“Rumpelstiltskin?” he said into the void of the forest.
“Rumpelstiltskin? Is that why you're out here?” The voice was not at all what he wanted to hear, what he'd hoped to hear and it was also far from new to him.
“Tilly? What are you doing here?”
“Keeping you out of trouble, what else?” she said.
“I'm never going to find Rumpelstiltskin if you're making all that racket,” he said. For someone nearly half his size, she could be monstrously loud.
Philip was certain that Shakespeare had Tilly in mind, when he penned,
“Though she be but little, she is fierce.”
She pushed her way through the undergrowth, hacking absentmindedly at it, with a stick. From time to time, she lifted a sword that she'd brought along to cut away the more persistent pieces of the limbs.
“Hey now, that's my home,” a muffled voice said, but it was far too quiet for Philip to hear and Tilly had no hope of hearing it for all of her bustle.
“What can he do?” Tilly had said, in answer to Philip's question and not the elf's indignation, “The dreamcatcher didn't work. They already tried.”
“What are you talking about?” he said to Tilly, not really meaning that he wanted her to answer. He had no time for Tilly, not today. No, his words meant that she didn't know what he was talking about, that he was pushing her away, like leaves treading under his feet. That, of course, was harsh to say and Philip would never have meant it that way, but it was how Tilly felt. As she reached into her pocket now, she couldn't help but say,
“Just give up. The queen already has. I heard her say so this morning.”
At this, he spun on his heels.
“You heard the queen give up? I'm sure that you're mistaken! What a traitorous thing to say.”
He pushed on, moving branches aside. She hurried after him on the path, barely dodging the twigs as they flew back on her when he'd passed through them.
“So, I'm a traitor then, am I? Fine thing for you to say to your best friend.”
“My best friend?” he said, the words breaking over the forest with more skepticism than he'd intended. As if he'd shot an arrow, it'd pierced Tilly's heart.
She balled up her hands, trying to hold in the tears that edged on the border of her eyes, just waiting to spill. Philip didn't deserve her tears though. He realized his mistake immediately. When Tilly didn't retort, something terrible happened. She wouldn't miss a chance to explode. She was like a firecracker or a spark from flint. He could count on that always. But, he'd taken her for granted. How many times? Dozens, he was ashamed to admit.
“Tilly, wait!” he said, calling after her.
But it was too late; the forest had swallowed her already. There was a softness to the forest at this time of the evening. The sun shone brightest, filtering through the limbs, just before it sank below the horizon. At any moment, it would happen now. A mist rising from the river wrapped its fingers around Philip, holding him in its whim.
“Tilly, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry!” Philip said.
“Not to contradict you, but you did mean it.” The voice was small, coming from somewhere near his feet. He moved the grasses aside, like parting waves in the sea. There, at his feet, rested an elf.
“Hello, Prince Philip.”
“Who told you that? How did you – ” he said, the alarm racing across his face like embers of a fire.
“Elves know all sorts of things,” he said, as if that explained it all.
“I want only to find my friend,” Philip said, as means of excusing himself.
“That's not quite true either, is it?” the elf said.
Frustrated, Philip stared at the elf.
“What do you want?”
He was normally far more polite. But then, usually, he hadn't just insulted his friend, been desperate to find a reclusive man who was his only hope at breaking the curse, or been in love with the sister of the woman he was betrothed to.
“You're in a hurry,” the elf said. He said it slowly, as if daring Philip to slow his pace.
“Yes,” Philip said, “I have a lot to do. Now if you'll just excuse me, I'll be on my way.”
“That's the first true thing you've said since I met you,” the elf said now.
“I am not a liar.”
“I didn't say you were a liar. Only, perhaps, you'd be wise to remember that when on a quest, you can't be too rushed to tell the truth. To others. Most especially, to you though.”
Philip looked down at the elf, struck by his words. This elf was quite possibly the wisest creature he'd ever met. He knew that now. Perhaps, this was a friend that was worth taking his time on.
“I didn't mean to hurt her. She just gets so – so – ” He trailed off, not knowing what to say.
“She can't help whom she loves,” the elf said.
“Whom she l—loves?” Philip sputtered.
The elf nodded. Oh, the elf seemed wise all right, but perhaps Philip had been too hasty in thinking him the wisest creature ever. About this, he clearly had no idea what he was talking about.
“Tilly does not love me,” he said emphatically, “Nothing she does remotely resembles love. She shows up when not announced. She tags along like a duck. She helps me even when I don't ask for it.”
To all of these points, the elf nodded.
“Precisely, as I said, she loves you.”
“Idiot!” Philip said. The elf took no offense, for he knew that the word was not aimed at him or even at Tilly. He knew precisely that Philip was about to say –
“I am such a blundering idiot. How can I be a prince? Aren't they supposed to know something?”
“A prince is like any other man,” the elf said now, “only he wears a crown and he takes on responsibility because it's expected of him. Hm, doesn't sound like anyone you know of, by chance, does it?”
Philip's breath blew out heavily.
For, of course, it sounded exactly like him and moreover the elf knew it.
