The Quest of the Hudion

Chapter 1 - A Dream

On that fateful spring morning, my life began - well, the part of my life that matters.  Everything started with a dream.  No ordinary dream, of course.  While I slept peacefully in my bed, my imagination carried me away to a place I had never known about, let alone dreamt about.

I woke up to the light of gas lamps on a gloomy Monday morning, my head muddled by deep sleep.  Thick English fog drifted by my window, the sun desperately trying to fight through.  The eerie glow brought back memories of my night of dreams.  I specifically remembered the last dream of the night.  It was a marvelous 

dream, filled with magic.  My unruly imagination had carried me to Aevynon, a magical place far from this world.  The king of this mysterious place shone like gold, with all the warmth of a captured ray of sun.  His name was Trodlof, and he was a hudion - a genetic mixture of fairy, mermaid, and elf, with a dash of sunshine for good measure.  I smiled, remembering the delicious feast King Trodlof had served me, but frowned as my gaze fell upon six bottles of castor oil on my bedside table.  I sat up in bed, and threw back the fine silk sheets.  I slipped on my slippers, and padded towards the door of my room.  The morning chill worked its way through my thin nightgown, and I grabbed a thick woolen wrap as I passed my wardrobe.  I reached to open the door, but stopped at the sound of my governess’s wheezing breathing in the hall.  The jingle of the keys at her waist confirmed my fears, and I leapt back into bed just as she squeezed through the doorway.  I squeezed my eyes shut, and pulled the cover up under my chin to cover my shawl.

“Miss Cassandra, I know you’re awake,” she said, her usual squeaky tone grating on my ears.  As she walked to the window, I opened my eyes, and sighed at the familiar sight of her plain black dress with silver buttons.  “You naughty little girl,” she clucked as she drew the curtains, letting the early morning light sting my eyes.  One of her keys dropped to the floor by the window, but she took no notice.  When she shuffled towards my bed, I shrank underneath the covers.  “Come come, now,” she said, taking a bottle of castor oil and a spoon from the table.  “You know it’s good for you.” She waved the bottle in front of me, and I shied away.

“But Ms. Cackold, I don’t like it!” I whined, scowling at the black bottle.

“Sit up,” she commanded.  I slowly sat up, and my shawl came into sight.  “What’s this?” Ms. Cackold asked, grabbing my shawl.  “Where have you been?” she asked, eyeing me.

“Nowhere,” I said.

“Always trying to avoid your castor oil,” she clucked, knowing that I must have been up before she came in, avoiding the nasty stuff.

Ms. Cackold unscrewed the lid of the black bottle, and I watched in disgust as the thick yellow liquid inched towards the spoon.  The spoon was almost full, and I was full of apprehension.  Then I was struck with an idea.  “Look out, Ms. Cackold!” I shrieked.  “There’s a fish in the bottle!”

Ms. Cackold screamed, and leapt to her feet. She dropped the bottle to the floor, and shards of glass and fishy liquid went flying everywhere.  I sprung out of bed and ran to the door, pausing by the window to grab the key Ms. Cackold had dropped.  I slammed the door behind me, and slid the key into the lock.  It was a perfect fit, and I grinned mischievously as I locked my governess in.

I skipped down the hall, oblivious of the angry shouting coming from behind my locked door.  I still had my shawl and slippers on, shielding me from the bitter morning cold.  By the time I reached the grand staircase, I was out of breath from my skipping and running.  I hopped up on the solid oak bannister, and slid down effortlessly over the priceless wood and ivory inlays.  The plush red velvet carpet in the hallway below cushioned my landing, and I hopped up, dusted myself off, and continued my trek to the dining hall.  As I walked down the hall, some footmen gave me inquisitive looks, and a few maids openly stared at me.  It must have been strange to see me trotting about alone, in my nightgown, with my hair loose and unkempt.  I did my best to ignore their looks of disbelief, and finally arrived at the grand mahogany doors of the dining hall.  The footman by the door only looked at me for a moment before opening the heavy doors and announcing my presence.