Page 8 of No Ordinary Drakeling
Triumphant that he was different because there was a dragon inside him, Ellery jumped from his chair and raced outside. He did not know how the beast would help him fly if he was stuck inside, and he poked a finger into his belly to see if he could touch him. His stomach gurgled as hours had passed since his morning meal, but nothing else of import happened. With a shrug, Ellery happily gathered food.
His father was set to return any day, and he had to make sure he took good care of his mother until then. He wanted Harry to be proud of him and most importantly, he wanted to learn how to fly. It did not matter to him any longer about the other children and their cruelty. They were jealous that he was more than just an elf, and it was why they were so mean to him. Ellery would stick to his home and not bother with those fools anymore.
* * *
By the time he was eighty, Ellery had accepted that his father was nothing more than a lout. A man who met his mate, impregnated her, then left her behind. As time passed from when he was ten and first learned of Harry, more details slipped from Aynleth. She’d only known him for a few weeks, and as soon as he discovered the baby in her belly, he ran from her side. He was not coming back, and Ellery didn’t particularly care. A part of him wasn’t even sure if he truly was a dragon or if it was some tale Harry told Aynleth.
Of course she could have easily come up with the story herself, for Ellery had learned that there was something not wholly sane about his mother. Though Ellery thought he might have a beast inside him, there was no way to know for sure. He always felt different from the other elves, and his ears remained distinctly pointed but much smaller than that of his tribespeople. He was the tallest of the elves around him, and his shoulders were a bit broader. However, he wasn’t about to believe that at any moment he was going to sprout wings and fly.
“Ellery, why are you standing around? We need to clean this place up,” Aynleth sang merrily as she glided over to the table where he was letting his thoughts wander. She was wearing her best linen dress, and her hair was piled on her head.
“Mom, it is clean. I scrubbed the floors and rinsed our dishes. I was just about to check on the crops.”
“Your father could be here at any moment. Let’s finish cleaning, and then we will wait outside together.”
“I have too much to do. I cannot stand outside waiting for someone who is never coming back.”
Her happy face fell, making Ellery feel horrible. “Do not say that. Harry said he would be back.”
“Eighty years ago.”
“He had things to take care of.”
“That is a long to-do list, Mom.”
“You are so hateful. It is your fault he left, you know. If you had not come along, I would be with Harry now.”
With a sigh, Ellery got to his feet. “Stay in the hut. I do not want to have to use the rope again.”
Over the last couple of years, Aynleth’s grip on reality had slipped away and more than once, someone in the tribe caught her wandering far from their hut. Chieftain Vulconith moved them to the edge of his property, and everyone kept their distance. To keep Aynleth safe, Ellery ripped up old linens and made a soft rope to tether her to the hut whenever she ventured outside. It was sad and humiliating for them both, but it was the only thing he could do to help her.
To survive, Ellery tended a small farm and did his best to trade for the things they needed. Most of their tribe were unwilling to even speak to them, but Ellery continued to try relentlessly. On occasion he was even able to get a book or two—his passion besides the few flowers he tended next to his food. Those two things kept him calm and allowed him to escape from the volatility of dealing with his only parent. He doubted he would be sane without his hobbies.
When Ellery was sure Aynleth wasn’t about to leave the hut—she was singing horribly off-key and dancing around the room on her tiptoes—he went outside to tend to his tiny field. The sun was shining, and he enjoyed the heat on his face. He bent over and rolled up the coarse cotton pants he wore to protect them from the dirt. Ellery had only one other pair, and he’d mended them so many times, the last few inches were practically a patchwork quilt.
Going straight to his flowers, he tugged out some pesky weeds as he pondered his life. He hoped someday Harry-I’m-a-dragon did show up at their hut. Ellery would love the opportunity to tell him what he thought of a man who would so desecrate a matebond by knocking up his other half, then abandoning her. Aynleth’s parents died in some ancient war, and she had no one to help her. Ellery still wondered how she’d managed to give birth to him.
She didn’t make friends as her personality was unsteady. One moment she was happy and singing while the next found her in tears. Sometimes she couldn’t raise herself from her bed and others, Ellery had to bribe her by promising to braid her hair just to get her to lie down. It was exhausting, and Ellery would love for Harry to know that it was his disappearance that kept her trapped in a fantasy of a happy life that wasn’t ever going to happen.
Harry was somewhere far away, and Ellery couldn’t imagine he was going to drop everything eighty years later and save two people in a tiny hut in an isolated part of Montana. Ellery did not know much about the outside world; their tribe hadn’t joined the Council of Sorcery and Shifters which governed over most magical people on their continent. They did trade with humans, which was how they learned English. Before that, all they spoke was Elvish since the Fen-Lynthi tribe was as old as time, but they were down to less than five dozen people.
Although they’d moved to North America before Ellery’s birth, he had no idea why since his chieftain didn’t want to join the Council. Ellery wondered what benefits the people who were a part of it enjoyed. Like Aynleth, Ellery found himself imagining a place very different from the one he lived in now. It made Ellery question whether someday he too would need to be roped to the hut, so he didn’t wander off aimlessly and lose track of himself. He hoped not; he hated that his mother was reduced to tears when she couldn’t remember where her home was or sometimes even the name Aynleth.
Pushing aside his maudlin thoughts, Ellery rededicated himself to eradicating the weeds trying to suffocate his Shasta daisies along with his lilies of the valley. Ellery loved the pristine white of the blooms; it was a color that had always appealed to him. He supposed it was because it appeared clean and his clothing never did. He couldn’t afford the luxury of cloth so light—even if he could find an elf willing to trade him any. The Fen-Lynthi were supposed to only want to wear black and green, but Ellery had never felt like a part of his tribe, so he didn’t worry over that tradition. Humming to his plants, Ellery tuned out the world and thought only of clearing his mind, so he would have the serenity necessary to return to his hut.
