I stood paralyzed.
The queen ran toward me. “Snowdrop?” I could see tears in her eyes.
I approached her timidly. She can cry on command.
“Mother?”
“I thought you were dead, my child. The huntsman was an assassin hired by the king of East Marchen. He—the huntsman—told me you had been torn apart by wild beasts in the wood after wandering off by yourself to pick berries. My poor, dear child. My precious child.”
She clutched me tightly to her bosom. So tight I struggled to breathe.
“How did you find me?”
“Remember that mirror you had an absurd fear for? It told me that you were alive and where I could find you.”
Once again I made the mistake of opening my heart. Hungry for the love she never had for me.
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It has been a while. Behind my closed lids, I can still tell that the sunlight is fading. I must have been asleep for a while.
My seven little men have returned. It has been one day. Still no signs of restored life to this body of death. My limbs are completely numb. My trunk and face have some sensation—mostly painful. Still unable to move.
My heart fills with hope as they weep over me. “No pulse that I can detect,” says Loamy. “But no decay either.”
Sandy’s voice is desperate. “Maybe we should rub her limbs again. Or get her body so warm she could sweat it out. If only we knew what poison has been used on her. Lilith is mistress of the black arts.”
Metamorphic speaks. “Do you suppose that the girl is not only alive—but can still hear us?” Apparently the others show that they don’t think so.
“I don’t care,” the marble-colored gnome replies. “Snowdrop, if you can hear me, please try to come back. Can you feel my hand? Squeeze it if you can.”
I can’t even feel his touch, but it comforts me to know he hasn’t given up yet. It may take another day or two, but this paralysis should wear off. It hasn’t killed me yet. I will likely recover. That one little bite wasn’t enough.
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I carelessly shared that I had been kept alive by seven really good friends. Gnomes.
Immediately Mother’s interest piqued. “Gnomes, hmm? Elemental spirits?”
“Yes.” I felt uncomfortable at that greedy, ravenous face so close to me. A face disconcertingly like my own.
“So, tell me Snowdrop…” She lowered her voice though no one else was around. “Have they revealed any of their secrets to you?”
“Secrets?”
“Yes. The occult knowledge possessed by any of them grants the one who knows and can wield it power beyond mortal ken. Whether power over the earth, the air, the water, or fire. Any one of those could make you powerful beyond the dreams of any monarch.”
“W-would you like to see the shelter where I’ve been staying, Mother?”
“Snowdrop, my sweet, I heard rumors at the inn nearby that all four kinds of elemental beings meet in this wood. Is there any truth to this? Have your friends, the gnomes, shared any of this with you?"
Remembering my promise to them, I looked down. “No Mother.” Though I knew I was doing right, I felt guilt. She is my mother after all. She always will be.
Staring for half a minute as though her eyes were gimlets drilling holes into me, the queen finally smiled and gave a little laugh. “Show me the shelter my child.”
It was not far. It took little time to show her my simple living accommodations. The hole and pit for cooking and heating myself in the winter. A smaller pit just outside for cooking when it was warm. The pot, pan, kettle, and other utensils I used. The simple plank table with three stools. And my bed in a corner. Some boards holding up a straw mattress with a pillow and a few blankets over it.
“This is charming, Eva. Very charming.” Mother gushed in a manner foreign to herself. “Such a quaint little cottage. You have kept it so neat. So attractive. Just like yourself, dear daughter.” She passed her hands over my hair once or twice.
“It’s been three years since you left me. Did you know that Snowdrop?”
“Yes, Mother. I turned seventeen just before Midsummer. That was a few weeks ago.”
“How you have grown. You no longer look like a child, but a regal young lady.”
“Thank you.” Something was off.
“Your hair is passible. But you need to dress appropriately for a young woman now. Do you have corsets, honey?”
“Yes. A couple. I’m wearing one now.”
The queen looked me over. “Would you like me to lace you up properly my child?”
“All right, Mother.”
I removed my outer garments. She got in back of me.
She pulled the laces tighter. “Do you know about the comings and goings of your gnome friends?”
“Please don’t ask.” She pulled the laces very tightly all the sudden. It took my breath away. I ached.
“You know, but just won’t say. Is that it?”
“I—promised—not—to tell.” I answered in gasps.
“A pity,” she muttered. It sounded as though her teeth were clenched. She yanked the strings so tight it seemed I could no longer breathe and collapsed.
I was still able to get a tiny amount of air. With the help of a pocketknife I’d been given for keeping the doorway clear, I cut the corset strings in front so I could breathe freely.
I called out the rhyme I’d been given. As I finished, the queen poked her head around from an outer corner of the cottage. I screamed.
Just then, three of my gnomes rose from the dirt around me. The queen gasped and took to her heels.
All seven of them took turns lecturing me that evening. They were probably as disturbed as I was that my mother—my enemy—had found where I lived.
Finally Metamorphic looked at me. “I think Eva has learned her lesson,” he said. “What should we do now?”
Loamy sighed. “Maybe the girl should move elsewhere.”
“But where?” I asked.
“What about the capital? Make your way there and ask the king for political asylum.”
“I thought the king had passed away.”
“The old king, yes. He fell in battle five years ago. His son Hildebrand has taken over. A decent ruler and wise beyond his years.”
I sighed. “How far through Furstenwald must I travel?”
