Of Bread and Pointed Ears
“Bye,
Mom!” Thirteen-year-old Éadra
called as she left for the public bakery to bake the dough she'd
spent all morning preparing.
“I
wish you hadn't taken to calling her that,” her twin Learé
muttered to her. “She isn't really our mother.”
“I
know,” Éadra replied,
“but it makes her feel good. Besides, she may not be our birth
mother, but she still takes care of us as if she were. I miss Mother
just as much as you do—I dream about her almost every night. But I
know she wouldn't want us disrespecting the woman who's been raising
us since—you know.”
“Yes,”
said Learé. “But does
respecting Joan mean letting her replace Mom?”
Éadra
shook her head. “I haven't forgotten her.”
“Sometimes
you act like it,” her twin replied.
Éadra
said nothing. She just stared down at he covered bowl of bread dough
in her hands. “I wish we didn't have to use the public oven today,”
she finally commented. “I think that baker's been cheating us. It
seems like the dough never makes quite as much bread as it should.”
“I
know he
cheats us, and everyone else, too,” said Learé.
“Joshua said he snuck in the back of the shop once and saw one of
the apprentices open a trap door behind the oven and steal a little
of the dough from everyone's loaves and take it back to the baker. He
must use it to make some of the loaves he sells, or something.”
“The
sneak!” said Éadra.
“Why didn't Joshua tell anyone?”
“Who
would he tell? The baker is just about everyone's landlord here. He's
required by law to bake our bread for a small fee when we bring it,
but there's no one to make sure he does it honestly.”
“Well,
I still think something should be done about it,” said Éadra,
“if only I could figure out what.”
“Hey,
look, it's the pixie-eared freaks!” a girl's voice called out as
the twins approached the oven.
“Here
we go again,” muttered Éadra.
“Why do they feel the need to do this?”
“Just
ignore them,” said Learé.
“They only wish
they
had ears like ours.”
Éadra
raised a hand to her head, feeling to make sure her hair was still
covering the points of her ears. Not that it mattered; just about
everyone in town knew the twins were “different.” And sure
enough, soon nearly everyone around them was pointing, staring, or
making fun. It didn't help when a small breeze blew back the twins'
hair and revealed their ears for all to see. Éadra
blushed and picked up the pace, trying to escape the mocking.
Bad
idea. She tripped, and her bowl of dough went flying. A sandy-haired
girl caught the bowl, and when Éadra
reached to take it from her, she pulled away.
“I
don't think so,” said the girl. “What does a pixie need with
bread? You can just go eat flowers or something.” She skipped off
with the dough.
“Hey,
bring that back here!” shouted Learé,
running after her. Before Éadra
could stop her sister, Learé
had tackled the other girl to the ground. She stole back the dough
and dashed off, leaving Éadra
running to catch up.
When
they got home later, they told Joan about the whole incident. She
chastised Learé
a little for being rough with the other girl but told them they
handled the situation well overall. And once they had left, she cried
for her daughters and wished for a world where humans and elves got
along in peace.
