In a Weary World

Chapter X: The Ghost's Story

But in general, take my advice, when you meet anything that is going to be Human and isn't yet, or used to be Human once and isn't now, or ought to be Human and isn't, you keep your eyes on it and feel for your hatchet. -- C. S. Lewis, The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe

"I was born," Solvej began, "in the village of Gislevik, nearly on the border of Athyen. As I told you before, I was the oldest of seven children. My mother and both my grandmothers were witches, and my father and his father were wizards."

"So magic was your family business," Hjalmar observed.

"Not really. The first thing you must understand is that magic cannot be learnt if you don't have it, and being a witch isn't an occupation as such. Some people, usually people with some Fairy ancestry, are born with the ability to do magic. They will often marry other people with magic, and so their children will -- except in some rare cases -- also have magic.

"Anyway, magic ran in my family. When I was young I would watch my parents brew potions or cast spells; when I was about eight my mother let me help; and when I was fourteen I went to a school of magic. By "school" I mean a class of ten witches and wizards about my age, taught by the oldest, most experienced witch in that part of the country. When a pupil turned eighteen, the teacher tested them to make sure they were skilled enough to practice magic on their own, and if they passed they left the school. If they failed they could retake the test as many as four times, and if they failed all those times then they would never be allowed to practice magic.

"I passed on my second attempt--"

"Not your first?" Hjalmar said before he could stop himself.

Solvej grimaced. "No, not my first, and before you make any smart comments I'd like to see you take that test and pass on your first try.

"I passed on my second attempt, and moved to just outside the town of Ererth to set up shop. I was there for a year before I became bored."

Hjalmar winced at the thought of a bored Solvej.

"Rumours reached me of a suspicion of Elves living somewhere nearby--"

"A what of Elves?"

"Suspicion," Solvej repeated. "It's the collective noun for a group of Elves. Like a murder of crows, or a congress of salamanders."

Hjalmar had never heard of a congress of salamanders, but he dismissed that as unimportant. "Seems a strange word for a group of Elves. It sounds too menacing to mean Elves."

"That shows what you know about Elves. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. 

"I heard rumours that a suspicion of Elves lived nearby, and since I knew very little then of Elves I wanted to learn more. I went in search of them. Even now I don't know how long that search took. I met centaurs, gryphons and even a dragon; I had a rather nasty encounter with a huldrå[1]; I met more of the Fair Folk than I ever wanted to meet; but I didn't so much as glimpse an Elf until I'd given up the search and was on my way home."

"But aren't the Elves a type of the Fair Folk?" Hjalmar objected.

"Yes, with the emphasis on "a type of". Almost every non-human creature is a type of Fairy. Even werewolves and vampires were once Unseelie Fae. It's a bit more complicated with Elves. Think of frogs and toads. They're both the same sort of creature, and they look similar, but they aren't the same. It's like that with Elves and Fae.

"Now, would you mind not interrupting? It'll take us all year to get through this if you interrupt every other sentence."

Hjalmar at once pointed out the logical problem with this suggestion. "But how will I understand what you're talking about if I don't ask?"