Lady of the Veiled Vale

First Day on the Job

She woke slowly, reluctantly. It was a blessed relief not having a maid scolding her for being a layabout. Is it a holiday? She wondered. Then the events of the previous day trickled in, and she smiled. Oh yes, a permanent holiday, she decided.

She was behind the changing screen when she felt the air pressure in the room change. She buttoned the last few buttons of her shirtwaist and poked her head around the corner.

"Good morning. I brought breakfast."

Gwinn ducked back behind the screen to catch her breath. He did say he woke the other Ladies up. Why is my heart pounding so hard? She rolled her eyes heavenward. Her head lolled back until it hit the wall with a soft thud. Right. A god brings me breakfast in the treehouse of a fantasy realm, and my heart is supposed to pretend it's just another day? She turned so her forehead rested against the cool wood. Pull yourself together, girl. This is the rest of your life. It is just another day, so get out there and face him. You're the only one attracted here, so just get over it.

Despite her inner pep talk, her heart knocked about her chest at the first sight of him. He was wearing a midnight blue version of his robe and breeches, though this pair was tight about his ankles to facilitate the boots that hugged them. They puffed out above, giving him a rakish sort of elegance.

"That must be comfortable." Oh, that was smooth.

He motioned for her to sit first. "It is, yes. I'm not hampered or restricted in my movements, and I look damn good, if I may say." He eyed the skirt and shirt from yesterday critically. "I doubt you could say the same. If you'd like, the elves could fashion you a skirt that didn't tangle round your ankles so much."

Gwinn let the good-looking boast pass. "A lady doesn't reveal her ankles, or so I'm told."

He snorted. "Who's going to see them? Nobody that would tattle, that's for sure. The elven style is just above the ankle. The highest that I've seen was mid-calf, at the most. If you're that concerned about your ankles, you can always wear leggings under the skirt. Actually, considering your line of work, I'd wear them anyway."

She swallowed a bite of the lightest omelet she'd ever had. "I never was one for leggings. They make my skirts look lumpy."

He held up a finger. A moment later, Varla walked in. She held a wispy garment that looked ready to fly away as soon as she let go of it. Instead, the silky stuff pooled in Gwinneth's hands.

"But... won't people see right through it?" She stammered. A blush was creeping up her collar just imagining someone in the filmy breeches.

Varla lifted a leg and plunked it on the arm of her chair. She gasped reflexively, then a second time when she saw that the elf maid wore the very things she held in her hand.

"May I?" She looked up at the girl, who snorted.

"Trust me lass, 'tis the same you've got in yer hand. Not see-through atall, now is it?"

Gwinneth stuck her arm through the stocking she held, and sure enough, it was as opaque as her skirt. "Well I'll be," she marveled.

Varla left as abruptly as she'd entered. Gwinn was so enthralled she barely noticed.

"With these leggings, I could wear a skirt all the way up to my knees, and nobody'd see a thing! I'd ne'er believe anyone but the elves could pull off something like this!" She was remembering the stories she'd read (and heard among the "common folk") about the fantastical abilities of elves.

The elf brought in a shorter skirt that was so light she barely knew she wore it. When she came out from behind the screen, she did an impulsive little skip and spin, just to see the material flutter. Then her face fell. "Oh, but I can't work in this! It's much too beautiful to wear. It might get ruined."