”There is one other thing… My mother’s face…it wasn’t the face of an Elf… My mother is—or was—human.”

Miriel moans and says, “No! It can’t be true!” Queen Fleur silently gets up and leaves the room. A few minutes later, she returns with a charcoal drawing. She hands it to me and asks, “Is this your Helge?” I look at the drawing and nod uncertainly. I say, “Yes…and no. The face in my memory-flash was fuller; with stronger features. Not so…waif-like. And she did not have pointed ears…”

The Queen smiles and says, “It is as I suspected… Her appearance could have easily been changed through simple charms or wards. I am certain that you, Child, are my niece. One I had no idea I had—one that by law—your mother’s own law—should not exist!”

I shake my head…trying to understand what I had just heard. I ask in a shocked voice, “You are saying that you are my Aunt?” Queen Fleur nods and says, “Yes, Child—I believe so. That means several things. First, you shall not address me as ‘Queen’ anymore—you have more right to that title than I. Although, many will argue that point, based on your Halfling status. Second, you shall call me by my name—or Aunt. You may call me Fleur, if you wish—I would prefer my Elvin name, Lothiriel—it is pronounced, ‘Loth-ear-ee-ell’. Say it.” I force my mouth to pronounce her name several times; after I protest that she is still the Queen in my eyes.

Once she is satisfied that I can properly pronounce her name, she says, “Third, it means that we must accelerate your training and education. This will ultimately come to be known…and you must be prepared. You will start in the morning with learning the language and the proper use of a bow and arrow. It is late—we should retire for the night; tomorrow is going to be a busy day.” Miriel says, “Yes, Mother.” I say, “Yes, Qu…” I blush and say, “Yes, Aunt Lothiriel.”

I stand in front of my wardrobe—perplexed. It seems to have decided that I am a girl now. It had only provided me with nightgowns last night—I finally gave up and put one on because I was tired. This morning it is only providing me with girl’s clothing. This is a problem for me—the Qu… My Aunt and Miriel are the only ones, well…besides the Black Witch, that know that…internally…I am a girl. If I dress as one…I will be doubly ostracized and laughed at by the Elves in the realm. First, because I am a Halfling—and second, because they will think I am…a crazy Halfling…

I sigh; I can’t seem to convince the wardrobe any different. I put on the least girly things I can find in the selection, which isn’t saying much, and go down to the dining hall for breakfast. It is strange, though, the clothes feel right… I just know that I am going to be accepted even less in them. I enter the hall and Aunt Lothiriel and Miriel are already there. As usual, they have beat me to breakfast. They both smile when they see me and Miriel says, “You look nice, Brooke. I see you have decided to embrace your inner girl.” I sigh and say, “The wardrobe made that choice for me. I am afraid it will cause people to shun me even more, though.”

Aunt Lothireal says, “Not around here, they won’t. I have made it very clear that it will not be tolerated. You let me know if anyone treats you with disrespect.” I can only think about how that will just make it that much worse, but keep my mouth shut—and my thoughts closely to myself…

After breakfast, I am introduced to Istuion. He tells me it is pronounced, ‘Is-too-ee-on’ and would be ‘Clark’ in English—which means ‘Learned’. Istuion—I practice his name a few times—is to be my tutor. Starting with High Elvish—the main language of the Elves; later history and other subjects will be added. I spend the next several hours learning to read, write and speak Elvish.

After lunch, Miriel takes me back to the weapons grounds and I practice with a bow and arrow. I surprise even myself at what I can hit—and from what positions or distances. Miriel keeps pushing my limits, though. At the end of the session, I am dizzy and weak—as if I had expended large amounts of physical energy; which I hadn’t. It puzzles me. Miriel says, “You seem to be somehow tapping into the magic that you possess as a woman. But, because you are having to reach through the small crack in your ward, it is both limiting your ability and causing you to expend a lot of energy.”

I give her an exasperated look and say, “That is limited ability? I thought I was doing well!” Miriel giggles and says, “Well, for a Halfling boy, you are…pretty decent.” I playfully shove her and we go to the dining hall, where I am happy to find a platter of beancakes waiting for me.

The next several weeks are basic repeats—daily Elvish lessons followed by archery. While I am getting much better at the language, my archery skills seem to have come to a standstill. I am really good—but not as good as Miriel thinks I should be able to be. And I am always really tired after the sessions.

I also have not made any leeway in changing the wardrobe’s insistence in only providing me with girl’s clothing. I finally give up—but, when Miriel or my Aunt are not around, I still catch a lot of nasty glares from the other Elves around the ‘town’. I know I am neither welcomed, nor accepted by them. They still do not know my suspected heritage, though.

Several search parties return over the weeks, as well. They are still searching for Ainathiel, my suspected mother—and true Queen of the Sylvan Elves. So far, there has been no sign of her. At random times, I will catch mental glimpses of her blonde hair or a quick vision of her hugging or kissing me. Try as I might, I cannot break the veil of amnesia, though…and I have not caught any glimpse of my father at all.

And so, my first three months in the Elven Realm pass…

I stand moping in front of the wardrobe. I don’t really know what to put on. I guess it really doesn’t matter…Everyone hates me anyway! I don’t know why, but I am in a really depressed and emotional mood this morning. I hear a voice in my head, ”Wow! That came through loud and clear, Cousin. Why are you broadcasting like that? And…who hates you?”

I blush and Miriel comes into the room, looking as prim and beautiful as ever. She looks at me, concerned, and asks, “Well?” I shrug and say, “When you or Aunt Lothiriel are not with me, everyone scowls at me. They don’t usually say anything to my face—but their feelings are clear. I am not wanted here.” Miriel comes and hugs me. She says, “Brooke, some of that is just longstanding prejudice that we will have to break—and that will take time. People will have to get to know you in order to overlook what they see. Part of that, though, requires that you be more confident in yourself…show them that it is worth getting to know the real you.”

