Some little thought niggled at the back of Elodie's mind as they embarked into the woods that day. She felt assured that she was forgetting something, but as she examined herself over, she was sure she hadn't. She had the wool-lined coat and thicker boots she'd created with Thalia's assistance. The walking stick that jingled came with her, too. In her pockets, she carried a wrapped parcel of dried berries for a snack and a branch of lavender that Fen gifted her while explaining that it could act as a ward for wayward spirits that lurked in the dark corners of the woods.
"This way, dear," Thalia called back, a smile on their face. "Almost there."
Elodie shook her head, unable to place the feeling beyond a mild sense of deja vu. "Coming!"
Thalia leaned against a tree that stood at a bend in the path with a single hand. Their nails tapped along the bark as they detached, shaking some lichens loose. Together, they trudged in a part of the woods Elodie had yet to explore.
Despite searching the entire day yesterday, and the day after, and the day after that as well, Elodie still had yet to procure an item that felt truly her own, but Thalia didn't seem irritated by her lack of progress. When Elodie had reported the failure yesterday, Thalia had been very understanding, ensuring the younger orator that "these things take time" and that "three days may have been far too much pressure to place on such a new seedling."
"And you're sure you'll be okay on your own today?" Thalia asked, their voice full of concern. "I'd be happy to come with you if you feel you'll get lost."
"Fen will be with me," Elodie assured them. "He knows the way back, right?"
From somewhere ahead that Elodie couldn't see, Fen gave a huffy kind of snort. That was Fen for "yes," Elodie was quickly learning.
"Please," Elodie said to the pensive look Thalia was giving, "go help the elk. I'll be perfectly content to search on my own and very excited to show you when I return."
Thalia reached out to smooth out Elodie's now-explosive hair. "One more insistence, and I will think you and Fen are eagerly plotting something against me." Their tone was impish as they leaned over. "Perhaps I should strike first."
"I think the salt in my tea this morning was quite enough," Elodie retorted.
"That was funny."
Elodie flipped her hair and kept walking ahead.
"Elodie!"
The stern expression on Elodie's face melted after a few moments into a sheepish grin. She looked very free in the forest with Thalia, hair catching the first beams of the morning as they danced over roots and ferns together. Not at all like she'd felt in the castle, secluded in a spare attic with uppity nobles hawking down her shoulder.
As though sensing her attachment to the woods and Thalia, her muse grumped from within, Focus on finding your instrument so that we might leave. This prattle is tiring.
Could you stay quiet? Some of us are trying to enjoy our day.
Is that a command orator?
White dusty spots formed on Elodie's arm and split into little barbs of ice that quickly melted. She shook it off with a frown.
"Giving you trouble?" Thalia guessed.
"A little," Elodie admitted.
"It is ... demanding. To share a space." Thalia's speech was oddly stilted. They paused like they wanted to say something more, but Elodie couldn't read their expression as most of it was hidden behind a thick collar of deer fur and antlers.
Spiraling, unsaid questions in the silence led Elodie to a very simple one that said offhandedly: "What is your muse like?"
The air stilled. Elodie felt a sharp sense of wrongness stabbing into the back of her neck as soon as the last word left her lips. The forest quieted. The birdsong, the chittering- gone.
"Oh, neither here nor there," Thalia said airily.
"They must be wonderfully communicative," Elodie plowed ahead, "with how smooth your orations are. Nothing at all like mine." Elodie walked forward, but the bells on her walking stick didn't jingle anymore, and the snow was silent underfoot.
The fairy queen didn't move, stunned into agape silence. Their left eye began to well over with water, and one tear slid down the smooth hill of their cheekbone. They held a hand up to the tear, wiping it off their face and examining it with deep, dark confusion.
"I should like to-" Elodie turned back to see what was happening in the quiet. "Oh!" Elodie exclaimed, "I'm sorry, that was entirely too forward." The relationship between the two must have been private, and Elodie felt like a complete busybody for intruding.
With a frightening speed, Thalia's tear-stained hand pushed Elodie backward against a tree, splitting some of the furrowed bark. The walking stick fell to the ground with a silent clatter. The full weight of Thalia's body slammed into Elodie, and the wind left her lungs. Elodie felt clawed nails press into the sides of her neck, fleshy thumbpads squeezing on her jugulars. Elodie didn't kick or fight, too shocked to understand what was happening, let alone react to it.
"Don't remind me of that interloper," Thalia screeched. The fairy queen throttled Elodie's throat, squeezing the very life out of her as hard as they could as tears stung their eyes. Elodie tried to choke out a response, to get a breath of air, but their hands closed tighter. She clawed at Thalia's hands in a wild instinct, but the grip was iron.
