An SF/Fantasy Reader

The Training: Beth-2

He slid off my shoulders pretty simply, to a sitting position. Then I lowered him down and pulled the pillow out from under the tarp where he wouldn't have all that dust to breathe. That went under his head. And I moved his arms to his side and his legs together. Above the bunk was a shelf with some sturdy dark wool blankets. One of these would help keep his body heat.

I felt his injured leg again before I covered it over. Again, it felt just normal. My hands came away with no blood. Of course, what I knew of nymph anatomy was nothing. I felt his head - no fever. For what good that was.

He seemed to be sleeping now. His face was relaxed. Maybe with all the jostling and bumping over, he could just rest.

Not that I could. Having some flirty male nymph in my bunkhouse didn't mean I still didn't have to get that cow milked and the eggs collected. And I'd have to fix that gate before I could let Bessie out of the corral, so that meant pulling some hay down for her.

A thousand thoughts filled my mind. Trimble would have to just rest and wait until I could do whatever I was supposed to for him. But I pushed that train of thought off onto a side track so I could get the immediate chores done.

IVWHEN I WOKE, I SMELLED the dust and sneezed. Of course that made my leg hurt. But the cushions underneath me felt good, as well as a cotton pillowcase-covered pillow. I hadn't luxuriated in a real bed for a long time. The wool blanket scratched, but the deep smell of natural fibers was another scent I hadn't experienced for too long.

All brought back memories of earlier times I'd interacted with humans. Good and bad.

The narrow room held this bunk opposite a workbench. It looked like she had been using it for potting. A large set of windows was above the bench and gave a decent amount of light through the dingy panes. Enough to see the rest of the rustic room. All the walls were covered with hanging tools and shelves that held glass bottles and plastic containers made from cutting off the tops of jugs and bottles. Screws, bolts, nuts, and seed packets filled up most of these.

The single bunk was leftover from a time where the farm needed part-time labor. And the layout said that there used to be more of these bunks, but the room had become more of a work-shed since then.

I sat up to feel my leg. It still hurt, but had healed quite a bit. I cast another healing spell on it to finish it up. That healing would take a few more days, but I'd be good to travel after that, with a staff to lean on.

The outer door opened and Beth came in at that point, a concerned look on her face.

"Hi-ya, Beth!" I spoke as cheerfully as I could.

Her worry eased at this, and she was able to smile slightly. She looked tired after all she had been through. "Hi Trimble, how's the leg?"

"Better, thanks. I put another spell on it, and it will be good to go in a few days." I replied.

Her face got quizzical at this, one eyebrow raised. Even without makeup, her face had laugh lines and a smooth quality that was appealing in simple ways to any man, let alone a male nymph.

"Here, sit down, take a load off. " I pointed to the unused portion of the bunk.

She eased into it with a sigh. "Well, the chores are done, and so I came to check on you. But thanks be that you nymphs aren't as difficult to treat as humans. We'd be months healing a broken leg otherwise." Then she paused and looked toward the other end of the bunkhouse, opposite where she came in. "I just have to ask - what's this spell stuff? And what was it that you and I did out there to that 'troll'?"

I smiled at this. "You really have no clue, do you? I count myself so lucky to have found you when I did. You have a really rare gift. Maybe one in ten million inherit what you have. It might not be the best time to start your training, but we don't have much other choice."

Her face went wide-eyed, then frowned in serious lines. "Rare gift - training - wait, why aren't there other choices?"

I tried not to look too serious to reply to her. "Others are coming, and not just more trolls."

VI FORCED MYSELF TO breath deep and relax. Just thinking of trolls again was a little much. I sat back against the wall behind that narrow bunk, and pulled one knee up to hold onto. My jeans and hands smelled of milk and cow, my boots smelled of chicken yard. But both milk and eggs were now cooling. I'd need to work them along, but for now, I could just take some time to digest all this morning's events.

Taking stock - I was sitting in the old bunkhouse, with a fairy tale creature who said he was a male wood nymph. It seemed that together, we had vanquished a troll by turning him into a cloud and having said cloud be whisked away into the atmosphere.

The nymph, who calls himself "Trimble" claims to have a broken leg, but it will heal in a few more days. Days. And I'd seen him change from a full-sized human down to a pint-sized creature with pointy ears.

It was only the milking and egg-gathering that had been usual this morning.

Now I was supposed to swallow that I had some special gift for all this. Inherited from some unknown genetic line.

