My giddiness did not last long. Something started to bother me just a short time later as I walked beside Myth. And I could not stop fretting over it. Myth had sounded so frustrated when she had said, “What is it with you humans? Why are you so determined to follow an elf around?” Did she resent me for following her back in Narrows? Myth had made it clear that she did not want my company. And I had disregarded her feelings because I wanted to travel with her. Did that still upset her?
I fretted and fretted until I became so distraught that I decided to talk to Myth about it.
But I did not want our new traveling companions to hear this conversation. Barnaby seemed like a decent fellow, but Bard—blech!
“Myth,” I said, touching her arm, “can we talk in private?”
“Sure, Izzy,” replied Myth. She halted and told Bard, “We’ll catch you up.”
I stopped walking and stood next to Myth, waiting for Bard and Barnaby to travel out of earshot. I was so worried about the upcoming conversation that I could not bear to look at Myth. I stared at my feet, instead.
Once Bard and Barnaby were quite a ways ahead of us, Myth and I started to follow them, matching their pace.
“Okay,” said Myth. “It looks like something is bothering you, Izzy. So talk to me.”
I took a deep breath, still staring at my feet. “Well. You seemed upset when Bard insisted on coming with us. And you complained about how humans were always following you. I was wondering if… Well, if you resent me for following you back in Narrows. Maybe you’d be happier if you were on your own.”
Myth put her arm across my shoulders. “I don’t resent you, Iz. I promise. And I enjoy your company.”
I looked at Myth, a big smile on my face. Oh, Buster, hearing Myth say that made me so happy.
“But,” said Myth as she removed her arm from my shoulders, “it took me a couple days to warm up to you. Having you follow me around made me really uncomfortable at first.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, my head drooping. “I should have considered your feelings instead of being so selfish.”
“Thanks for saying that, Iz,” said Myth. “But please, don’t dwell on it. I’m glad you followed me—now that I’ve gotten to know you. But back then, you were just some weird human who wouldn’t leave me alone. I thought you were an Elfie.”
“What’s an Elfie?”
“Oh, Elfies are humans who suffer from a very special and annoying form of insanity,” said Myth. “Put simply, an Elfie is a human who wants to be an elf. Elfies immerse themselves in elven culture, trying to imitate every facet of our lives—except for the crippling poverty. I’ve even seen Elfies wearing homemade, parchment elf ears.”
“Really,” I said, “homemade elf ears?”
Myth put her hand over her heart. “It’s true.”
I slapped her arm playfully. “And you thought I was an Elfie?”
Myth wiggled my left earlobe. “I was just waiting for you to put on a pair of homemade elf ears. And when you did, I was ready to run away as fast as I could.”
Covering my face with my hands, I muttered, “How embarrassing.”
“But you didn’t look like a typical Elfie,” said Myth. “And that confused me. Elfies tend to be grossly overweight men with acne-riddled faces. A female Elfie didn’t make sense. I wondered if Elfies were breeding, passing their Elfie predisposition onto their daughters. But I dismissed that idea—no woman would take an Elfie as her mate.”
“Myth!” I shouted, punching her arm gently. “Don’t say such mean things.”
“You’ve never met an Elfie,” said Myth. “I have. Every so often, an Elfie would visit the Elvenhome back in Dawn. Trust me—they’re not a charismatic bunch.
“I remember this one Elfie in particular,” Myth went on with a chuckle. “Impossibly rotund—he looked like a ball with limbs and a head. Impressive set of elf ears, too—spent a month making them in his mum’s cellar, he claimed.
“Well, this Elfie waddled around the Elvenhome, watching us. Sometimes an elf would do or say something that the Elfie didn’t approve of. So he’d waddle over to that elf and say, ‘You’re doing it wrong.’ Then he’d tell the elf how to behave like a real elf. Yes, an Elfie was instructing us elves how to act like elves.”
Myth was laughing so hard that she had to pause. Once she had composed herself, Myth continued, “Oh, that Elfie was a pain in the bum. He even had the gall to tell Elder Gareth, ‘You’re doing it wrong.’ Gareth was watching over me and some other children in the Faerie Square at the time. I’m not sure what Gareth was doing wrong—if he wasn’t a real elf, then none of us were. Anyway, Gareth humored the Elfie, listening to him as he told Gareth how to behave like a proper Elder.
“But I was furious—no one told Gareth that he was a bad Elder in front of me. So I asked my friend Olwen to help me get revenge. We stalked that Elfie. And when he finally turned onto a deserted street, we slopped him—and slopped him good. While we were slopping him, the Elfie kept saying, ‘You’re doing it wrong. You used too much manure.’ ”
I was giggling like mad, but I managed to sputter, “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Funny thing is,” said Myth, “that Elfie had a point: we were using too much manure. Actually, we were just chucking clumps of horse poo at him.”
Stepping in front of Myth, I grabbed hold of her hands, causing her to halt. “How could you have thought I was an Elfie?”
Myth shrugged. “Why else would you have been following me around?”
We started to walk again, side by side.
“But you never donned a pair of homemade elf ears,” Myth went on. “So I started to relax. And then I began to enjoy having you around. The way you prattled on and on reminded me of a puppy that’s yipping excitedly because it’s being taken for a walk.”
Myth put her arm across my shoulders again. Looking at me, she said, “In hindsight, having you follow me was one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”