I awoke to the sound of the door swinging open. The pattering of little footsteps.
Opening my eyes and blinking in confusion I sat up.
“Who are you?” A face with roughhewn features stared into mine. The eyes were bright purple. Amethysts. Sparkling like literal jewels. The face—and the rest of the speaker, including his clothes—were the color of earth.
The others gathered around. All had gem-colored eyes. All colored like dirt, but different kinds. Dwarfish.
I made out the sunrise just beyond the hills through the only window in the hut. None of these creatures were human. I trembled, not just from fear but the uncanniness of the situation.
“I’m sorry,” making a curtesy and brushing off the dry leaves. “It was dark, but now that it’s morning, I’ll be on my way. Thank you for your gracious hospitality, since this place seems to belong to you, good sirs.”
I wondered if a den of bandits would have been better or worse. I almost took some gold coins out of my purse but remembered tales of how insulted the Fair Folk had been.
“Nothing in your purse we need,” said the leader.
The one to his left whistled. “A human girl. Do you suppose this is what Arria the Sylph and Sprag the Undine were referring to when they mentioned, ‘A surprise waiting at your lodge’?”
“Now that she’s seen our meeting place, we can’t just let her leave,” muttered one.
“Funny. I didn’t know humans turn different colors like that. She’s gone all chalky white. Do you suppose the creature’s shaking has anything to do with that?”
Almost weeping, I said, “I-I promise not to tell if you let me go.”
“Now you’ve done it. Gone and frightened her,” grumbled the leader. “Don’t worry, girl. We weren’t going to kill you—since that seems to be what you’re thinking. Just carry you off and place some glamour over you so you can’t find our place again. And build a new lodge elsewhere. Now, what is your name?”
“Snowdrop,” I decided to withhold my true name for now.
“We are the gnomes assigned to this part of the woods and the meadows nearby. Elemental spirits appointed to watch over this area by the Creator.” He and the rest bowed deeply in worship at this. “We would never harm one of you humans who are made in His own image. But we try to avoid you as a rule.
“Now, I suppose you want our names. I’m Loamy,” he thumped his chest. “I take care of the topsoil where the life is concentrated.” All of him—including his clothes—was the color of the rich soil the gardeners love. Only his amethyst eyes contained color. The tallest of the seven, he stood level with my chest.
“I’m Clay,” said the one on his left. He was the color of reddish clay with emerald eyes.
Then Sandy. Light brown in color with ruby eyes.
Silt. Darkish brown with sapphire eyes.
Igneous. The color of a glowing rock. Diamond eyes.
Sediment. A bunch of different colors of dirt. Opal eyes.
Metamorphic. The color of marble with eyes of quartz.
I’d mistakenly thought Metamorphic wanted to kill me. Now I appreciate how deeply mistaken this was.
Finally, I shared my story with them. Including my name Eva.
Loamy looked me over. “You are a foreigner?”
“Yes.”
“Stay here till evening. We have duties to attend to, but we’ll return at sundown and bring you food. Till then, here’s some bread and there’s a creek not far away. Don’t thank me…Arria begged that from a shepherd. Thought you might get hungry. The fact is we could use your services. More later.”
I expected them to float or slide away like the sylphs, salamanders or undines. But being gnomes, they plodded heavily off till they sunk into the earth.
I ate the bread, drank from the not too muddy creek, and rested most of the day. In the early afternoon, I found a branch broken from a fir tree. Probably by a strong wind. I shook off the loose needles and used it to sweep out the hut. My makeshift broom was good enough for sweeping the dirt floor.
As the shadows grew long, I sat outside and waited. They showed up before sunset.
“We came early today,” said Clay. “Don’t expect this every evening.”
Loamy gestured. Silt and Igneous brought forward a large basket. It contained a loaf of fresh brown bread, a round of cheese, an onion, a piece of roasted mutton, a bunch of raisins, a flask of wine and another flask of goat’s milk. And a little knife and napkin.
“Real human food. We paid for it with a kettle of buried treasure Silt located. The original owner had no heir. A miser who died years ago after burying it near his threshold. Also this.” Loamy himself placed a sack before me. It contained two blankets, a tinder box, and a number of candles. “For the night.”
