Chapter 21
Princess Celestia watched as Sorceress Maeve hugged her knees to her chest. Just as the alicorn suspected, Maeve was still drugged from the brownie she had eaten. Overall, Maeve was handling this rather well. She had only screamed a little and was now quiet, more or less. Bjarke was sitting in a chair, a pained expression on his face. Celestia felt pity for him—it was clear that he longed to rush over and comfort his niece, but he restrained himself from doing so. As Princess Celestia continued to watch as everything unfolded, she saw Maeve’s hand slip from around her knee and go up to touch her pointed ear. The other hand, the one made out of living wood, was an issue that still had to be addressed. Maeve had noticed, but she had been screaming at the time, and nothing had been said about it since.
“My mother wasn’t human?” Maeve asked in a scratchy voice.
“Your mother… my sister… was ljásálfar. The Elves of the White. She gave up her blessing and chose a mortal life because she loved. My sister was very dear to me… I did not agree with her decision, but I did not stop her. She was free to make her own choices,” Bjarke replied in a low, soft voice that was filled with sorrow.
“Lunn was always going on about me not knowing what I was… what a prize I was.” Maeve closed her eyes and shook her head. After a long moment, she opened her eyes and then she looked at her now strange to her left arm, flexing her fingers, trying to take it all in.
“Bjarke says your arm and your hand are now made out of living wood.” Princess Celestia took a step closer to the bed. If she could engage Maeve’s natural curiousity, if she could keep Maeve asking questions, everything would be okay. At least, this is what Princess Celestia believed. How all of this would turn out remained to be seen.
“What am I?” Maeve lifted her head, sat up a bit straighter, and looked at Bjarke. “Am I fae? Are we fairies?”
“No.” Bjarke shook his head. “We are elves. Extradimensional beings. We have long been the allies of the Seelie Court, the good fairies, but this war has been costly and we have lost. I will explain more of this later.” Bjarke took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “We are nature spirits. We descend from tree spirits. Our role is to heal the ground and everything that grows out of it. There are many species who leave the ground soiled. Humans, goblins, orcs, ogres, giants, the fallen fae, all of which spread from place to place, trailing filth and polluting all they touch.”
Maeve shook her head, overwhelmed, and unable to reply.
“None of that is important right now. What is important is, I have found you. I can teach you about your heritage. I can teach you about magic, but your magic is much stronger than mine, even though you are half-elven—”
“Why?” Maeve asked.
“Why is your magic stronger?” Bjarke replied, raising one eyebrow.
Maeve nodded.
“Because you are female.” Bjarke shrugged. “That is the way of it. I do not know why that is. We males tend to be bigger, stronger, faster—more dexterous and nimble. Females tend to be more magical. It all balances out.”
Maeve, relaxing, dropped her knees from her chest and sat in a more relaxed position, while still keeping a wary eye on Bjarke. “My magic set me on fire… my magic caused this.” Maeve lifted her left hand and then wiggled her fingers. “At least I got back the finger I lost.”
“For certain spells, having an extended terminus point is wise,” Bjarke suggested. “I use my dagger or sometimes my short sword. Maeve, you must listen to me. We descend from tree spirits… we are vulnerable to fire. Exceedingly so. We are vulnerable to fire in the same way that the fairies are vulnerable to cold iron.”
“Oh.” Maeve blinked and then looked over at Princess Celestia. “Is this why your sun keeps burning me?”
Confused by the question, Princess Celestia let out a startled gasp. Her sun was almost Maeve’s most hated enemy, always burning Maeve. The alicorn looked at Bjarke and then back at Maeve. “That is a very good question Maeve. I do not know… my sun is somewhat different than other suns in other worlds.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I am feeling very hungry. I would like some food,” Maeve said in a low voice. “I feel lightheaded and dizzy.” Maeve reached up and rubbed her eyes with her right hand and then pinched her nose. “Bjarke, I don’t know how to feel about you. I will try to give you a fair chance, but you must not touch me. I do not always deal very well with being touched. I’m sorry, it is nothing personal.”