“Don’t worry,” Loamy assured me. “Give us a week. One of us will set out with you so you won’t have to make the journey alone. Aerie and Sprague will also go with you. And I’ll see that Pyro or Ignato from the salamanders join you as well.”
Silt groaned. “Let me guess. You plan on having me go.”
“Actually, I was planning on leading the party myself.”
“I’ll go. That is—if you don’t mind, Loamy.” All of us stared at Metamorphic.
“That’s fine. Great in fact. I will be able to stay here and help make arrangements for autumn.”
“Just remember,” said Igneous—turning back to me, “If you see the queen before then—even from far away—call for us. She longs to control us for magic, but she never will. We would destroy her first.”
“So why is she scared of you?”
“We scare her because we are not her slaves. She doesn’t value us gnomes—nor the salamanders, sylphs, and undines for ourselves. We are desirable only as things to be beaten into machines to feed her lust for power. As long as she cannot control us, we terrify the witch.”
The next day I traveled to the village for rye bread, sausage and cheese for the journey. The gnomes had said that was all right since my home itself was no longer a guarantee of safety.
I bought them at the market. On my way out of town, a foreign peddler stopped me. Swarthy, with a big black beard, he dressed and spoke like he came from the far south.
“Pretty lady, I have nice things for you.”
I smiled, said “No thank you,” and continued.
“Please look.” Something he held up glittered in the corner of my eye. I turned my head and admired it.
A lovely comb. The kind used not for combing but hair ornaments. Gilt tortoise shell with little diamonds and seed pearls sparkling along the rim.
“You want it? Take it.”
“Isn’t it expensive?”
“Some nice signor—I think he was a noble—paid for it. He said to give it to the lovely girl with the fair skin, red lips and long, black hair.”
I cautiously took it from his hand. But with many blandishments he insisted on passing it through my hair once or twice. He told me to stick it in hard to hold the hair in place as I pulled away. A lot of villagers were around.
After thanking him, I put it in my apron pocket and left.
I stuck it in, but my hairs are really fine, so it fell out. I didn’t feel like arranging my tresses as I focused on the journey home.
That afternoon I grew sick. I ached and felt as though I were feverish. Especially my upper head. My scalp itched and burned. Clumps of hair fell out. I touched two scabs and realized they were where I had stuck the comb into my scalp to hold my hair. As I pulled the comb out of my apron, I was shocked to find the teeth looked like melted tar.
That evening, I felt well enough to sit up and tell my friends about my mother’s second attempt on my life.
This really upset me. Loamy yelled at me till I broke down and wept. They had never done that before.
He took a breath. “I’m sorry, child. We don’t want anything to happen to you. And—truth be told—we are sorry to lose you too.”
Clay suggested that until I set out for the capital, they take turns watching me. He would start at nine after the rest of them left. One could spell him at midnight. Another at three in the morning. Another at six after their morning visit. And so on till the evening when all seven visit me between six and nine pm.
Loamy agreed, promising to show up at midnight. They insisted I lie down early and talked to me tenderly, putting cold drinks near me and throwing thick blankets over my body. “To sweat out the poison,” said one.
By morning I felt better and the scabs where the poisonous comb had touched my scalp no longer itched or oozed.
Sandy was there and poured me some tea to go with my breakfast of bread and cheese. The other six arrived shortly after.
“Come out,” Loamy said. “We have something to show you. And I have news.”
From his grave tone I wondered if I would like it.
The risen sun caused an oblong object several yards from the hut to sparkle. They led me to what looked like a cross between a bed or coffin with a glass lid.
“What is it?” None of them answered.
The top had some ornate gilding. Ornamentation near the handle. On one side was a venomous snake coming down from an olive tree. On the other side an identical tree could be seen. An identical snake had been snatched up in the beak of a giant dove. Like two frames of a story. A lot of holes were around it.
They had decided that I would set out with my entourage the next day. At dawn.
“We’re not taking any more chances, Snowdrop.”
It was nice to know that at least I could properly say goodbye to all of them first. Promising something extra nice for that evening, they all took off except for Sediment who was taking his turn.
He proved to be obnoxious and clung near the entire time. It would have been bad enough if he’d been quiet but instead he lectured me about the danger I was in.
Metamorphic spelled him at noon. To my relief he proved a much more easy-going guard.
As the afternoon wore on, I grew very hot. I asked him if I could go take a dip in the creek. He agreed as long as I promised to come back immediately afterward and call for help at the first sign of anything odd.
I gladly agreed. Remembering how worried he had looked I kept my bath brief and dressed quickly. I took the footpath back and found him nowhere. Then I checked the hut and found him fixing a bundle for me. Not just of food but gifts he and the others had gotten for me.
Overwhelmed I went out to cry a little. This place had been my home for three years. Tomorrow I would leave it—and my friends. Maybe forever.
A slight rustle made me turn my head. Perhaps it was just a rabbit or lost lamb?
Near a mulberry bush I found a giant basket of beautiful fruit. A note on top read, “Enjoy. From your seven little friends.”
The topmost fruit was a great apple. One cheek shining red and the other gold.
I bit the red cheek. It was sweet. Too sweet. Sweeter than crusty marzipan. A cloying sweetness I can still taste though my body feels like a block of wood as I lie powerless in the glass case they showed me that day…
When I came to—paralyzed and blind—Metamorphic was holding me, weeping and calling for help from his brothers.
Dear Lord God in Heaven, please let me recover soon and rejoin them with the rest of the living world You have made.