out next to the lake.”
“Are you after suggesting that we took this pitcher from your summer camp?” Keva demanded.
“Now, Keva,” Holl chided her, but the old lady ignored him. The other diners fell silent, listening.
Keith regarded her with puzzlement, his narrative dying away to silence. “No, not at all. That’s up near Chicago. They’re mass produced. There must be thousands of them around the state. It just reminded me of camp. Sort of homey. I’m sorry if you thought I meant anything by it.”
Keva nodded warily. “Well, all right then.”
“If camp was something you enjoyed,” Holl interjected, shushing Keva. “Otherwise, perhaps we should apologize to you for reminding you.”
“I didn’t mind camp,” Keith acknowledged cheerfully. “I think my parents only lived for the day when they could send all five of us to camp at once.”
There was another susurrus of whispers around the room again. From Keith, there was no sign that he could understand or even hear any of it, but Holl’s attenuated hearing translated them clearly. “Does he accuse us of stealing?” Hmmph, you old frauds, thought Holl, grinning to himself. And where did you think our things come from these long years? Do hens lay plates? Or curtains?
O O O
Keith looked around at the tables of elves, most of whom were glancing at him openly or covertly while they ate. He guessed there must be eighty or ninety of them. The little old lady had gone back to her own meal, pointedly turning her back to him as best she could in the limited space available. Keith made a mental note to apologize to her later. He sent a questioning glance to Holl, and received an amused gesture to go on eating and ignore the old lady. He figured that she must be the local equivalent of his great-aunt Martha, a woman who enjoyed bullying her relatives into believing that they had really offended her so she could demand apologies for the imaginary insults. He took another sip of milk and turned his attention to his surroundings.
The planked wooden tables were dark brown and polished smooth on top, but carved prettily around the sides. A few of the chairs at the ends were made to match, as were the benches, but a number of chairs were obvious refugees from a kindergarten. Keith had noticed one, occupied by an extremely dignified elf with black hair and silver temples, that had the alphabet and a teddy bear painted on the chair back. The dishes were mostly ceramic, hand thrown with a great deal of skill. Blue, green and yellow were their favorite colors; the elves made their clothes in the same hues they painted their dishes.
At each long table sat a few elderly elves, others that he would term “middle-aged,” and an assortment of younger ones that he guessed were up to twenty years old in Big People terms. By the common resemblances, each group represented one extended family. It was touching to see that little silvering-blond grandmother feed the tiny infant on her left to give the tired brunette on the child’s other side a rest and a chance to feed herself. There weren’t too many babies in the room. Each table had two or three, rarely more. The one behind Holl had four toddlers, all of which looked exactly alike, and each of whose little bottoms could comfortably fit on the palm of Keith’s hand. His classmates were scattered among the clans, as he called them to himself, so they probably weren’t all sisters and brothers.
The Elf Master occupied the head of a table to Keith’s left. Next to him sat Enoch, the young elf with black hair. Enoch had met Keith’s glance on his way in, and apart from that one glance, ignored him. Keith decided not to think about him, and just smiled at anyone else whose eyes he met. On Enoch’s other side was the pretty, auburn haired elf girl whose name was Maura. She smiled sweetly back when he grinned at her, and looked down again at her plate.
The food was good, what there was of it. The servers, elves of both
“Are you after suggesting that we took this pitcher from your summer camp?” Keva demanded.
“Now, Keva,” Holl chided her, but the old lady ignored him. The other diners fell silent, listening.
Keith regarded her with puzzlement, his narrative dying away to silence. “No, not at all. That’s up near Chicago. They’re mass produced. There must be thousands of them around the state. It just reminded me of camp. Sort of homey. I’m sorry if you thought I meant anything by it.”
Keva nodded warily. “Well, all right then.”
“If camp was something you enjoyed,” Holl interjected, shushing Keva. “Otherwise, perhaps we should apologize to you for reminding you.”
“I didn’t mind camp,” Keith acknowledged cheerfully. “I think my parents only lived for the day when they could send all five of us to camp at once.”
There was another susurrus of whispers around the room again. From Keith, there was no sign that he could understand or even hear any of it, but Holl’s attenuated hearing translated them clearly. “Does he accuse us of stealing?” Hmmph, you old frauds, thought Holl, grinning to himself. And where did you think our things come from these long years? Do hens lay plates? Or curtains?
O O O
Keith looked around at the tables of elves, most of whom were glancing at him openly or covertly while they ate. He guessed there must be eighty or ninety of them. The little old lady had gone back to her own meal, pointedly turning her back to him as best she could in the limited space available. Keith made a mental note to apologize to her later. He sent a questioning glance to Holl, and received an amused gesture to go on eating and ignore the old lady. He figured that she must be the local equivalent of his great-aunt Martha, a woman who enjoyed bullying her relatives into believing that they had really offended her so she could demand apologies for the imaginary insults. He took another sip of milk and turned his attention to his surroundings.
The planked wooden tables were dark brown and polished smooth on top, but carved prettily around the sides. A few of the chairs at the ends were made to match, as were the benches, but a number of chairs were obvious refugees from a kindergarten. Keith had noticed one, occupied by an extremely dignified elf with black hair and silver temples, that had the alphabet and a teddy bear painted on the chair back. The dishes were mostly ceramic, hand thrown with a great deal of skill. Blue, green and yellow were their favorite colors; the elves made their clothes in the same hues they painted their dishes.
At each long table sat a few elderly elves, others that he would term “middle-aged,” and an assortment of younger ones that he guessed were up to twenty years old in Big People terms. By the common resemblances, each group represented one extended family. It was touching to see that little silvering-blond grandmother feed the tiny infant on her left to give the tired brunette on the child’s other side a rest and a chance to feed herself. There weren’t too many babies in the room. Each table had two or three, rarely more. The one behind Holl had four toddlers, all of which looked exactly alike, and each of whose little bottoms could comfortably fit on the palm of Keith’s hand. His classmates were scattered among the clans, as he called them to himself, so they probably weren’t all sisters and brothers.
The Elf Master occupied the head of a table to Keith’s left. Next to him sat Enoch, the young elf with black hair. Enoch had met Keith’s glance on his way in, and apart from that one glance, ignored him. Keith decided not to think about him, and just smiled at anyone else whose eyes he met. On Enoch’s other side was the pretty, auburn haired elf girl whose name was Maura. She smiled sweetly back when he grinned at her, and looked down again at her plate.
The food was good, what there was of it. The servers, elves of both
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