Chapter Nine
I ’m a fucking mess.
Aunt Olive is a fucking mess.
The poor confused healer who keeps coming by thinking something may have miraculously changed... is a fucking mess.
You know that moment when something happens, that’s not supposed to happen, at least not to you, or even at this young of an age and everyone is talking about how it’s ‘all new territory’ for them?
Yeah, it’s all new for me too.
Except I am so heavily torn between my fear... and this overwhelming burst of joy.
The fear stems from my lack of experience. While Aunt Olive has been a wonderful stand-in, I’ve had no actual mother of my own to emulate. So I don’t have anything to pull do’s and don’ts from. I have no clue what kind of mother I want to be.
I’m also young. I know I said I didn’t feel young, but in the magickal community, I’m not even supposed to be fertile yet. And among the fae? Some females don’t even start reproducing until they surpass their first century.
That doesn’t even touch on my concerns about the baby. You know, the baby I shouldn’t be capable of reproducing. No halfling has ever been fertile. That’s why they are rare. No one wants to doom a being to a life of infertility. It’s almost guaranteed. So how is this possible, and will my baby be ok? Maybe this is another case of the Gods intervening. If that is the case, then surely the baby would be ok. Right?
Mix all those fears in with the usual can I actually be a mom? and will Orobas even want a baby? and I’m a complete fucking mess.
So I am crying. Again. Nonstop with the crying.
Which is more than likely the cause of the poor healer being a fucking mess. She wants to help but doesn’t know how. She wants to give Aunt Olive answers but she doesn’t have them.
Because I am a fucking weirdo.
Oh, wait. Excuse me. They used the term ‘anomaly.’ I suppose the intent there was to make me feel better, but it definitely did not work. I’d rather be weird. What the fuck is an ‘anomaly’ anyway?
Do you know what doesn’t help at all?
Being pregnant and away from your mate.
I was alright on Tuesday. Though, to be fair, I spent most of it sleeping.
Yesterday I was dealing with massive amounts of shock. Which may or may not have resulted in a few accidents with my magicks. Flooding the bathroom was not what I intended when I had said I was going to try and take a relaxing bath though. Thankfully, the panic of flooding the house then resulted in somehow lifting a section of the wall in the bathroom so at least it was all able to just flow outside. Still doesn’t make trying to pee with a random chipmunk in the sink any less terrifying. Their eyes really stare right into your soul. To be honest, I don’t know which of us was more terrified, but there was no way I was going to hold it until the little guy--or girl--made its way back out of the house.
It’s a really good thing that Aunt Olive’s talent lies in home buildings and repairs, so she was pretty calm about all the damage. Not that I feel much better about destroying an entire wall between the kitchen and living room, but she assured me it’s ok because it doesn’t bear any loads or something.
I have no idea what that means.
Or how she plans to lower the wall in the bathroom again.
But I am way too scared of my misfiring magick to even try to undo some of it. Who knows what the fuck would happen. Maybe I would make the exterior walls all invisible or something. Not that Olive would care, but I truly don’t like having my naked body on display.
I am a kitchen witch. I like to bake and cook and eat and feed others. I’m good at it too. Although, right now the thought of food has me clenching my stomach again.
The healer said humans get this condition when pregnant. Witches sure don’t. But me? Well, I am just lucky I guess. So I get to experience this mourning sickness and still have no idea what my body is mourning. Maybe the loss of food?
Or perhaps the loss of tastebuds from the well-meaning teas that Aunt Olive keeps bringing me.
I mean I know that mint is not safe for me while pregnant, but surely she could find something to cover the overwhelming flavor of the heal all and ginger. Even just some lemon balm would be fine. But she is so focused on trying to stop my nausea. She means well. I just have to remind myself that while choking down another bland cup of terrible herbal tea that somehow tastes burnt.
Pretty sure if the nausea doesn’t pass in a few days I may actually die from terrible tea.
Thursday and Friday I was a complete mess. Filled with nothing but worry and concern. Not only had Orobas not returned yet, but Neven hadn’t heard anything from him either.
Now it’s Saturday.
And Neven came with news this morning.
There is a rumor that Orobas went to the reader, who confirmed his mating bond. To another demon in his faction. Not just any demon though. They are all saying that he is mated to his second in command. I can never remember the female’s name, but I know one thing for certain.
She despises me.
From the very first time I ever went to my first trade day and saw Orobas for the first time, the female who assisted him that day was always throwing daggers at me with her eyes. Back then, I had no idea that it was because Orobas was smitten with me. I assumed I had done something to offend her, but since our interactions were always so minimal, I never bothered to put much thought into what that could have been or how to correct it.
Now, I know what her intentions were all along. And maybe him as well...
The rumor even goes on to say that the two of them have been courting for some time now.
My heart keeps screaming that this cannot be true. That the Gods blessed us.
But this rumor has taken hold. And with Orobas still not returned from his trip?
Well, my heart is still young, and young hearts can think foolish things.
“As promised, I have discreetly consulted with others, but I fear this is far outside of the realm of our understanding. Elven pregnancies are much shorter than ours even, so there is a possibility that she will progress faster than witches.” The healer’s words pull me in, but I make a point to keep my distance and pretend to be occupied thoroughly with the book in my hands.
Uhm... the book I was definitely not just holding upside down.
Thankfully the healer doesn’t notice and continues talking in hushed tones to my aunt.
“I fear that there may be talk. The village has never rejected dear Elswyth, but this...pregnancy... Well, it is very difficult to explain something that even we do not understand.”
“Is that so, Joseline? And I assume the faction leader has asked you to speak with us about our residency in this village?”
Wait... what?
Do they want me to leave ?
No.
Panic bubbles up inside of me. I can’t leave. I have to be here when Orobas– if Orobas...
I just can’t leave yet.
“No, Olive. We would never ask you to leave or make you feel unwelcome.”
“And what of my niece? Will she be made to feel unwelcome here?”
The healer doesn’t answer and when I glance from behind my book I see that she has lowered her head and is shuffling her feet. Aunt Olive on the other hand has her arms crossed her chest and looks as though she is about to physically harm the poor woman.
“I see. Then I suppose my niece and I will begin getting things in order for our move. Please let the village elders know that we will see ourselves out by month’s end.”
Olive turns to leave Joseline at the doorway, but the healer clears her throat and draws my aunt’s attention back.
“Beltane is in four days. It is my understanding that before then would be their preference.”
Aunt Olive carefully opens the door and without a word, Joseline steps outside. She turns to say something else, but my wonderful aunt promptly slams the door in her face.
Without a grumble or a single word uttered, Aunt Olive comes to me, scooping me into her arms and wrapping me in a tight hug. We sit like that for a while with her holding me and my sobs shaking from my body.
I would never wish harm on anyone, but I sincerely hope the Gods are watching this.
I hope they see how this village is treating me.
And more than anything, I hope that those terrible fucking rumors are nothing more than that.
Rumors.