Butterflies landed on the rest of Elodie's body, and the spots where they touched burned like a summer bonfire. Thalia pulled Elodie's head outwards and then slammed it back into the tree once, twice. Each swing was with great force as though Elodie was an unfavored doll and Thalia a delinquent child-
-and with a dull thud, Elodie found herself on the deer path a gain, a slight jingling of bells in the air from her walking stick lurching into the dirt. She gasped for air. She felt her feet firm on the ground. Thalia stood in front of her by several paces with a patient expression.
"What-"
"Careful," was all Thalia commented under her breath, in a voice that Elodie could barely make out but somehow knew was intended for her and her alone.
Elodie leaned on her walking stick for support, digging the end of it into the dirt. She brought a hand up to her throat, feeling the spot that had been gripped with sharp nails just moments ago. Without knowing what else to do, she sputtered again, "What?"
"What?" returned Thalia's voice just the same, equally confused.
"What did you say?"
"I said, careful not to stray from Fen today, dear, especially if your muse is bothering you. Some of the denizens of the woods aren't so keen on strangers." They looked at Elodie, eyes full of worry, "Are you very sure you're alright to wander alone? We could put it off until tomorrow if you're not feeling well. No brave faces between friends, hm?"
"What just happened?" Elodie insisted.
Thalia took a step closer, and Elodie took one back. The heel of Elodie's boots knocked into Fen, who grew a little larger to compensate for her weight, steadying her. Fen didn't take his eyes off Thalia, watching her with a sharp stare.
The feeling of Fen's fur between her fingers was a calming reminder, and Elodie composed herself. "I'm sorry. No. I'm alright. I still need to wake up a bit, I think."
Thalia looked back and forth between the two and then sighed, walking further up the path. Fen's gaze followed them so sharply that Thalia spoke carefully to avoid being cut. "You both worry me, you know. More excitement than I've had in years, and I don't prefer it." With a flippant flick of their wrist in a wave, Thalia urged them onwards and said with the same superficial tone, "The wisteria bloom is just up ahead. I thought it might give some inspiration!"
No more words were exchanged between the two as they walked. Elodie was relieved by the amount of birdsong and rustling she heard within the woods again. She pulled her coat a little tighter. The sound was comforting, but for the first time, she missed home since coming to the forest.
They soon stood in a copse of flowering trees that beamed in defiant orange against the blue winter blanketing them. The trees had delicious, dark wood, and hanging from branches were spindly clumps of tiny flowers that looked like wisteria but in unnatural shades of tangerine and salmon that were unfittingly loud for such a delicate flower structure. When a push of wind rattled the leaves, the clearing became a kaleidoscope that set the forest ablaze. Small, oval-shaped petals danced a clumsy ballet with fat white snowflakes until they took a bow on the forest floor. Above, the conifers swayed as great protectors, only allowing small patches of sunlight past their sturdy defenses.
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Thalia thrust their hands at their side, as a ringleader might when presenting the performers in a circus. The jeweled blues and greens of Thalia's wings and butterflies flashed in brilliant contrast amongst the orange of the flowers in a way that Elodie could only describe as alluring. The eye was drawn to them with everything they did, like how a wayward thread stuck out on an otherwise acceptable gown.
She found little pleasure in the theatrics this morning.
* * *
Elodie firmly believed that constant conversation was not always necessary, so she let the quiet envelope them like a blanket. It gave her time to listen, think, and calm down. Without Thalia to make the branches move and the crickets chirp, the forest felt deeply sad, like an untended grave. Fen was there, pacing darkly behind as a large, white wolf, which made her feel she was never truly alone.
She spent twenty minutes quietly walking through the clearing of flowers, which made her miss Nadya terribly. One of Nadya's many quirks was an insistence that during the autumn harvest holiday, the entire family should go out to see the leaves changing. All six, the whole family, would bundle themselves up in fur-lined coats and sturdy shoes and travel a mile or two down to the Ulfson's apple farm to parade about like a collection of squawking geese. They'd walk about in the autumn colors and admire the leaves turning. Simona would complain the entire time, and Tilly was often carried home in someone's arms by the end. Afterward, they'd drink hot cider that ebbed away any cold left from the morning. Once, when Elodie was younger, she'd asked why Nadya was so fond of the entire event. Nadya had responded, "It's good to remember things change."
