Grey Folk

Chapter 3

One Hour Ago...

Midge's fingers were red and rough from being submerged within the soapy water so long. Her shoulders ached and her lower back was sore, but still she continued scrubbing away at the never-ending mountain of dishes left over from Queen Titania's diplomatic lunch. Apparently her majesty was having some Eladrin over for a visit, a potentially great power in the Faewild if the queen herself thought it was someone worth knowing. All Midge knew was that meant lots of dishes, and lots of work.

Not that it was much different from any other day. She expelled a long sigh as she put a silver serving dish into the large drying rack to the right of the sink, then straightened and placed a hand on her lower back.

"Need a break?" Cricket's low voice behind her made Midge turn, looking up at her even taller grey-haired friend.

"Are you offering one?" Midge replied. It never hurt to be cautious when answering a question, even if it was coming from someone close to her.

"Of a sort. We need more nymphroot for the pie we're concocting," Cricket crossed his arms over his narrow chest and glanced over his shoulder. "Rumor has it this Eladrin fellow, Chevalier, is a complete fool for nymphroot pie."

"How can I refuse? If Chef asks, will you tell her where I went? I'll finish the dishes when I'm back. No more than an hour, if all goes well."

"She's the one who suggested I send you," Cricket reassured her. There was always a lot of work to be done by the greyfolk of the castle, but they were not treated too strictly, all things considered, as long as they fell in line.

Midge wasn't one for displaying her emotions on her sleeve, mainly because she never had that many emotions to speak of. There wasn't much to get excited about, going on her eightieth year of drudgery, and only drudgery to look forward to for the years remaining to her. Sometimes she rather wished a werewolf would come upon her in the woods and rip her apart, end all this misery. But most of the time she just wished the day was over so she could go to bed.

A small smile still made its way across her face, however, when she stepped out of the kitchen door and into the open courtyard of the castle. The Faewild truly was beautiful. Wild vines, tall grasses and incredible sweet-scented flowers filled every bit of open space, as nature was allowed complete sway here. Any who dared cut a vine in the Faewild would swiftly suffer the consequences, as nature did not suffer civilization to exist there long if the occupants did not learn to respect their surroundings.

Midge ducked down beneath a trailing arbor of tangling purple ivy to access the storage shed in the corner of the castle courtyard. The air was oppressive, a little humid and warm, making sweat gather on Midge's upper lip and forehead as she gathered up a bucket and a pair of tongs for collecting the nymphroot.

When she straightened up and turned around again, she saw someone waiting for her, blocking the other side of the arbor. It was a tall male fae with elongated elfin features, long ears thrusting up through wildly curling red locks, and emerald-green eyes that sparkled with vibrant life. Midge suppressed a sigh. Of course, every fae was incandescently beautiful and full of magic, except the greyfolk. Why did she have to be born in the wrong class? It just wasn't fair.

"My lord," she said respectfully, stopping short and lowering her head. "Are you seeking assistance?"

His lips twisted up in a smirk and his eyes lit up with laughter. He reached forward, his long, slender fingers extended in a beckoning gesture that was difficult to refuse, even for one as reluctant as Midge. "Assistance is what I'm here for. Tell me your name."

"Midge, my lord." She shifted the bucket from one hand to the other, placing the tongs inside. "Are you lost?"

"No, Midge. Stars, what an awful name. Did you choose that one yourself?"