment. However, having already lost her mother Sosha knew this cutting pain would eventually pass.

  If she could make it through the emptiness that yawned in front of her … find something or someone to live for.

  Sosha didn’t understand what was going on between her and the stranger Toran, but if she chose to keep the mill she’d have to accept his proposal. If Chodah Setah obtained the mill he’d bleed the villagers dry. And besides, the villagers needed her help with the mill whether they knew it or not. They had no idea a blind girl had been using Elemental power to help the mill function on windless days.

  Even as Sosha thought this, she spread her hands apart and a swirl of air danced between her fingers before dissipating. But was helping the village and marrying this stranger the solution to the hole in her heart?

  Four

  With breakfast over with, Toran expected Kelar would finally take him to Master Kirowak in order to complete the boot delivery. “Will I marry Mistress Kirowak today?” Toran asked.

  “Soon enough, soon enough,” Kelar replied, his eyes sliding away.

  “Where Mistress Kirowak?” Toran pressed, hoping to find out where he could find Master Kirowak and make his delivery of the boots.

  “Not here right now,” Kelar said as the two of them walked around the village. A portly man approached with a large brown birthmark on his face, breath smelling of dead animals and burst in on their conversation.

  Again the Humans spoke quickly and Toran caught the words, “Kelar! ... rumor ... Sosha... married ... Elf ...”

  Kelar remained unruffled by the newcomer and said with a grin, “Well met ... Chodah Setah.”

  The man named Chodah Setah turned beet red in the face, making the large birthmark on his beefy cheeks stand out in sharp contrast. His eyes narrowed as he looked over at Toran, yet instead of directing any remarks to the Elf he shouted at Kelar, waving his hands in the air.

  “Well? ... waiting ... explanation?” Chodah Setah could not contain himself and
flecks of foam gathered at the corners of his mouth as he shouted.

  “Why ask me, Chodah Setah? I’m already married,” Kelar answered, still smiling. “Ask Toran, he’ll tell you himself,” and Kelar gestured towards Toran.

  Toran wondered at the anger of Chodah Setah and felt grateful all the attention so far had been directed towards Kelar. His gratitude was short‐lived, however, as the red-faced man quickly turned on him demanding, “Why are you here?”

  Toran suppressed a sigh and trying in an Elfly manner to be patient said yet again, “I here to marry Mistress Kirowak. My Master send me.”

  The Elf watched as Kelar coughed behind his hand to cover a laugh as Chodah Setah’s face went from anger to shock. His face hardened, and a large vein pulsed madly in the villager’s forehead. He turned on his heel muttering, “We’ll see about that.”

  The two watched the enraged man storm down the road, hands pumping up and down, then bang on Sosha’s door. The door opened and even from a distance they heard Chodah Setah’s voice rising along with Sosha’s heated replies. Each word was loud and punctuated and Toran found their words fairly easy to follow as a result.

  “What has you more bothered — the fact someone wants to marry a blind girl, the fact it’s an Elf, or the fact that when I get married you won’t get the mill?”

  Sputtering Chodah Setah replied, “I’ve no problem with Elves, but we don’t marry them. They’re — different.”

  “I’m different. Does that mean I shouldn’t get married?” challenged Sosha. Sosha’s shouts carried down the street and villagers began poking their heads out of their huts, looking for the source of the noise.

  “He’s just too different. He wouldn’t fit in!”

  “Thank you for your time, Chodah Setah, and your concern,” she said in a way that Toran doubted expressed any small measure of gratitude. Although perhaps he erred, for there was still so much he needed to learn about these Humans.