Home Elfcare

He was first and foremost a liar. Barnaby had always been a liar, and other children had always accused him of such. When he had been a child. Now he was an adult, and adults needed jobs if they wanted to live outside of their overbearing fathers' houses.

Barnaby was already one hundred and nineteen years old, and he had no business, frankly, leeching off anyone. Let alone his well-to-do father. Elves had a very specific and well-laid-out familial structure. The parents and community raise their children to adulthood. He would often receive comments that he looked nothing like his fair-haired and lithe parents. He was fat, for an elf, and surprisingly dark-haired. He had an annoying little button nose. What the community didn’t know was that his father lightened his hair and used magic to shape his body. Like father, like son. Or it would be if Barnaby could do much more than make sparks.

After the children are adults, they branch out and become part of the community, which was made far more difficult after the most recent king’s laws. Not as many people were being hired despite the job openings. Barnaby was considered a failure by many because he had yet to integrate as a meaningful part of Greenfellow Haven.

So at his father’s insistence, he had applied for every available job, even those that were above his experience level. Barnaby had lied on his experience sheet. Over and over again, he did this, hoping that he could get a job and prove that he wasn’t a useless layabout.

So he lied. When the interviewer asked if he knew magic, and he didn’t need to know much. Simple levitation. Simple teleportation to locations he’d been. Cleaning magic was optional. Barnaby smiled and said, “Of course! Who graduates Greenfellow School for Mages without knowing those simple spells?” No one did, actually. People who’d actually gone to Greenfellow School for Mages knew that and much more. They may actually have a concentration in magic, specializing in much more than simple tricks.

Barnaby might have expected the next question if he had been a smarter elf. The interviewer grinned and nearly shouted, “ That’s great! I went there too! What was your concentration?”

He froze. He knew about specialties in magic, but he didn’t know what would be most believable. He was only familiar in one school of magic, after a phase in his early one hundred and teens. After an uncomfortable silence, he said, with no amount of confidence, “Necromancy.”

Stupid. This is a home health care position.

“Oh. Well, that explains your resume gap. Never mind, a lot of healing spells are actually considered Necromancy, and that will be good for the job! Welcome to Home Elf Care!”

Barnaby’s first client was a human woman. She lived in the forest on the edge of the city and was considered a fall risk and flighty. Or had the interviewer said fighty? Barnaby was ready for her. He needed this job more than anything.

~

Barnaby did not have adequate shoes for the job, but was not going to ask his parents for anything. Not after the talk they’d given him. He was supposed to be an independent elf. He was responsible for himself, and no one was ever going to help him. Mud leaked through his shoes, and he winced. Not even the community would help him now. It was the new way of thinking that the king was trying to spread through elven communities. Barnaby assumed he was threatened by entire communities working together. Kings had been decapitated by less. Barnaby understood it. It was not his place to interfere. He was just a good-for-nothing elf who didn’t know magic.

The path to his client’s house got really dark in some areas. It would be really convenient to know light spells. He saw the house, hidden by overgrowth. It was a large cottage. Much too large for one woman.

Barnaby knocked on the door. No answer. He waited for a few minutes. No worries. I’m still getting paid. He opened the door with a loud creak, and he almost missed the large object flying by his head.

His head spun to see an axe that had to weigh as much as a seven-year-old human child splintering into a tree. Warm poured down his leg in rivulets. Barnaby shook in place and looked to a short but muscular woman wearing a nightgown.

She laughed. “Ha! That’ll show you to just open a woman’s door without knocking!”

“I-I did knock”

“Oh yeah? I’m just impressed you’re still standing. The last HEC guy fainted, and I had to carry him back.” She held out a hand and Barnaby shook it, still shaking. “So, as you can see, I don’t need Home Health Care, and you can tell them I don’t care how much they’re paying them, maybe you can send you guys to people who actually need them!”

Barnaby moved, hating the squishing in his shoes, “I need this job.”

“Oh please, they’re not going to fire you if you go back and tell them—”

Barnaby sloshed forward and exclaimed, “I need this job. I just got a new apartment, and I need to pay for it, and no one is helping me, and I can’t lose this job. Please. I will do anything. I can sort buttons! It’s my first day, I can’t go back and tell them I failed.”

“You’re an elf, right? From The Community? Won’t they help you?”