The elf bowed his head. “I understand. What was done to you was… disgraceful.”
“You seem very nice. Thank you for being respectful towards me and answering my questions.” Maeve looked at Celestia. “Can we please get something to eat?”
“Of course.” Princess Celestia smiled at Maeve. “Do you need some help getting up?”
“Yes please. I don’t feel steady.” Maeve scooted to the edge of her bed and placed her feet upon the floor. She rose, wobbled, and then was caught by an unseen force. “Bjarke, would you care to join me?” Maeve, her expression fearful, looked at her strange guest. “Could you tell me more about my mother?”
“I would love to share memories about my sister with you.” Bjarke rose, bowed his head, and then stood with his hands folded behind his back. “Princess Celestia, am I permitted to join you?”
“I think that would be a splendid idea. Before you leave this room, please make certain to secure your weapons… you know Bjarke, I think I will accept your offer. As of this moment, consider yourself one of my personal guard.” Princess Celestia reasoned that if Bjarke was obligated to follow her around, and if Princess Celestia spent time with Maeve, then that would be a good way to bring the two of them together in a way that Maeve might feel safe.
“As you command. My life for you,” Bjarke replied, bowing his head. He raised his hand, made a gesture, and then his weapons hung once more upon his belt. “You have my gratitude for looking after my niece.”
Maeve, looking confused, looked first at Bjarke and then her gaze focused upon Princess Celestia. She blinked, looking groggy, and then sighed. “I’ll ask questions later.”
“Before we go, Sorceress Maeve, you should put your sword away,” Princess Celestia said. She looked at Maeve. “Such a thing is just too dangerous to leave lying around on the floor.”
While Princess Celestia was none too pleased about the conversation, she was happy that Maeve and Bjarke were talking with one another. Maeve was shy, she was cautious, she was fearful, but at the same time, Maeve was also fearless, she was bold, and forward. Maeve was a body made of contradictions.
“—and then I sliced her head off. That sword will go through anything. I took her crown… the crown helps my magic and it makes me feel a little funny when I wear it. Kind of cranky.” Maeve crammed a big spoonful of macaroni and cheese into her mouth, chewed once or twice, and then swallowed. “The crown is called ‘Choróin ar an Bitseach.’ Do you understand that name?”
Bjarke began to choke, his eyes going wide. He coughed, still choking, and then began to laugh even as he struggled to breathe. He glanced at Maeve, then at Celestia, and then covered his mouth as he tried to recover.
“What’s so funny?” Maeve asked and then filled her mouth with coleslaw. For a time, the sounds of her noisy chewing was the only sound present.
“The name translates to ‘Crown of the Bitch,’ so it is no wonder it makes you feel cranky,” Bjarke replied. Looking over at the strange pony creature that he was indebted to sitting at the table with him, he gave her an apologetic smile.
“Oh.” Maeve’s eyes widened. “So that is why Queen Oonagh was the way she was, because she was a real bi—”
“Sorceress Maeve, do not dare utter that word!” Celestia said in an urgent shout. “A Sorceress must keep a civil tongue!”
“Fudge.” Maeve slumped down in her chair. Pouting, she gobbled down more macaroni and cheese, chewing with a scowl that caused the corners of her eyes to crinkle.
“Your mother once turned me into a warty toad for uttering a profane word.” Bjarke’s shoulders drooped and he stared down at his plate.
“My mother gave up her magic… I don’t understand… you said you are immortal… how can she just become mortal again and die?” Maeve asked in a low voice as she studied Bjarke.
“Maeve, powerful magic was used. Your mother, my sister… she and I lived for thousands of turns of the seasons on many, many worlds. She began to feel that our existence was meaningless. Some of our kind, we are not cut out for immortality. She chose to be mortal… to fall in love. She loved your father.” Bjarke fell silent as a pained expression crept over his face. “The less said about that, the better.”
“So you are immortal… can you die?” Maeve asked.
