The Lost Princess

Chapter Sixty-Three: Feredir's Parents

Earwen walked slowly along, and she could feel Feredir's impatience. He was eager to arrive at his parents' house, but she was nervous. What if they didn't like her? Usually she loved meeting new people. But for some reason, meeting the young blacksmith's parents filled her with uncertainty.

"Come on, little sparrow. Keep up," he prodded, and the distance between them yawned ever wider.

Finally he turned back and frowned at her. She approached him and stopped, looking at her feet.

"You don't have to meet them if you don't want to."

Looking up, she could see the disappointment in his eyes. "No, I wish to meet them desperately," Earwen said quickly. "It's just...what if they don't like me? What if my being an elf—"

"Earwen," Feredir said, cutting her off. "They are going to love you. And you being an elf won't do anything to dissuade them."

She studied the young man. Butterflies still fluttered in her stomach, but she felt them lessen with his reassuring words. "Okay."

They continued on down the streets until they came to a small house. It was one of the few that had a small stretch of grass in front. Two chairs stood on either side of the doorway, and Earwen could imagine Feredir's parents spent many nights watching the foot traffic. Without a misstep, Feredir walked through the gate and through the front door without even a knock. Earwen rushed after him, heart pounding in her chest.

"Mother," the blacksmith called as he stepped through the front room and into the kitchen. A tall woman with waist-length brown hair and sweet brown eyes turned from her place before the counter and wrapped her arms around her son.

"Feredir, it is about time you arrived. The meal is nearly ready."

She looked over his shoulder and noticed Earwen. Immediately pulling back from her son, the woman smiled and moved toward Earwen, who stood shyly in the kitchen doorway.

"You must be the young women my son has told us so much about."

Earwen felt her face flush bright red, but Feredir was grinning proudly. "Yes, ma'am," she said softly. "My name is Earwen."

"What a beautiful name. I am Freya, mother of this brute of a young man."

Relief flooded Earwen at the woman's friendly joke. "He has been nothing but respectful to me."

"I'm glad to hear it," Freya said, cuffing her son behind the head.

"Hey!" Feredir was indignant.

"Shush, now. You go and retrieve your father while Earwen and I finish up."

Feredir rolled his eyes and headed for the front door. Earwen's anxiety resurfaced as she was left alone with Freya.

The woman smiled at her and pushed a bowl of green beans toward her. "Go ahead and snap the ends from those, and then we will add them to the stew."

Earwen nodded and quickly set to work. She took a moment to study Feredir's mother as she turned her attention to a pot of boiling stew. She was very tall but not nearly as sturdily built as most of the Taimanians were. She was slender, almost like Earwen herself. And her features were not hard but soft and gentle. She had given Feredir her eyes, it would seem. They had the exact same tender look.

"You are an elf?"

Earwen started and met Freya's eyes. "Yes, I am."

Freya now studied the young elf girl in return. "I have never seen an elf, though I had heard your kind is very beautiful. I see this was not a lie."

Blushing, Earwen furiously snapped the ends of the green beans while she thought of how to reply.

"No need to be nervous, my dear. Me and my husband hold no prejudice against your people. The war was long ago. And if Feredir considers you a friend, then so shall we."

"Thank you, Freya. I have grown very fond of your son."

At first the woman smiled, but then a sadness crossed her face. "He can be rash sometimes, but he means well."

Suddenly a loud, booming laugh echoed through the small house, making Earwen jump.

"Well, this must be the little elfling that has caught my son's eye."

Earwen was shocked at the size of the man who she assumed was Feredir's father. He was nearly seven feet tall and had the bulging muscles of a miner. Years of swinging a pickax had hardened the man to stone. He came forward, beaming, and placed a hand under Earwen's chin. He stared deeply into her eyes. His were dark gray and stormy, but his face showed laugh lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

"My, my, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." He released her and beamed at his wife. "Except for you, my love."

Freya rolled her eyes, but a smile touched her lips.

"Father, you're frightening her," Feredir scolded.

"I doubt that," boomed the man. "She looks mighty fierce with all that fiery hair."

Subconsciously Earwen touched the braid at her shoulder.

"Never seen such a brilliant color. Like the sun when there's a forest fire," Feredir's father continued.

"Tristan, stop teasing the poor girl and sit down."

Still jovial, the man obeyed his wife and sat at the table, removing a pipe from his shirt pocket. Earwen and Feredir sat as well and watched the older man load the pipe and light it. The sweet smell of tobacco filled the air, and Earwen watched him smoke with a small amount of fascination. The elves found tobacco offensive, though she wasn't sure she understood why.

Tristan noticed her staring and smiled at her while Freya set a large pot of stew in the center of the table, along with some bread. She ladled sizable portions into bowls and tore hunks of bread, passing them out to everyone in turn. Tristan continued to puff at his pipe for another few moments. Earwen tasted the stew and was surprised by its depth of flavor. It warmed her belly, and she closed her eyes blissfully, enjoying the simplicity of not only the meal but also the lifestyle these people seemed to live.

"Feredir tells me you are a princess," Freya said, and Earwen's eyes snapped open. She felt hot color fill her face.

"Yes, ma'am."

Freya seemed to look at her strangely. "I apologize we don't have finer accommodations for you."

Earwen didn't know what to say. Her hatred of her station resurfaced. "This is one of the finer evenings I have had since entering your beautiful city. The company is much preferred, and the food is perfection. I cannot express my appreciation for how you have opened your home to me."

Freya seemed touched by her sincere words, and Feredir did nothing to hide his happiness.

Tristan chuckled. "Well, now that we have that out of the way, eat before my wife's perfect stew grows cold." He now set aside his pipe and tucked in to the meal.

Earwen met eyes with Feredir, and he smiled before turning to his own bowl. She sighed contentedly and lost herself in the familial conversation as it swirled around her and taught her more about the people of Taiman, than any council meeting ever could.

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