Chapter Fourteen
Edora
Edora fell into a deep sleep and did not awake until the morning. On suggestion of Fedderlin, she went for long walks in the forest. It was important that she have time to walk, to think, to be submerged in the forest, in all that had been familiar. It was necessary that she not only be blinded by all that was enticing and lay ahead, but that she remember all that she loved about her home before, her life before, so that she could carefully determine which path was right for her.
The sun warmed her back, as she walked. How she'd missed her fur, when first she'd shivered on that morning without it! Now, with a shawl around her shoulders, she was becoming accustomed to warmth of a different variety. As she walked the path, she took in the scent of blackberries. Though she could still smell them, her nose was not attuned to their sweetness as it once had been. She reached out to pluck a berry from the vine, feeling the thorn sink into her pink human flesh of her finger as she did. She drew it back quickly. Was this what it meant to be human? Was it fragile and delicate? That hardly seemed right! For wasn't part of the appeal in leaving her prior life as a deer that she no longer had to feel vulnerable, under threat from the hunter or the men of the forest? Did it then in turn mean that she no longer had to fear people, but she had to fear the forest itself, her home?
The elf was wise then to tell her to consider all. Perhaps, it was better to be a deer, to not have to worry. She absentmindedly plucked the berry into her mouth now and an explosion of sweetness met her palate. What flavor! What vibrancy! What color! How spectacular! Never had she tasted something so alive. She'd noticed that the carrot broth from Fedderlin held more body and flavor than she was accustomed to, but perhaps that was only because he was an elf and elves, she'd always heard, were remarkable cooks. This plant though, which she'd grazed from many times, had been transformed. It was a million times more alive than ever she had imagined. Such sweetness, such texture, such amazing flavor, was reason enough to rethink being human. In t
he palace, she'd eaten little. The food had been so foreign to her, unlike anything else that she'd had before and so she'd been unable to compare it to anything. But berries, berries were what she'd eaten since a tiny fawn. These she knew. Or, at least, she thought she had! Now, she began to doubt. Had she ever really known the flavors of the world before? And if taste could be something so vividly different, then what of the rest?
So entrenched was she in these extraordinary new senses that she didn't realize until it was much too late that she was lost. Utterly and completely. Edora had never been alone, not really anyway. Now the tone of the hunter came rushing over her as she recalled him saying that she was alone. It would have been frightening enough to be alone as a deer, but being alone as a human was all the more terrible. She was barely managing to walk, to speak, when surrounded by others. Now she had to somehow navigate her way back to the palace, a place that she'd been in less than a day. Perhaps, it was too much trouble to be human. Maybe, she ought to just sit down here and plant herself like a vine, entwined with the tree, waiting for the last of Aurora's roses to fade. How long did it take roses to fade?
Edora's stomach rumbled. She grabbed it in fear. What was this terrible ache? It took her the better part of ten minutes, trying not to panic, before she realized that maybe she was hungry. Being a human was so much more dangerous than being a deer!
“A prince is just like...” The words bored through the forest, not overpowering or booming in volume but as though it were meant exactly for her ears.
Fedderlin.
Yes. It was Fedderlin's voice that she heard! And he was speaking to a prince! A prince certainly would know how to find his way back to the palace.
“Fedderlin! It's wonderful to hear you. I'm so lost!”
“Who's there?” the voice that called to her was not Fedderlin's. She froze, fearing that she'd made a mistake. They seemed so easy to make in this human form. And then she recognized him and relaxed,
“Your name is Philip, isn't that right?” Edora said. She'd seen him in the yard with the horses. She'd also, she was nearly sure, seen him in a carriage made of pumpkin. When was that? She tried to remember. There was no human memory of it. No, it was when she'd been an animal still, when she was a deer, the night before her change. She puzzled over such alchemy, vegetables to carriages and deer to ladies.
“Yes, that's right.”
“I thought I heard someone else,” she said.
“I'm afraid it's just me here.”
He said it like he couldn't quite decide whether he really was sorry about it or rather relieved.
“Oh,” Edora said. She didn't know what else to say. She was so unaccustomed to asking others for help, but she was lost, dreadfully so. She hated the idea of Philip suddenly disappearing, as quickly as Fedderlin seemingly had.
“You said you were lost. Do you need help?” Philip said now. They were words spoken in magic. At least, they might have been, for they had that effect on Edora.
“Yes, thank you. If it's not too much trouble. If you are not already busy. If it's all right.”
She hoped that she was saying the right things. Speaking like a human was so much more difficult than communicating as a deer. How did they manage to do this? How did they not trip over their words? How did they know what words fit what occasions?
“Where are you going?” he said.
She wondered if this were some kind of a test. Perhaps, the palace was too far away and it would be better to say somewhere nearer. At least if she got near enough, then... No, that would never work, not least because Edora had nowhere else to say to go. She knew of no place. She supposed that she could have said Fedderlin's house, but then if Fedderlin had wanted to take her back to the palace he would have offered in the first place. Wouldn't he have? And she'd heard his voice. He seemed to be out, somewhere. Elves had all sorts of mysterious errands. She didn't know everything about elves, but she did know that.