I look at her, not understanding. She smiles and says, “Look at what the wardrobe is presenting you. It is a hodgepodge of girl’s stuff. It is not presenting you with any sort of consistent style that speaks to you because you have not let it know who you are.” I complain, “I keep trying to get it to give me boy’s clothes—but it won’t!” She gives me a look and purses her lips, as she asks, “Is that what you really want?”

I collapse on my bed and feel tears come to my eyes. I wipe them and sniffle, as I say, “Yes…No…I don’t know…” I cry some more and Miriel remains silent. Finally, I wipe my eyes again and say, “It is so confusing. When I see my body…it is a boy’s. When I look inside myself, I know I am a girl—but everyone else sees that boy… How am I supposed to deal with that?” She smiles and says, “By showing everyone that you are a girl. First, you have to convince yourself, be confident of who you are—then the others will follow your lead…eventually. I am not saying it will happen overnight—I am not saying that it will be easy… But, I am saying that I am here for you, Cousin. Mother has not let out who we suspect you are, yet. We want people to accept you for you first. Then they will respect you in your rightful position—once it is revealed.”

I shake my head and say, “I don’t want that—you know that.” She smiles and says, “We rarely want the responsibilities that life throws at us. There is a reason you are here—we just have to figure it out. Now, how about we find your true style and just take the day off? I think you deserve a little fun time.” I jump up and hug her. She giggles and we go to the wardrobe.

She helps me pick out a dress—I have never worn one, but she is insistent that it will ‘send a message’. She helps me into the underclothes and the dress, then the thigh-high, soft Elven boots that go with the style. She says, “Now, you are still a bit young for full makeup, but a little here and there will never hurt. I started when I was…well when I looked to be about your age…”

While she is putting the makeup on me, I ask, “So, how old are you, Miri? You look about sixteen in human years—I know that means you are much older than that, though.” She smiles and says, “Yes, I would be about the equivalent of sixteen human years from an Elven lifespan perspective. In reality, I am about 300 human years old.” I gasp and she giggles, “Hold still, or I will mess this up!”

I look at myself in the mirror when she is done—and…know that it is…right. I see a cute little Halfling girl looking back at me… There are no signs of the outward boy that my body forces me to deal with. All that shows is the inward girl—and tons of confidence that this is right.

I take a shaky breath and say, “Thank you, Miri. This feels right. I feel better already… That is, until I go outside…” Miriel says, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that today. We are going to go out into town and have some fun! You will be having some cute boy Elflings eating out of your hand before the day is out, or my name is not Miriel!”

Well, I did not have any Elflings eating out of my hand that day. But I did start coming out of my shell that day. Slowly, my confidence has been growing and I am being…well, tolerated, if not fully accepted yet. Tomorrow marks my sixth month here and Aunt Lothiriel has announced that there is going to be a party at the castle. It happens to be a coincidence that my sixth month mark falls on the Elven Day of Thanks—a big fall festival.

Miri comes in as I am contemplating what to wear for the day. She says in Elvish, “Good morning, Nellethiel.” I am fairly fluent in Elfish now, and Miri has started using the Elvish version of my name. I respond in Elvish, “I am good this morning, Miri. How are you?” She smiles at my use of the language. She goes to the wardrobe, looks in, and says, “You are getting really fluent, Cousin. I am fine. Get dressed—we need to teach you some dances for tomorrow.” I look at her, confused, and ask, “Dances?”

She looks over her shoulder on her way out and says, “Yes, you know…moving to music.” She giggles at me and I roll my eyes as I say, “I know what dancing is. Why do I need to know how to do it?” She says, “Because there is a ball here in the castle tomorrow night…and you have a date…” And she ducks out.

The thing is, I have finally figured out the telepathy thing works. So, I blast her, A DATE? What do you mean, I HAVE A DATE? I hear, ”Get dressed, Nellethiel!” After that, I can’t get any more response from her. I look back in my wardrobe and blink. She had done something…and now there were only ball gowns to choose from… I groan and pick out a peacock blue gown that looks really pretty…

I glare at Miri as I eat my breakfast. Aunt Lothiriel is not around; something about getting things organized for tomorrow. As soon as I am done, Miri takes me to the ballroom. She introduces me to Laermeluion, which I know means, ‘Man with a sweet song’. And indeed he does have a sweet voice. He is also a persistent and competent dance teacher. And, surprisingly, I am a good learner. After I get over the fact that I am dancing with a cute guy and settle into focusing on him, I discover that I have a certain grace and really good balance. When we are done, after several hard hours, he says, “Lady Nellethiel, I would be honored to continue teaching you to dance. You have a true talent and unparalleled feminine grace—this is true proof in my mind that you indeed are not the boy some think you to be. I think that others will see that tomorrow, as well, when you dance this gracefully at the ball.” I blush and thank him with the curtsey that he had taught me.

Miri and I eat alone again. I blush the whole meal, since Miri teases me mercilessly about how well I danced with a guy. I go to bed early, partially to get away from Miri’s teasing—and partially because I am just worn out.

I sleep deeply and have vivid dreams of my mother. I plainly see her…and then my father. They are fighting trolls…and I am being carried away on a horse… I wake up, but can’t remember any of what I was dreaming. I stretch, perplexed that my dreams are hidden from me, but refreshed from the sound night’s sleep. Then, I remember what the day is about and hurry to my wardrobe to get dressed for the day’s festivities…