“I am only immortal as far as aging goes. I can be killed. I can die. If you run me through with a sword, I can be killed. I can die from disease or poison,” Bjarke replied.
Princess Celestia inhaled and held her breath for a moment. Very few beings understood the pain of immortality. The long stretch of centuries and how they turned into eons. She looked at Bjarke, feeling a growing sense of respect.
“How long will I live?” Maeve asked.
“That is hard to say.” Bjarke closed his eyes, heaved a sigh, and then opened his eyes so he could look at Maeve. “You are distressingly mortal. One day, I will lose you, and then everything I had of my beloved sister will be gone. Half elves can live for a very, very long time though. Or they can live short lives.”
“I don’t know if I want to live that long… I don’t want to see all of my friends grow old and die… what would I do without Red?” Maeve set her fork down upon the table, then she reached up and she wiped her eyes with the back of her right hand.
“Red?” Bjarke, glad to have the subject changed, leaned forwards. He saw the curious pony creature glancing at him. “Who is Red? Tell me more about this friend of yours.”
“Red Russet is an earth pony. He’s my best friend. I tell him my secrets. He’s named after a potato and he has a talent for blending tea.” Maeve smiled as she thought about the colt she called her friend. She had fond feelings for him. She started to blush, a peculiar feeling coming over her. She didn’t know why she was blushing. She looked at Celestia, then back at Bjarke. “I would do anything for Red. He has my trust.”
“I would like to meet him and thank him for looking after my niece.” Bjarke’s thin, delicate brows furrowed. “Earth pony… is there some kind of connection with the ground? Are they like us, we tree spirits?”
“Yes, actually,” Princess Celestia replied, glad to have an opportunity to share knowledge. “Earth ponies have no horn and no wings. They tend not to have active magic like unicorns, but there are exceptions. Earth ponies tend to have extraordinary strength. Everywhere they go, they purify the land and the water benefits from their touch. They are the foundation on which my entire kingdom is built. They are gentle, loving spirits, natural empaths, and I find them to possess healing talents that cure the mind, even though I cannot yet explain this phenomenon.”
“Fascinating… it sounds as though Red is an ideal companion for Maeve.” Bjarke looked at his niece. “I am relieved that you found this place of healing. I like this place.”
“This is my home. I have no desire to ever leave.” Maeve’s face took on a troubled expression and her cheeks became drawn as her lips pressed into a tight, thin line. “If I live for a long time, at least I will have Princess Luna and Princess Celestia.”
“Princess Luna?” Bjarke asked. “I keep hearing her mentioned. Maeve said her name several times.”
“My sister,” Celestia replied. “I suppose there is still so much more to tell you…”
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... This talk about Maeve's father makes me wonder, exactly what her mother saw in him.
All we knew is him after what was an apparent psychosis. Is that, as Bjarke says, entirely due to Maeve's mother's inspiration of insanity when she was gone? Was he truly an exceptional person before that?
6346524
He was a simple man. A farmer. He took his family on a long boat ride across an ocean in search of a better life.
And yes, he was a good man at one time. A kind, simple sort.
6346524
Also, this fatal beauty, this attraction, this devotion, it becomes even more sad when you realise what is already happening.
Maeve is entirely too much like her mother. To know her is to love her. Consider this for a time, and think of all possible implications.
'not too pleased'?
Cute! I love how this story is developing.
6346717
"none too pleased" is a common enough turn of a phrase.
6357947 I find your humor very wooden. You are acorny person. You need to leaf me alone, I'm bushed. I am stumped as to how you think this is okay.
6346548
Given that Maeve's father was driven to madness, is Red going to slowly lose his mind the more time he spends with Maeve?
6359884
Only if he loses her.
6358807
Well, at least you can't call me arborean person.
I am very entertaining.
6359893
i.imgur.com/s3z7IgN.gif
6359891
Delightful.
I like where this is starting to go.
Oh yeah, I'm liking this.
And I thought he gave a hundred years of his life, which confounded me(but hopeful for a funny explanation), this makes much more sense.