Barnaby clenched his fists. “After King Thibault was crowned, he started trying to divide our communities, and I know that humans are supposed to die in our lifetimes, but he’s taking a really long time.”

“Why not do something about it? He’s just a human. Oh, I hate that man!”

The woman ranted for a very long time while she walked back and forth to a pile of stuff. Her rant was all things Barnaby had thought before and all things that could get them both killed if someone close to the king heard. I guess you don’t care when you’re this close to death. She was a human woman in her sixties as far as Barnaby could tell. She had grey hair that had streaks of copper in it.

She returned with pair of purple pants and shoes that glimmered. “The pants shape to your body, you can keep them. The shoes will move you two leagues away if you click the heel. I have a spout outside if you want to clean up. Come back and we’ll talk.”

Barnaby sloshed outside and undressed. He cleaned himself in the spout and pulled on his new pants. They were plum purple and very soft. The new shoes were sparkly and felt textured. Barnaby inspected closer and saw very tiny stones. He didn’t deserve these. He was going to have to pay the woman back.

He went back inside, his head held high. “I will give these back when I have new pants and shoes. I’m sorry I=”

“Don’t be a big baby. I scared the piss out of you. Take it as a starting bonus. Don’t say another word about it or you’ll convince me to tell them I don’t need you, okay?” The woman pulled out a mop bucket and a mop. “You can start by mopping up your mess. I don’t know if you use magic to clean. My party had a wizard, and he thought it was beneath him to clean with his hands. But there’s a kind of honor to it, right?”

“I clean with my hands.”

The woman nodded and sat on her couch, sighing. “Sorry, I stood for too long. I’m just a bit winded. I’ll be fine. I’m Morwen, by the way.”

“How did you throw that axe?”

“With my arms? I’m very strong. I was a force to be reckoned with for years. You may know me as the Wildfire!”

The name rang a bell. It would have been about forty years ago when Barnaby was in his eighties. A group of adventurers was making a name for themselves up the coast, and he remembered posters up around Greenfellow Haven. He took in Morwen, the remnants of her copper hair. It seemed a bit unfair that humans aged so quickly. Forty years ago, he was still having trouble tying his shoes.

“I think I remember something about your group. It was a while ago, though.”

“We were strong for a long time. It wasn’t actually that long ago they dumped me here. They decided I’d gotten too old to travel with them, and so they bought me this gods forsaken cottage near your work and hired a bunch of do-gooder twinks to take care of me. You’re a breath of fresh air. I didn’t even know elves could be pudgy.”

Barnaby’s breath hitched. “Like I said, I don’t know. Forty years was so long ago.”

Morwen laughed and pointed to her axe, still lodged in the tree outside. “Go get that for me—”

“Barnaby. And I can try. It looks pretty stuck.”

“You’re young! Go get it, and I’ll put some tea on.”

Barnaby was very careful not to click his heels together as he walked to the tree and gripped the axe with both hands. The axe was very well taken care of with a shiny handle. That was something. The rest of the house had the settled dust of someone who hadn’t cleaned for a long time. Barnaby would know. He’d neglected to clean his bedroom back home for months at a time.

He tugged on the axe. He pulled on the axe. Barnaby lovingly whispered seductive words to the axe. It wasn’t moving. “Please?” Morwen chortled. Barnaby had never actually heard someone chortle before, but this woman was chortling like she had some big secret. Before he could confront her, she raised her hand up, and the axe pulled itself out of the tree. She grabbed it, and it immediately dropped to the floor. She pulled it up with great effort with two hands.

“Sorry. I was just messing with you. I wanted to see how long you’d sit there whispering to it. You don’t know magic at all, do you?”

“I know so much magic. It would make your head spin.”

Morwen laughed. “So here’s how I know you’re full of shit: A mage wouldn’t have even bothered pulling on the stupid thing. They would have used magic. You still would have failed, but it would have told me less about you. So, you’re the type of man who’d lie to get a job?”

Barnaby was a liar. A useless, horrible liar. He felt tears spring to life at the corners of his eyes. Useless tears. All they’re for is showing her how weak you are.

“Okay, stop. You don’t need to get worked up. I know you need the job. I’m not going to snitch on you,” Morwen laughed, and the wrinkles around her mouth deepened, “I can work with you. You’ll clean the places I don’t want to clean and maybe…” She sighed. “Keep me company. That’ll work for me. They’ll probably celebrate you at that little office because I never agree to keep you little dorks. But you’re different, I can tell.”