Elodie was buried deep in these memories when a pair of hands the size of a thimble tapped her cheek gently. A jolt of surprise raced through her, and she jerked back. There, floating beside her face, was a diminutive figure with the same blue wings Thalia sported. A whistling chorus of giggles followed. Elodie couldn't make out any facial features defining marks but could tell that the fairy wanted to show her something based on how it flew down to grab one of her fingers. It pointed and tugged.
Elodie decided to oblige it and followed it to a tree with a furled trunk. It landed softly next to a hole in the ground, maybe three inches deep, with a familiar curved shape. The fairy flitted quickly between Elodie's hand and the hole, urgently pointing at the hole.
"I understand, I think," Elodie said calmly, placing a single finger on the fairy's head to soothe it. It put both tiny hands up her finger and made a jingling noise.
Fen watched the interaction from underneath the dim of a tree, his tail flicking.
Elodie plucked some spotted, brown grasses from the ground, along with a sprig of orange wisteria that had fallen from one of the branches. The fairy hung off her arm and watched inquisitively as she pulled three dried berries from her pocket and pressed them into the wisteria, using the brown grasses to wrap and hold them in place. It was the kind of yule tithe a child might make: clumsy but earnest. Most importantly, it would do the job of being an offering to the fey during the winter, regardless of how pretty it did or did not look.
When the grass was securely tightened, she nodded and placed what was now a yule tithe into the divot. The fairy that accompanied her spun around it, filled with glee and relief.
Elodie offered up one of the remaining dried berries from her pocket and spoke to it with the same tone she'd talk to a child on the same subject. "You were very smart to show me this. I'd hate for one to get missed. No naughtier fairies will sneak through on Yule and play tricks here." The fairy gladly extracted the berry from her hands and held it over their head. Elodie stifled a laugh and said, "I'm glad you like it."
She looked at Fen and found he was watching with an eager stare. Did he also want a berry? When their gazes met, he abruptly looked away and paced over to another darkened canopy.
So he has that kind of side, too, Elodie thought.
The fairy held the berry close and flew several feet away. They turned and looked back at Elodie, waiting for her to follow again as they called out shrill noises. Several other fairies poked their heads from between branches and flowers as they walked past to see what the blue-winged fairy was going on about.
Soon, Elodie was surrounded by a small flock of fluttering wings and glowing silhouettes. Each of them took turns offering Elodie small baubles they'd found in the forest, to which she'd pinch between her finger and thumb, show an appraising stare, and then say something like "Ah, very lovely" or "Oh, yes, I can see this is very special." She was well accustomed to this game, having two younger siblings.
You are supposed to be finding an instrument, her muse reminded her, Not entertaining pixies.
"And I will," Elodie said, deciding to speak out loud since no one was around save for Fen and the fairies. She clapped her hands together softly. "Perhaps one of you could help me. I'm in search of an object that can become my instrument."
The fairies looked at one another, some flitting away in disinterest, others conversing amongst themselves in their trilling bird language. Two of them again took her by the fingers, pulling her deeper into the grove.
"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "I was thinking maybe some kind of antler bone would be intriguing, or maybe a rock so that it's sturdy and rather hefty." The fairies nodded along to her practical musings, all the while walking her past rows of orange-petaled trees. The branches hung lower and lower as they journeyed deeper, to where Elodie had to stoop over to duck under them. Eventually, they tangled so low that they became an impenetrable wall of vines, branches, and flowers.
"Um, I'm very sorry, but I don't think I can go further," she apologized, "I'm too big." Yellow and blue expressionless faces watched her from the dark spaces between the branches, little legs kicking as they held on. "Ah, wait." She righted herself and said, "If you please, could you move these branches out of the way so I can go through? Oh, but don't hurt them; I think that would make Thalia cross."
No.
"........ No?" Elodie repeated back, baffled. The pixies mirrored the confusion plain on her face.
Do you enjoy the taste of metal teeth?
"What's that supposed to mean?" Elodie felt a slight annoyance creeping into her tone, though she thought herself mature enough to restrain it. The little stomp she gave betrayed that notion, too.
You fall into traps too easily.
Her hands were tugged forward, and Elodie said, "I do not. You said to look for an instrument, and they might show me something I can use."
Might.
In rebellion, Elodie put a hand forward to see if she couldn't push some branches aside the old-fashioned way. The wall of foliage lurched quickly with a burbling heave, and Elodie fell entangled within like a mouse tucking itself away into a wooden corner of a house. Except unlike a mouse, Elodie was well and truly stuck, with pointy parts of the branches sticking in her sides and roots tangled around her feet. She tried to tug away, but that only made her yelp as some of her hair was pulled in the opposite direction.
