Donkeyskin - ON HOLD

Of Loneliness

*Of Loneliness*
With the snows came loneliness, for, in these northern mountains, winter came early, and hard, making the roads impassible to those without sleigh runners to switch out for their wagon wheels. And yet, Elodie's clientele never thinned.

It seemed, in all seasons, animals would be hurt. And, with the onset of winter, Elodie learned quickly that she had an affinity for making up poultices that eased coughing and chills. These became, with the sudden, bitter cold, a staple of her income.

And yet, perhaps because fewer people suffered from long-terms colds, the villagers were bored. Elodie, too, was bored, bored of being shut up inside, bored of having nothing to do but brew up more poultices.

Finally, she could bear it no longer.

Standing at the window, staring out at the falling snow, she remembered a day, so many years ago, standing at the center of a courtyard, opening herself up to the winter.

Smiling slightly, she hummed the first few bars of a tune. Her feet moved of their own accord, stepping left, crossing, flicking, stepping right. She leapt across the space, and collided with the table. Swearing under her breath, she pushed it aside, against the far wall of the cottage.

The tune crept in again, taking control as her body moved through the space, free of all the fear, all the hate, all the darkness of the last few months, gone, carried off on the wings of a half-remembered tune.

She stiffened as a cold wind fluttered through the cottage, and turned. The door hung open, and, lit by a rare ray of sunlight, Ninon leaned against the frame, watching, eyes wide.

"That was beautiful," she breathed when Elodie stepped back, colliding with the table, yet again. "You must dance at the Midwinter festival!"

"Midwinter festival?" Elodie asked, her voice shaking slightly. "Is that soon?"

"In a week, Donkeyskin," Ninon said, laughing slightly. "Have you completely lost track of time?"

Elodie looked down, scuffing her feet against the floor. "I... yes. How do you celebrate Midwinter here?"

"Well," Ninon stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "We have a great festival in the village square. People perform, singing and dancing, and there's food and drink, and then, at midnight, we pray for the return of the sun, and stay awake through the night, in reflection and prayer, until sunrise."

"Oh," Elodie whispered, wringing her hands. "And you'd like me to perform?" Her heart was trying to leap out of her chest. Perform. The last time she'd performed... no. She wouldn't think of that. "I suppose," she said doubtfully. "I suppose I could..."

"Oh, thank you!" Ninon cried, clasping her hands together. "You'll be incredible! Everyone will love you!"

Elodie ducked her head. How could she tell Ninon that she was afraid to perform, even to the villagers who she'd come to know over the past few months? She couldn't. And that was that.

"I'll need musicians," she pointed out. "I have sheet music, if anyone here can read it." She'd only found the sheet music the night before, crumpled under the rest of the things still in her saddlebag.

"I can," Ninon said, to Elodie's surprise. "I play the harpsichord, and we have one in the pub that we can use."

"Wonderful," Elodie said, slightly regretfully. Deep down, she'd hoped no one in the village would have been able to read sheet music, and she'd have been able to refuse to perform.

Ninon smiled, her eyes lighting up. "Then come into town, and we can practice."

They were at the pub until late, going over the music, Elodie helping Ninon with the trickier bits as the older girl learned each piece. Occasionally, Elodie would practice a certain step at Ninon's urging, and Ninon would clap and compliment her.