~

The next week, Barnaby rocked back on his heels while he waited for Morwen to answer the door. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He didn’t think that the tree, still splintered down the middle, could take it.

Morwen opened the door, smiling. She wore a light grey tunic and pants. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show.” Barnaby held in his smart-ass response.

“I was worried you were going to throw that axe again.” He tried to hold in his smart-ass response. Ever since he was a child, he’d been called mouthy, and he’d tried to curb the impulse, but it got him into trouble more often than not.

Morwen laughed. “You know. I don’t usually react with reckless violence if I can help it. I’ve never been one to run in, axe swinging. I will if I have to, don’t get me wrong!”

“So what was that? You just threw an axe that weighed as much as a good hunting dog at my head? That doesn’t make you think ‘Oh maybe this is a bit reckless?’”

“Oh, please. I’ve ate and shat out demon spawn that were bigger than you.” Barnaby‘s mouth dropped open. He could scarcely believe that the woman in front of him could eat a steak dinner, let alone a demon spawn by herself. “Here. I’ll make us some tea, and I’ll tell you the story. I didn’t eat the whole demon spawn, mind you—just the biggest chunk. I was the only one in the party with the disposition to do it! I was surrounded by a bunch of loser wizard types!”

Barnaby sat on one of Morwen’s neglected chairs and watched her pull down a clay pot and two clay cups. She put them on her coffee table. Everything had a rough quality, as if made by hand. Barnaby held one tea cup in his hand and it fell to floor.

It exploded into three inglorious pieces. and Morwen chuckled. “Did you drop it?”

“Oh! No!”

“Oh, so it just shattered on its own?” She raised her eyebrow. She picked up the pieces, groaning as she bent to pick them up. “So you’re a clumsy elf on top of it. You really are a rarity. You’re going to be the death of me. I can just tell.” She laughed. She was insulting him but something about Morwen made him feel safe.

Barnaby was a liar. He’d always been a liar. It was something he’d always done to protect himself. At least he was self-aware, he chastised himself. He took in Morwen, who was humming and pouring tea. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie. It’s something I do.”

“You were probably scapegoated a lot in your childhood.”

“What?”

Morwen sat on her other chair, a much more used and beloved chair from the looks of it. “You probably grew up in an environment where you were blamed for other’s failures and it’s a horrible habit you never shook. Very unfortunate, as you’re what, one hundred and tweny?”

“One nineteen.”

“Gods, you’re a baby. Are you even old enough to work for Home Elf Care?”

“I—I lied on my resume.”

Morwen laughed, a barking and uproarious laugh. “If there was ever a place to lie, right?” She gestured for Barnaby to drink some tea but he sat there blinking. When did a third cup appear? “I have more than two cups, breathe. I made it myself out of the mud outside, it’s not like I’m out of a gold coin every time you decide to shatter something. I’m not some rich adventurer I need to manage my money or I’ll eventually run out.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

Morwen shrugged. “The king sees an old adventurer living by herself in the woods near an elven city, he thinks he can bleed me dry. I’ll show him. Besides, Ardan is the one paying you, technically. He’s a wizard so he’s still adventuring. He doesn’t need to do much physically so his physical decline isn’t really noticed.”

“Ardan?”

Morwen chuckled and put down her tea. She twirled her hair in her finger. “Oh, he’s a good for nothing wizard. He sucks.” Barnaby was absolutely sure he did. She took a drink, humming. “He’s always had a thing for me, I can’t prove it, but a woman knows. Unfortunately, he also had a reputation of being possessive and I wasn’t interested in being possessed. I was Wildfire.”

She was no bard, assuredly, but he was enthralled and unmovable by her story. Morwen made him snacks and continued to tell him about her party.

“There was Evangeline, the spirit talker. She could control vines and entangle any enemy. Under the right circumstances, she could even reason with the spirits inside of trees. “Sometimes she would pick fights with the wind, and I would swear it listened.”

There was a templar, a rogue, and a warrior. Barnaby listened quietly as Morwen talked about her friends. She didn’t hate them; she was just upset with them for abandoning her. “They’re going to realize their mistake and come back for me any day now.” She breathed heavily again, and Barnaby frowned. They weren’t coming back for her. Especially if she got winded by telling stories.