Around her, the misbehaving pixies burst into laughter at the trick, and bells filled her ears.
See.
Elodie blew a breath upwards to push her bangs out of her face since her hands were now indisposed. Her muse's silence was answer enough as to how much it intended to help her out of this. Failure stung in her throat from this encounter and from everything since becoming an orator, and Elodie let out a long, guttural, very unladylike yell. She then quickly found her face turning red, a mixture of frustration and embarrassment flushing in her cheeks.
Fen plodded forward and clamped his teeth down on some branches, pulling them off her. Elodie was as touched by the gesture as she was quieted as an apology for her outburst.
The fairies watched in fits of laughter as Elodie and Fen untangled the branches. Many of them eventually grew bored and went to find other small objects and held them in a queue for Elodie to appraise once she was done ejecting herself.
Fen gave one branch a decisive tug, and Elodie hit the forest floor with a loud whump. Objects went scattering, and many fairies now emitted a high-pitched, beeping kind of alarm sound. They flitted around and bumped into one another in a panic, trying to relocate their collected goods.
"Oh dear," Elodie said, causing a dozen little heads to swivel in her direction. "It's my fault I fell." She began picking up feathered pinecones and petals, holding them up for examination. "Is this one yours? No? Maybe this one?"
Fen watched as Elodie struggled to help those who had tricked her not moments before with tail flicking and decided quietly to himself that he could trust her. He said nothing to allude to this fact.
What he did do was put his nose to the ground and sniff. He scented out an acorn, a sizeable beetle shell, and several pinecones hidden from sight behind an arch of roots. He nudged them onto a large leaf and gripped the edges of the leaf gently between his teeth like a knapsack as he brought them over to Elodie.
Elodie was surprised by the offer, and her breath caught a little. "Oh. Thank-" She gave a sheepish smile, remembering his warning yet again. "I've lost count of the times you've helped me." As she spoke, she took the leaf from his mouth and began distributing the objects to the fairies one at a time. It took a great deal of patience and several arguments later, she had most of the objects sorted back to their owners.
Presently, she said to Fen, "I thought maybe you didn't want to be here- or that you were only here out of obligation- but I think I'm figuring out you're just quiet around others, like me." A quick breath released a tension she didn't know she'd been holding, and she strangely felt the same relaxation rolling off of the gelert.
She finally asked the question she'd been wanting to ask but couldn't around Thalia. "Are you ... happy with this arrangement?"
Fen's head tilted an inch, his ears perked to one side.
"I just mean to say- um- if you need time to yourself or anything, please don't worry about me. I will be glad to have your company when I do." She thought she'd been making a friend in Thalia, but this morning's walk had made her less sure. What she was sure of was that Fen made her feel a little less alone.
"You're still too nice," Fen grumped, but Elodie felt no malice in his voice, only an assuredness. "I don't dislike it."
While thinking of Ann and Fen, Elodie's gaze grazed over the top of Fen to the trees behind him. The dusty bark was the same faded, blackish color of Ann's arm. She pictured Ann obediently following her in the woods and chattering with her about the strange color of the flowers. She felt a sudden pang of cold guilt: while she was out here ice skating and helping fairies, Ann was still waiting. Maybe the castle assembly was even looking for her right now.
Her brows knit in sudden, swift determination. She needed to find an object to make an instrument so that she could return home. Why had she been so set on finding something special and unique? It could be any object, Thalia had even said so. Had she been procrastinating after all?
She moved past a bewildered Fen and dropped Thalia's gifted walking stick as she did so. I need some way to reach a branch, Elodie thought, then I can begin.
That, I will help with, her muse purred.
Without Elodie needing to say a word, small blocks of dirt began to rise under her feet with each of her steps until she was at eye level with trails of wisteria. She gripped one branch of blackened wood between gloved fingers and pulled, yanking it off with a satisfying snap.
Elodie felt a renewed sense of purpose and drive as the soil gently lowered her back to the ground. She couldn't believe she'd almost forgotten why she was here in the first place. It wasn't to meet another orator or even to learn oration; it was to help Ann in any way she could.
"So you've chosen?" Fen asked, wearing his amused gelert grin. He seemed energized, circling her with a wagging tail.
The question filled her with a thrill that was so strong she was sure Fen could feel it too, and Elodie said to the air, "I'll need a comfortable place to sit and a pillow for Fen if he'd like one." She waved the branch, pointing where she wanted the oration to manifest. "I've got to talk to a stick!"