Reborn as an Elven Mother - Chapter 1

Commissioned by Azena

When Cameron, a relentless workaholic, falls into an exhausted sleep one night, he wakes up in the body of an Elven maiden in a strange fantasy realm. Suddenly thrust into a life he doesn’t remember, he must learn how to be a mother while not letting on that he's not who he appears to be.

~

Chapter 1

Being addressed with the title 'Mama' was wrong for so many reasons, and I wasn't sure where to start. Luckily, the little girl didn't seem deterred by my lack of response and flung her arms around my neck in a tight hug. I felt wetness against my skin, and the wind wafted a salt smell my way. 

"I knew you'd wake up. I just knew it." The girl sobbed. "I told them all you'd get better."

I couldn't remember the last time I'd even interacted with a kid, let alone hugged one. I wanted to pull her off and set the record straight, but that seemed cruel somehow. Whoever she was, she clearly lost her mother and was desperate for her. I awkwardly returned the hug, staring down the girl’s back at those strange hands and flexing them a few times. They couldn't be mine, and yet, I could feel them. 

"Where am I?"

My voice came out strangled, rough from disuse, which thankfully hid the shocked squeak that escaped as I heard it. Even rough, my voice sounded totally wrong. Lilting, almost musical and far softer and feminine than it should have been. Without thinking, I raised a hand to my throat and felt a distinct lack of bulge that had been there since high school. 

"The medicine lady's cottage." The girl replied. "We came here together last week, before you got too bad."

"Dellah, I keep telling you to call me Sybil. You're not a toddler anymore, 'medicine lady', really."

A plump looking woman with a head full of greying curls in a messy bun blustered into the room. There was another bunch of herbs under her arm, which she tied to a string hanging from the ceiling like the ones above my bed.

"Sorry, Sybil. But look! Mama's awake!"

"A damn rare sight. I really thought..." She trailed off as her eyes slid to the girl, and she cleared her throat. "I'm glad the fever broke. Must have been all that praying you did, Della."

I thought of the voice and the strange nowhere space I'd been a minute ago. I was so confused; where was my bedroom, where was my laptop, my work? Why could I feel odd curves attached to my body that hadn't been there before? Most importantly of all, why were these two convinced I was this little girl's mother?

"Now, off outside with you." Sybil pulled Della to her feet. "I need to examine my patient in peace and quiet."

"But-"

"No buts, out, out, out! Why don't you go find Symon. I bet he'd love somebody new to trounce at knucklebones."

Della made a face as Sybil pushed her out the cloth doors before she turned to me, hands on her hips. She had a matronly manner about her that instantly made me sit up straighter.

"Quite the daughter you have there, Ada. You worried her half to death, along with most of the village."

I had no idea how to respond, so I just smiled sheepishly. 

"Sorry."

I wasn't sure what else to say. I was too focused on the new crumbs of information I was being given. I was in some sort of village, my name was Ada, and that girl wasn’t just any child, she was apparently my child. 

“Not to mention, some of the more suspect elves were starting to whisper about you being possessed.”

“Possessed?” I spluttered. 

“I know, silly, I told them possessions don’t usually take more than a day and you’ve been laid up for more than a week now,” Sybil replied with the same casual tone one might comment on the weather with. “Regardless, I am glad you’re alright, girl. I didn’t much wish to raise another little elf, not at my age.”

Sybil didn't look a day over thirty but I thought it best not to argue. I was still reeling, taking it all in. The word ‘elf’ bounced around in my skull and I reached a hand up to brush the tips of my own ears. Pointed, just like Sybil and that girl, Dellah. 

“Could I have a mirror?” I asked.

“Fever didn't take your looks, silly girl.”

Sybil rolled her eyes and I grit my teeth together in frustration. 

“I’m not a girl.” I snapped.

“You’re barely a century old. That’s a girl in my eyes.” Sybil blustered. “Too young to have a daughter of your own.

Every time I thought I was catching my breath, this woman threw me a new curve ball. A century old; and she was the one complaining about her age? My breath was starting to come in short bursts, I could feel extra weight on my chest as it heaved up and down. This couldn't be happening. I’d finally gone mad from the stress and snapped, it was the only explanation. Yet, this all felt too real. Do hallucinations usually feel this real? A gentle hand patted my shoulder, and I jumped.

“Easy now, sorry, girl. I was just teasing.” Sybil hushed. “I know beauty is important to you young elves. Here, see, you look as pretty as you ever did.”