“To the palace,” she said, sounding unsure.
His face shifted, only momentarily, as if he were judging a decision, as if his plans were being interrupted.
“Do you know where that is?”
“Of course,” he said, tacking on a cheerful smile to his response, “Come on, we're not so far. It's getting colder and darker by the moment though, no time to waste.”
He spoke little to her on the way back. Edora didn't think ill of him for this. She didn't realize that not talking much was a sign of things on one's mind. She was always used to walking through the forest without the accompaniment of words. Just before they reached the palace, she did hear him mumble,
“Oh well. Rumpelstiltskin probably couldn't do anything anyway.”
◆◆◆
When Edora returned to the castle, his words came to her, before she even saw him.
“You shouldn't have wandered off! I was worried about you! Where were you all night?” The woodsman spoke to her, his voice clipped, his face tense.
“I— I got lost,” she said, trying to find the right words to erase the upset from his face.
He started to say something, but changed his mind, hurrying off instead as he was called away. As he departed, she heard him say,
“Well, at least you are back now and everything is back on track.”
The deer had never been scolded. She felt the flush of shame cover her cheeks now, a feeling so unfamiliar that a lump grew in the pit of her stomach. She'd merely gone for a walk, back to the forest. Were such things not allowed as humans? It would seem as if deciding whether she wanted to remain human was a moot point, if no kindness were shown to her. How could she absorb all that was beautiful about being human if she only caused this scorn?
Chapter Fifteen
A Sign from Aurora
“Cake crumbs.”
“There's only one person who would have eaten that.”
Her eyes went wide.
“Aurora!”
Flying from the room, she raced down the hall.
“What do you mean Aurora? Where are you going?” Tilly called after her.
“She was here! I know she was here!”
Racing into the room, she called to her now,
“Aurora! Aurora!”
“What's happening?” the queen said, stepping from the room.
“I'm sorry Your Majesty, but I must see Aurora.”
“You know that isn't possible,” the queen said, “My daughter lies sleeping, where she has been for months.”
“But, Your Majesty. I'm certain that she was awake.”
“Midnight?”
Midnight stepped from her room now.
“Yes, Mother.”
“What do you know about the crumbs in the kitchen?”
“Crumbs in the kitchen, Mother?”
“The cake, it was eaten!” the maid said, excitedly now.
“I did not eat the cake,” Midnight said.
“Of course, you didn't. It was Aurora!” The maid said.
“Aurora is awake?” Midnight's face bore all the surprise, all the hope and all the panic that one could only hold when one was Midnight.
“No, my dear,” the queen said now.
“But, you called for me, Mother?”
“Yes,” the queen said now, “Because Aurora sleeps, but if something happened, then you would know.”
“I would know?” Midnight said.
Mother nodded and Midnight felt the answer within her.
“Yes, Mother. I would know. But, I know of no such thing, except...”
Now, it came to her. She began to remember. Her mind was flowing backward, to last night. Something had happened. Midnight knew it. She could feel it and yet it was just far enough removed that she couldn't quite...
“I was dreaming.”
“Go on, dear,” Mother said. She looked at Midnight, into her heart and she knew.
“Aurora and I were together. I thought that it was just a dream. It had to be. Didn't it?”
“Maybe,” Moth
er said, “Perhaps, not.”
Chapter Sixteen
Edora
Edora stood, transfixed, as she watched each jewel debut in the night sky. In awe, she watched the twinkling of the stars. Woodsmoke, not at all frightening like forest fires but warm and comforting like Fedderlin's home, fumed through her nose. She breathed it in, then sputtered a little and laughed. It was such a delight, to be able to make such music when pleased! Never before had she laughed. She found the curve of her lips intoxicating when she smiled and raised her fingers to her lips now, to trace this new sensation.
“What are you admiring?” Tilly said, poking her head out onto the balcony. Edora jumped.
“Oh, beggin' your pardon. I didn't mean to frighten' you, only her highness asked me to look in on you to make sure you's was all right and you look so delighted, my words of curiosity jumped ahead of me.”
“That's all right. I do not mind curios—curiosity,” she said. Edora didn't know whether she minded curiosity or not, whatever that was, but she knew that Tilly had looked the way that the hunter had made her feel earlier and she wanted to erase that horrible feeling of shame from Tilly's face.
Tilly smiled and stepped onto the balcony.
“You don't mind if I join you?”
“Of course not, the elf says that I should make friends,” she said, then wondered if perhaps she ought not to have said it. Did humans talk with elves? Did they even know that they existed?
Tilly seemed not to have heard her, as she leaned against the rail, staring off into the sky.
“There's Pleiades and look, there's Cygnus!”
“Pleiades? Cygnus? What are they?” Edora didn't want to seem ignorant, but she had no idea what Tilly meant as she cocked her head to the heavens.
“Pleiades, the horse, Cygnus, the swan, the constellations. The princesses are crazy about them, always giggling under their blankets, looking through the telescope. I suppose I was a bit envious of that, spied on them a time or two.”
While Aurora Slept- The Complete Trilogy Page 13
