A Lilliputian Perspective (reupload)

Chapter 13

Hilda awoke in a cold sweat. After the near death experience she had earlier, she kept dreaming about water. Submerged in water. It filled up her lungs and her vision blurred and darkened as the light from the surface grew farther away until it was a speck, or nothing at all.

Peeking out of the fluff of Twig's tail, Hilda takes a long and deep breath to ensure she was alive. When she was certain there wasn't any shed fur on her clothes, she turned to the sleeping Thunderbird beside her. From his other side, she could hear Alfur's faint humming- a tune she found nostalgic and familiar, but she could not remember where she had heard it before.

A playful instinct rises within her. She tries to sneak up on him.

"You're up early again," he says. She pouts, sitting down in defeat, but crawling closer in curiosity when she sees he's drawing something in his little notebook.

"You draw?"

"On the occasion! Elves do more than just write, you know! I'd say you and your mother have astounding drawing skills," he comments, "when I was little, I loved drawing, but my father... said it wasn't good enough."

"But you draw very well! Especially for someone without any hands," Hilda replies, smiling at the deerfox in the drawing.

Alfur gives Hilda a soft smile. He still looked very tired and on edge.

"Nothing I did was ever good enough for him," he mutters. Hilda can sense the growing tension.

"Hilda, yesterday, when you-"

"I'm sorry!" Hilda blurted out. Alfur holds her arm rather tightly.

"No, no, I'm sorry," he whispers, trying to keep his voice down as to not wake Raven, "you were drowning and I did nothing- nothing but cry-" his dark eyes light up with tears again, his soft voice breaking, "just like last time..."

The sound of Alfur sobbing was enough to shatter Hilda's heart. She would have told him not to cry, but she remembered how he allowed her to cry. That emotions were meant to be released, not bottled up. So she hugged him, being the one to comfort him this time rather than him comforting her. He might've needed it.

"Last time...?" Hilda inquires quietly.

Alfur sighs. He wipes his eyes before closing them, now more deep in thought. His voice still quivered when he spoke.

"My mother... was a lot like you. Well, maybe not quite so reckless. She taught me how to summon water spirits and taught me about enchantments and their effects, all kinds of things. She was eccentric and bizarre, but that's what made her so wonderful, you know?"

Hilda nods.

"I was about seven, maybe eight, when she died, so this was long before you were born and a few years before your mother moved in. We had gotten news from the prime minister's home in the fjord that she had gone to the waterfall and a nokken had pulled her underwater before they could do anything."

"Oh..." Hilda breathes in quietly, "I'm sorry..."

"No, no... I was the youngest, so I suppose my father grieved by being hard on me the most. So I would stay with my cousins most of the time. My mother loved meeting humans, but other elves dared not make contact, so we simply watched your mother in silence when she came because I was too frightened back then to cross them. Sometimes we would take little things from the cabin, like tissues or sugarcubes. Nothing she couldn't get more of. I had just turned eighteen by the time you were born, and we were all intrigued by you. It... might have been the blue hair, but... when the new prime minister turned everyone else against you, I knew I couldn't stand by and watch it happen. I did what my mother would have done, because it was the right thing."