Lindorm Princess

Chapter 3

More of those are going into your mouth, than into your basket, scoffed the Lindorm.

"That's right," I said, mumbling around the seeds of another blackberry. I sucked the juice from my fingers, making a loud slupring noise for emphasis, and picked another few ripe clusters off the branch.

Urgh. I do hope you will wash them before you use them, because your hands are filthy.

"Oh, stop being so fussy," I teased. Now that he was the size of a small snake, I felt a bit more comfortable bantering with him. Underneath the façade of seriousness, he did have a sense of humor, albeit dry.

The first basket was nearly full, after only an hour of labor. I was moving fast, and the company of the Lindorm had raised my spirits. I hadn't realized how quiet and alone I had been, for so long. I hadn't really had a friend before. Our neighbor's daughters were long grown with their own young, and being pulled out of school meant that I had missed the valuable chance to socialize with young girls my own age. 

So the chance to meet friends were- well, it seemed my only friends were our farm animals. Animals that ended up on a dinner plate at some point, or sold at market.

"Do you have a name?" I asked suddenly. I had just realized that I had been calling him Lindorm, but that wasn't really his name, was it? It was just what he was.

He was silent, and didn't answer.

Too late, I realized that I had just insulted him. Of course he wasn't going to give me his name. Fae could be commanded with their true names. To share his name with me, would mean that he was essentially trusting his life with me.

As I expected, when he answered, it was cautious, and wary.

You may call me Slange. I bit back a chuckle. Slange? Slange just meant snake. That was not a Fae name, but it sounded a bit better to me than Lindorm, which reminded me of worms.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to encroach," I said. "Slange is the perfect name for you."

Good. He answered me crisply. I had offended him. I tried a different question.

"Do you like berries?"

Do I – wait, what?

I tried again.

"I said, do you like berries?"

I...I can remember that I used to, it is not as if I can manage to navigate the berry from the thorns, as a Lindorm or snake. He sounded a bit morose at the thought.

Used to. Now that was interesting. I decided not to press more on that subject for now.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing that I made that deal with you then. Didn't we agree that I should share my bread with you?" I held a freshly picked jewel to his tiny mouth.

He hesitated, before gently swallowing it whole, licking the juice from my fingertips with a tiny, forked tongue.

It's better than I remember. Thank you, he said. He sounded genuinely grateful, and also a bit bewildered. I guess he hadn't expected me to hand-feed him, even though he had been the one to make the deal in the first place.

"Can't you use magic though? You are a Lindorm, after all." I couldn't seem to help my curiosity. I picked up my baskets, and moved to the raspberries in the distance. The forest floors shone with golden, aged pine needles that crunched as I walked, and my feet pressed into the soft, loamy soil underneath.

I can't use magic to help myself. Only others. And I don't particularly want to help others. That's why I don't let people normally touch my skins. You're the first person in well over one hundred years.