…or, Grandfathered In
There was a box waiting for me back at Pelinor; another care package from my mother.
No haul of silver in socks in in this one. Just one sock stuffed with a bunch of coppers. It had a note that I should save them for laundry. The rest of the box was soup mix and cocoa mix; refills on stuff I couldn’t possibly be out of even if I hadn’t used my meal plan.
There were also pictures of mom’s latest work, a giant wooden headboard. She was carving a huge orgy of fauns and nymphs on it. One half of it was done. Like everything else she carved, it was insanely detailed. It might have been cool to a seventh grader somewhere who’d never seen real porn. Knowing that my mother had crafted each and every bit of it made it creepy.
That was before I noticed the handwriting on the bottom margin.
“Now that you’re not here every night, we broke the old one!”
My mother. Khersis bless her.
I knew she’d been in a sharing mood when she packed it, so I was braced to skim over the letter. It wasn’t too bad. Short and to the point, anyway:
J — Hope you’re still well. I’ll be looking for your a-mail, but in case you forget I want to know more about this boyfriend. Can’t wait until you come home b/c we’ll have so much to talk about now.
Love, Mom.
P.S.: Your Great-Grandfather wants to talk to you.
P.P.S.: I’m sure Grandpa would be willing to help if you’re not sure about anything. I would too but if you’re more comfortable talking about it with a guy Grandpa’s always there.
Okay, the second postscript was horrifying, and the promise of “so much to talk about” left me uneasy. Mom had always been the type to overshare. Was she looking forward to some girl talk?
“I’ll be looking for your a-mail.“ It seemed like she’d written this soon after our last conversation, a week ago. Was she dropping another package in the mail right that moment? I’d have to start selling the food she sent.
I decided to see if I could get my great-grandfather on the mirror. That at least would be a safe conversation. He’d never told me about any conquests or exploits or affairs.
He’d also never talked to me about middling culture. Not enough for me to realize how different it was from the elven culture I knew. I wondered if he could give me some context for what I’d experienced.
Or any warnings about what else might be coming if I stayed mixed up with them.
He might also know about the stag bracelets, too. It would be nice to know if there were any more surprises, and if there was a way to remove it. One that didn’t involve death, dismemberment, or disenchantment. Iason hadn’t been very forthcoming about it at all. A way of removing it would be the last thing he’d volunteer. The only other person I knew who knew anything about stag bracelets was Alli, and I wasn’t about to pump her for information.
I put away the food stuff and then went into the stairwell. I asked the mirror for my great-grandfather. It would be night time across the ocean, but not too late. It was more likely he’d be out than asleep.
His image formed pretty quickly. I hadn’t seen him in person often, but I knew his face. It was mine, only more elven. What would Iason have made of it? My elven twin.
Other people’s families had confused me growing up, at least when I was little. My grandfather looked younger than my parents and my great-grandfather looked younger than he did. His hair was so light that it was almost white, which was something. Other than that, he might have been my age. I’d look older than him in a few years.
“Iamos,” he said. “It has been far too long.”
“Hey,” I said. “Yeah, sorry. I meant to reflect more often.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” he said. “I am not going to run out of time on the world.”
“Yeah,” I said. What else do you say to that?
“It is a bittersweet thing for an elf to love a mortal,” he said. “Especially when children are involved. I was prepared to say goodbye, but I did not consider that I might spend the rest of my life doing it.”
“I’m, uh—I’ve got some decades left,” I said.
“I’m just saying, it was a relief to me to hear that you have taken up with a male,” he said. “If I have to keep outliving descendants indefinitely, I might as well stop.”
“You haven’t outlived any of us yet, old man,” I say.
“Yes, but I plan on doing it,” he said. “No offense. Still, when I consider the matter less selfishly, I find myself somewhat worried. You are involved with an elf?”
“Yeah,” I said. I turned my head to emphasize the earring spread, so like his.
“Your age?”
“A student,” I said.
He pursed his lips.
“If you’re trying to decide whether to tell me that middlings are all orcshit insane, I worked that one out,” I said. “But thanks so much for the heads-up. Really.”
He laughed.
“It is a rather lawless time of life,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s hilarious,” I said.
“Iamos, you have to realize, whatever I could have told you about middlings would have been my own experience. It might not have applied to the ones you know,” he said. “Middling enclaves are fluid bodies. We leave our children to their own devices for eight decades, and during that time they create their own culture, their own identities and rules. It is a way of introducing a little freshness into our stagnant, hidebound society, and of shielding the young against the malaise and ennui of adulthood.”
“Malaise seems to be the least of the problems around here,” I said.
“Each enclave is going to be different,” he said. “What you call insane—I do not know what in particular you mean. I recall a certain amount of reckless exuberance in my middling.”
“I don’t think reckless exuberance begins to cover it,” I said. “Why’d you look worried about me dating a middling elf?”
“I fear heartbreak on your behalf,” he said. “If it were an older an elf, I would be offering him consolation on the eventual loss of you, but you cannot count on keeping the attention of an elf of that age for long.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” I said. “He seems pretty committed.”
“Iamos, I hope you are not as susceptible to empty, pretty words of flattery as all that,” my great-grandfather said. “Boys of that age are conjurors of words. If you long to hear him speak of commitment, he will summon up just what you wish to hear.”
“Oh, he’s not summoning anything,“ I said. “Trust me. He’s more into a long-term commitment than I am.”
“I would not for anything take him at his word on that,” my great-grandfather said. “Even if he spent the rest of his youthful time with you, when he enters into adulthood his priorities are likely to change, and by that point you will be old and the best of your life will be behind you. It will be too late to make a fresh start.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s in it for the long haul.”
“Has he given you some tangible sign? A ring? A torc? Those earrings are very fine but they mean nothing.”
“How about this?” I asked, raising my arm with the stag bracelet.
He stared at it, his eyes wide.
“Does your mother know about that?”
“No,” I said.
“So you’re no longer a student?” he asked.
“Yes, I am,” I said.
He frowned.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s not real, then?”
“It’s real,” I said. “I mean, it works. I don’t know what its provenance is supposed to be, but it, you know, does stuff.”
“I see,” he said.
“I was hoping you could tell me more about it,” I said. “He kind of sprung it on me. I don’t know what to—”
“Obey your rider in all things, Iamos,” he said. “Yield yourself up to him always. It’s not the life I would have expected for you, but it’s a wonderful thing all the same.”
“That’s exactly what I—”
“There is no higher purpose a human can hope to serve, my descendant,” he said. “And you are human, essentially.”
“Can you tell me about the bracelet, though?” I asked.
“That is for your rider to do,” he said. “I should not speak to you any further without his permission. Please convey to him my desire that we should speak. Goodbye, Iamos,” he said, and he waved me away before I could say anything.
Yield yourself up to him always. Not exactly what I’d been looking for. My picture of middling life wasn’t much clearer, either.