“Then there’s Ardan. That damned man has always had a thing for me. I can’t prove it, but one year, he got us matching phylacteries. As if I would,” She took in a long, deep breath, “Ever want to be a lich. All those years of adventuring, I can only imagine what living forever is like. No, thank you.”

There was something romantic about the offer of being a lich with the man you love. Barnaby hoped to have that someday. The love thing. Not so much the lich thing. His goals were as follows: Be useful to someone, be totally independent without the need to depend on anyone, be employable for real, and maybe find love. He had his dreams set on someday.

“You know. Maybe being a lich wouldn’t be so bad.”

Morwen laughed and poured another cup of tea. She had a beautiful tea set that was locked up behind glass, while they used the clay set. Morwen’s eyebrows furrowed, and she muttered, “If you’re trying to court a girl, just come out and say it. Showy declarations of love can get muddy.”

“I like men.”

She laughed and took a deep sip of tea. “Works in any direction. I’ve gone in several myself.” Barnaby blinked and chuckled.

He put down his cup and gathered the dishes. Morwen whistled. “A man who does dishes and cleans? You’re going to make some man very happy someday.”

“I’m a fat elf who doesn’t know how to do magic. You don’t need to make me feel better.”

“Listen.” Morwen handed Barnaby a rag. “Looks don’t matter as much as you think they do. If someone had told me that at nineteen, I’d be the queen and I would have killed that bastard on the throne.”

“Morwen!” Barnaby shouted, “You can’t just say things like that! The king might be listening!”

She laughed and sat back down in her chair. “Let that piece of shit listen. I hope he feels bad, that balding loser needs to be knocked down a peg.”

“He’s balding?”

“Not that going bald is a bad thing. It probably wasn’t a nice thing to body shame him. He’s been balding since we were in our 20s. He had a thing for me, too, but he was smarmy and gross, and he underpaid us. If I knew then what I know now, I would have just killed him with my axe, but Evangeline insisted, ‘No!’ That’s a person! You can’t just kill a person, no matter how evil’ I say sometimes it is a necessary evil!”

Barnaby thought on the words and nodded. “I’ve never killed anyone but I guess people just have to die sometimes, right? Like no one lives forever either way. E-even elves die eventually.”

“You guys are like lobsters! No one really knows how long you guys will live. Isn’t the oldest elf like nine thousand?” Barnaby nodded. He didn’t want to live to be nine thousand. That seemed entirely too old. He reached toward the broom and dragged it across the dusty floor, cleaning. He extended his magic feeling to the cottage to find out more about the magic user who built it.

The whole cottage had been built using no magic. He wondered out loud, “Who built this cottage?”

“Ardan.” Barnaby blinked and tried harder to find the magic. Morwen laughed. “He made himself strong. I watched him because, no! I didn’t trust him to do it by himself. I thought he was going to get hurt.” She chuckled and rubbed her forehead. “And at the end of it, out of breath and out of magic, because he’s also an old man, he tells me, ‘Morwen, I can build you a second floor. Just say the word.’ Foolish man. I told him I just needed a bed and a place to wash up.” She looked fondly at a pillar and smiled a secret smile.

“You like him.” Barnaby couldn’t stop himself from grinning. And Morwen snorted. She sat cross-legged on her chair and leaned forward.

“He’s a foolish wizard.”

Barnaby nearly shouted, “Why didn’t you tell him?”

Morwen crossed her arms. “If he wanted to know so badly, he could have talked to me like a man instead of making suggestive comments.” She smirked. “Of course, I’m fond of him. I’ve always been fond. It’s just not wise to date other party members.”

“You’re not party members anymore! You could—”

“He left me here! Same as the rest of the party.” She crossed her arms and looked away. “Just make sure you’re careful when you clean under my hoard.”

After a while, Morwen sighed. “I thought you elves were supposed to be haughty and full of yourselves. Why do you act so small?”

Barnaby hadn’t really thought about it. The other elves acted full of themselves. But they had reason to. They knew magic. Barnaby was a good-for-nothing—

“Okay, whatever you’re thinking you need to stop, right now. Say something nice, or don’t say it at all. Unless it’s about the Spirit Talker in your party.”