Mean Eyes

Osric leans against the well. Flipping through his magic book, he occasionally glances up at Elayne and John's brawl.

Elayne swings with an overhead strike. John's sword barely rises in time to block it. Then comes a backhanded slash from her left, the sword moving so fast Osric can hardly keep his eyes on it. The wood connects, sinking into John's stomach.

"Ow!" John squeals, dropping to his knees, clutching his side.

Elayne steps forward, bonking him on the head.

"Ah! Stop!" John waves his arms over his head.

Elayne lifts her sword again.

"Stop! He's dead. You've won, Elayne." Randolf grabs her sword just as it thwips into motion.

"I don't want to play with you anymore. You're no fun!" John scrambles to the door.

Good riddance. Osric sticks his tongue out at the door.

"John!" Randolf chases after him.

"You're getting really good at this, huh?" Osric slaps his book shut.

"Of course I am!" Elayne triumphantly crosses her arms.

"If only you were this good at reading." Osric stands.

>>>

Later that night, Osric sits at the desk in his old room. One of the History books Angus gave him sitting on the desk.

"Now look at this word." He points to the page.

"Elayne?" He looks to his right. The chair is empty.

He checks behind. Elayne's lying on the bed, eyes closed.

"Oh, we're not doing this again." Osric gets up.

Kneeling beside the small bed, he pokes her cheek. She doesn't even stir. His finger stretches out to poke her again, but before he can, her head rolls over, jaw open. She snaps it shut on his finger.

"Ah!" He yanks his finger out of her mouth. "What the hell!"

Elayne springs off the bed and heads for the door.

"What — you’re gonna bite me and then leave? Come sit down!"

"I said I don't wanna learn to read!"

"You really should learn. It'll come in handy, trust me."

"No," she says, raising her hand to the door handle.

"What's wrong with you?" Osric yells in frustration. "You never listen to anything I say. Anytime I get near you, you hit me... I could force you to listen, you know. If I order it, you'll have to sit here and read this book."

She whips around. "Don't you dare! I'm tired of this thing!" She yanks at the collar around her neck.

"Then just come over here and talk to me." He pats the wooden chair beside him.

Elayne plops down on the bed instead.

Osric shakes his head. "What is your problem, really?"

"I don't like humans. I'm not gonna listen to a human."

"Yeah, that doesn't make sense. You listen to Catalina."

Elayne drops her head and stares down at the white sheets between her legs. "I like her. She's nice, like my mama."

"But you don't like me?"

“No! You’re clumsy. You can’t even use a sword!”

She grips at the sheets, balling them in her fists. “And… and sometimes your eyes get all mean. Like the bad guys who hurt my mom.”

"What? When do I ever look like that?"

"Whenever you go, ‘Hahaha!’" She deepens her voice clumsily. "And you say things about the Sage. Or whatever."

"Well, I am the new Grand Sage. Why wouldn't I announce it?" He puffs out his chest, pressing a hand to it.

Her eyes flick up at him. "I don't like it. And I don't care about this Sage guy."

She springs up and storms toward the door. With an echoing slam, she's gone.

A nasty look in my eye, huh? He slumps back in his chair. Why would she compare me to the thugs that kidnapped her?

He’s left in the room alone, head against the back of the chair, gazing up at the wooden-beamed ceiling, lost in thought...

>>>

Osric bumbles down the stairs in the pitch black.

I definitely need to figure out indoor plumbing. Going outside in the middle of the night to pee is not for me, he thinks, running his hand along the back wall of the house, searching for the door handle.

He finds it, opens the door, and steps out. He shivers as his feet sink into the cold, damp grass. He glances left, making sure the outhouse is still there, tucked against the house.

He reaches the door, but something flashes in the corner of his eye. He spins around

For a moment, he sees what looks like an elf: a man with bright blonde hair shimmering in the moonlight, long pointed ears, and a green cloak.

Before Osric can confirm it, he blinks — and the man is gone. He rubs his eyes and squints out into the grassy field beyond the fence, straining his neck to catch another glimpse.

Did I really see that? he wonders, rubbing his eyes again. Am I losing it?

>>>

The next morning, Osric stumbles down the stairs.

"Hey Mother, where's Father?" he asks.

"He's already gone to help the villagers with the new wheat field," Catalina explains, cracking two eggs into an iron pan.

Osric settles into a chair, watching her set the pan over the fireplace on a metal rack.

"He's gone already?"

"Yes, dear. It's custom to wake up with the sun around here. You're the only one who doesn’t."

Ouch. She could’ve said that nicer. I can’t help it — it’s my gamer genes, he thinks, watching her slide fried eggs onto a wooden plate and set it before him.

"Mother, have you ever heard of an elf?" he asks, cutting into the eggs.

"A what?" She turns to him with a raised eyebrow.

That’s what I thought. The history books never say anything about elves. I really might be going crazy. He gulps down a mouthful of egg.