They told me they didn’t need human food and didn’t like much of it. Though Metamorphic accepted a piece of onion, saying he liked the taste of root vegetables.
“Snowdrop—do you prefer that to Eva?”
I shrugged. “Either one.” Both names came from the woman who most hated me.
“You can stay here. At least for the rest of the summer.” He placed the kettle before me. “This is your payment if you agree to work for us.”
“What do you want me to do?” I asked nervously.
“Not far from here, where the woods grow thick very fast, we have a meeting place. A small clearing where we meet with the sylphs, undines, and salamanders. We plan how to keep the elements working together smoothly as long as this place remains wild.
“We don’t want humans to watch us. Sometimes we are visible to the human eye. Always audible. Our plans are not mortals’ business. Some magicians and witches might even try to make slaves of us. To bend us to their will. Others might stumble upon us and suffer a great fright we want to spare them.
“Snowdrop, just check the path from this cottage to the forest twice a day. If it looks used, follow it to the creek and follow it to the clearing. Just after sunrise and then before sunset.”
He and the other gnomes led me to the clearing. And told me what to look for.
“If you see signs of another person, let us know when we return here later that someone has discovered or may discover us. If you see someone and suspect him of trying to spy on us, that’s an emergency. Go to the back of this hut where the window is located. Shout all our names, starting with Loamy. Then sing this:
Sons of earth, come to me now/ At the hut neath linden bough.
I recited this several times. They lighted a candle for me, patted my head, and left.
Despite their small size they adopted a protective air. Normal for older men. These diminutives of the fairy folk were not men, I reminded myself. But they seemed good.
I went back to sleep after placing a blanket over the leaves to sleep on. It was still summer, and the night stayed warm.
The next day I carried out my new duties after greeting the seven at dawn. I made a few mistakes that summer in how I was told to carry out my duties.
Three years went by. No real emergencies.
My seven little men were better than nobody, but I was alone a lot. And I missed humanity.
They sent me into the local village for supplies once a month. But they instructed me to avoid talking more than needed. Knowing they were right about the need for prudence, I gladly obeyed.
This spring a lost ewe wandered near the hut. I heard her bleating. She had fallen on her back. Just then, a girl of fourteen or fifteen happened to come by, calling “Gretel!”
Before she could get close to the hut or the path I was guarding, I helped the sheep up and rubbed her legs so she could walk again. Then I swatted Gretel, so she ran off bleating toward the shepherdess.
It was a lovely reunion. I told my dwarves about it that evening and mentioned how tempted I had been to take the sheep out myself and talk to the girl. I suddenly realized I was older than she was since I had been in the forest for a while. Not sure what we would have talked about.
“We are very glad you didn’t,” said Loamy. “If you can avoid talking to the humans who venture here—or being seen by them—do so.”
“What does it mean when water comes out of their eyes?” asked Metamorphic.
“It usually means they are sad. Especially when they make those sounds too.” Sandy approached me. “Are you sad, mortal child?”
I nodded and cried harder.
Loamy sighed heavily. “We have done the best we can to help you, Snowdrop. It makes sense you are unhappy. It’s not good for humans to be cut off. From the look of you it is about time for you to find someone—husband is the word—to make little humans with.”
Sandy asked how they should set about finding me one of those. The others asked the same, pointing out the difficulties with my secluded situation. Then they demanded details about what I would prefer in a mate. Not knowing what to say, I begged to be allowed to eat my evening meal in peace.
A few days went by. Every now and then, one would hint about the need for them to find me a mate. Not only was this awkward, but I also began to worry over what they might bring home for me.
I had more than one nightmare involving this scenario. Not only was the man they picked frightening, but my guardians behaved in a way that embarrassed me.
This worry never materialized. Something else I should have expected but didn’t.
One morning I was drinking at the nearby brook and paused to wash and brush my hair. I glanced in a small pool near the shallows to arrange my hair under the kerchief.
As I started back to the clearing I stopped. For a brief moment I imagined I was still looking in the pool.
My own image gazed back at me in the sunlight. But older and dressed in fine linens and purple with a golden necklace. The eyes were narrower and golden brown instead of blue.
“Snowdrop?”
It was the queen. My mother.