Chapter 5 #3
“I’m certain she will find out eventually,” Bernhardt said, looking apologetic at the thought.
“The old Queen’s a sly one. But the woods are vast, and there are any number of dangers, especially if she thinks that perhaps he stumbled into the Dark Forest. Winter is coming on soon, we can’t expect him to survive in the forest alone. ”
“May I offer a suggestion?” Makellos asked timidly, not sure if he should speak out of turn, but every pair of eyes turned expectantly to him, so he continued.
“You obviously need help here in preparation for the cold. Let me stay with you and help you through the winter, and then, come spring, I can continue my travels south over the mountains.”
“I think that’s a marvelous idea!” said Hardwic, giving Makellos a rosy-cheeked smile.
“As do I,” Der said. “All in favor, raise your hand?”
Six hands went up around the table. Grimwald’s stayed firmly crossed under his armpit.
“Well, it’s six to one,” Der said brightly. “It is decided, the prince shall stay with us.”
Whoops and cheers went up from the others, and Dagobert gave Makellos’ wrist another loving press.
“We need to be extra careful though,” Hardwic said suddenly. “We can’t just talk openly about the prince of Falchovari living in our house.”
Grimwald let out a derisive snort that everyone else ignored.
“Perhaps a different name?” Bernhardt suggested. “Call him something else when there is the risk of anyone hearing?”
Several of the men nodded. “So, what do we call him?” Der asked. A soft rustle went through the room, a few mutters and mumbles.
Makellos almost jumped in surprise when a hand next to him went up.
It was Dagobert. The room went oddly silent, everyone looking at the young man in curious anticipation.
Dagobert looked around, his blue eyes wide, his cheeks bright pink.
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he looked adoringly up at Makellos.
He reached his hand over to run his fingers shyly over the crisp white sleeve of Makellos’ shirtsleeves.
“Snow. Snow White,” he said, his voice soft but sweet and clear.
There was a collective intake of breath around the room from the little men, followed by all eyes turning to Makellos in expectation. Makellos smiled, reaching a hand up to stroke over Dagobert’s fingers on his sleeve. “I like it,” he said.
“Well, if his highness likes it, then Snow White it shall be,” Der said with another bright smile, giving Dagobert an affectionate look.
Grimwald snorted softly and mumbled something about “ridiculous name” under his breath, but everyone else ignored him.
Dagobert shifted over toward Makellos, who leaned over as well, thinking that the young man was about to whisper something in his ear.
But instead, he felt the soft brush of lips on his cheek.
Dagobert pulled back quickly after that, his face completely red with embarrassment.
Makellos blinked in surprise, then smiled kindly at Dagobert and placed his other hand over his to give his stubby fingers a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you.” Dagobert flushed, a large, dopey smile on his face as he gazed adoringly at Makellos.
After that, the group broke up into several smaller ones to handle evening chores in the light from the lanterns on the wall and the fire in the hearth, for the outside had grown menacingly dark once more.
Makellos found himself with Hardwic, washing dishes at the pump.
“Is Dagobert usually mute?” Makellos asked softly.
“He didn’t say a word to me when we were here this afternoon. ”
Hardwic chuckled softly. “He can speak. But he rarely does.”
“Why?” Makellos asked.
“Well…” Hardwic looked thoughtful. “We’re not fully sure. He tends to only speak when something is very important to him, and then only a few words, as you saw. He was quite young when the Queen rounded us up, so he has spent most of his life in the mines.”
“How awful,” Makellos said softly.
Hardwick nodded, his mouth set in a surprisingly grim line compared to his normally cheerful demeanor.
“He was the only small person in his family. We never learned what happened to them after he was taken away. Perhaps they still live, or perhaps they were sent into exile or imprisoned. Or…” Hardwic let the last possibility hang in the air between them like a soap bubble.
Makellos shuddered. “My mother is cruel,” he said, lowering his eyes to the soapy water. “I am ashamed to be her son.”
Hardwic gave him a gentle pat on the small of his back, the highest his smaller arms could reach. “We don’t choose our parents,” he said. “But we can choose our families.”
Makellos smiled a bit at the words. It was true. His mother had birthed him, but she was hardly what he considered his ‘family.’ “Did you have a family, Hardwic?”
“I did,” the round man said, his voice dropping a little. “A wife and a little girl. All of us touched by the hand of shortness.”
“What happened to them?”
“They were executed,” Hardwic said, his voice no more than a whisper.
“I’m so sorry.” Makellos felt a lump form in his throat.
Hardwic glanced up at Makellos. “Thank you. They still live in my heart.”
“I don’t understand how you can seem so cheerful after suffering such a loss,” Makellos said.
Hardwic hummed as he looked up and out the window into the darkness beyond.
“As tough as it is, life goes on. I am alive, and I keep their memory alive in me. I know they would not want me to only be sad. I was always quite the cheerful person. The Queen has taken so much from me, but I refuse to let her take that.”
“I admire your strength,” Makellos said, his eyes turned to the little man with a heart too big for his small frame. “I will do my best to not let her take that from me either.”
“I’m certain it is not easy, having her blood in your veins and your closeness to her all of your life. But you seem to be quite a remarkable young man.” Hardwic’s smile dimpled his cheeks. “I am confident you will rise above the bindings placed upon you.”