"You are a piece of work." I told Trimble. "Just what gives you the right to come in here with your troll, smash my gate, put my life in danger, and now say that I'm some sort of super human with all sorts of fairy tale enemies coming to attack me?" I was pissed now. The shock must have worn off.

Trimble used his arms to scoot up to the head of his bunk, pushing the pillow behind him. "Beth, wait. You're right to be upset. But consider that you may just be in denial of your own gifts."

"Denial, hell!" I clenched my hands into fists. And then stopped. He did have a point. "OK, you're going to have to help me prove it to myself. Powers, huh? Anything I can do right here and now, just from where we sit? Proof - that's what I need." I was trying to calm my self, breathing more slowly.

"You're right again. I'm sorry to come to you under these circumstances. And I was surprised at your abilities as you were. It's not like we are given a map to find people like you." He smiled slightly. "Even though I couldn't have asked the gods to put them into a prettier package."

Oh, great, now this pointy-eared creature was flattering me. Next he'll be making a pass at me. "Look, bud. I don't care where you came from or why, and I'm not your next conquest, in your pint size or human size. Let's stick to the point. Proof. Show me." I pointed my finger at him as I frowned.

Trimble pushed the finger over to the side with one hand. "Careful, that thing is more loaded than you understand right now. Especially when you are pissed off. Again, you deserve to be upset."

He looked around the small bunk room and noticed my potting efforts. "What's in the pots?"

"Just some marigolds. Thought they'd sell well in pots at my little roadside stand."

"OK, Beth. Point that finger at one of the pots. Take a good look at the one you're looking at. Remember how they are supposed to look like when they are fully grown. Close your eyes."

I did.

"Now shift that picture into real life, get the idea of a potted plant fully grown in front of you, right inside that pot. And then turn your belief into action, like it's always been real. Here, I'm going to touch your arm and help you get that feeling."

I felt a light touch on my arm and the feeling of real marigolds flowering, with the smell and other sensations beyond just our five senses. And something shifted.

I opened my eyes. Right where I was pointing, a full-grown marigold with orange-red blossoms was blooming in that pot. And some sort of sparkly stuff dissipating around the edges of it.

My mouth was open. Gob-smacked. "You're kidding."

"No, Beth. That was you. Go ahead, get up and touch it."

I did. The plant was completely real, and hadn't been there last night when I planted the seeds. I touched the soil. It was damp and spongy. "How long does this last? This isn't plastic or something fake. It's real."

Trimble put his arms back behind his head again. "As real as you are pretty, Beth."

I turned from the plant back to him. "You are a piece of work, bud. I don't know how you are pulling this off, but I know your type. And I can just as easily call the paramedics on you and have you removed for observation in one of their hospital wards."

Trimble just smiled at me. "You might not actually know my type. Sure, I like to flirt, but I assure you that I'm keeping it light so you can take the next step in your training. Because whether you are ready or not for what's coming, everything you know has changed. 'Forewarned is forearmed', but untrained can result in a painful death for both of us." He wasn't smiling now.

I considered what he said, and what I'd done with his help so far. A troll I wasn't able to see before, completely vanished. A potted plant instantly grown. And I was talking to yardstick-tall creature with pointy ears who wanted me to master this stuff. Before I got both of us killed from my own naiveté.

The picture of that smashed gate came to mind, and the huge depression in the ground that made me get up and run after an "earthquake" had dropped my feet out from under me.

It wasn't a hard choice.

"OK, I'm in. How do we start?"

VII HAD HER GO FIND AND bring back some writing material and something to write with. And colors if she had any. Beth came back with a spiral notebook, a stick pen, and some colored high-liters.

The bunk house was going to have to be her classroom for now.

She sat back down on the bunk and tried to hand those to me. I fended them away with an upheld hand.

"No, you are going to do all this writing. You've always been good at math, right?"

Beth nodded. "Sure, the only reason I didn't go and get some job in a strange city was this farm. I knew it could pay its own way, as I could see the profit figures in my mind. But the losses of working in some grimy city with strangers didn't balance out. And explaining my reasons to people just left them with a blank look, or they tried to make a joke out of what I'd said. So I had to shorten it down to something they'd get - 'I'd rather be farming.' And they'd shut up and shake their heads. But they'd buy my milk and eggs and the bread I baked.."

I smiled at her. She was very cute, inside and out. I was the lucky one to have found her first. "And we are working right now to make sure you can keep farming and even make your farm even more profitable. Keep that thought in mind."