She pressed a small handheld mirror into my hands, and I held it up. A warm face greeted me: dark olive skin and even darker brown hair with a rich lustre that was slightly mussed from a week of sleep. There were bags under my eyes, but other than that, I looked like the picture of feminine grace, with high cheekbones, full lips and, of course, those distinctive ears. 

“This can't be happening…” I whispered. 

“Something wrong, Ada?”

I looked at Sybil’s concerned face, her brow pinched and sharp eyes studying my reaction carefully. I remembered what she said about possession. If I started explaining that I wasn't Ada, and rather a human man from god knows where, that probably wasn't going to go over well. Apparently, possessions were actually possible wherever the hell this was, and I suddenly had a vision of the Salem witch trials with me in place of Abigail Williams. 

“Sorry, I am just feeling a little confused.” it wasn’t technically a lie, well, except the ‘little’ part.

“Well, the fever is broken, so you should be right to go home. Why don't you go lie down in your own bed.”

Home. Right. I nodded and gingerly pulled back the blankets, revealing a simple white nightdress that covered most of my body. My long hair fell down to my waist, and a few knotted, half-done braids framed the side of my face. As I stood, the world turned on its axis; everything felt wrong. I had no idea how to hold myself or even how to walk. I fumbled like a newborn deer, feeling the extra weight of my chest and butt, along with the odd gait of my now wide hips. I feel like a stranger in my own body, in a lot of ways, I guess I am. 

Sybil watched me with a strange look on her face, and I gave her a thumbs-up, which only confused her more. Okay, note to self, elves don’t give thumbs-up. Sybil’s cottage was small, and when I pushed the door open the smell of herbs and must was instantly replaced with fresh, spring air. I breathed deep and almost coughed; after a lifetime in the city, it felt strange to have air that was so clean. It was like drinking nectar with every breath. 

I felt like I’d stepped into a renaissance fair. The village was quaint, with thatched roofs and only a handful of larger buildings. A sight in the shape of a potion bottle that read ‘apothecary’ hung above Sybil’s door, and down the street, I could see similar signs reading ‘blacksmith’ and ‘cobbler’. People, no elves, wandered the streets, and a few gave me an odd look in my night dress. Other than that, they went about their business. 

“How on Earth…wait, is this even Earth?” 

Across the street, a cart sloughed to the ground as its wheel came loose, and the man driving it swore. I watched, with eyes like dinner plates, as he made a few quick gestures and summoned a spectral hand that lifted the cart while he refitted the wheel. 

“Okay… definitely not Earth.” I breathed. 

As I glanced around, wondering which way it was to get to my new home, another young woman approached me. She had flowers embroidered in her bright yellow hair and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She wore white robes with some sort of symbol made of interlocking circles on the front. I’d played enough RPGs back when I was in high school to know a priestess when I saw one. 

“Ada, you’re up and about, that’s wonderful.”

“Yes, the fever just broke.” 

I tried to return her smile, silently begging whoever this was to go away until I could get my bearings. 

“I came to your house when you first took ill, do you remember?” She said sweetly. “I was beginning to think we had lost you to a demon.”

“Well, here I am! Right as rain!”

“I am unfamiliar with that term.” The woman said, eyes narrowing. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Completely, but I should probably go and find Dellah; she was so upset.”

“Of course…” The woman’s shred gaze felt like it was piercing my very soul. “Ada…since you are yourself and not a demon, could you tell me my name?”

Cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.

“Um-”

“Jenavelle. Would you stop badgering my patient?” Sybil yelled, suddenly appearing behind me in the doorway. “Ada ain't no demon; she had a bad spring fever. That’s it.”

I could have kissed Sybil in that moment, but I settled for letting out the breath I was holding and turning back to the priestess. 

“What Sybil said, I thank you for your concern, Jenavelle. Now I really need to get home.”

I stepped past her and down the street, trying to look as confident as I could, only to hear Jenavelle clear her throat.

“Ada, I believe your home is that way.” She said, pointing in the opposite direction.

“I know that!” I replied, just a little too quickly. “I was just going to…find my daughter.” 

Feeling the words ‘my daughter’ leave my lips felt so strange, but clearly, it was the right thing to say because the priestess didn't stop me. She had a cold look in her eyes that sent a shiver down my spine. If she discovered I wasn't actually Ada…well, I didn't want to think about it. This was a world where magic was real to some degree, I didn't want to experience the arcane inquisition. 

“Okay, Cameron, just breathe,” I whispered to myself. “Step one, find Dellah and have her show you where you live then…then I can find out how the hell I got here and how to get home.”

I didn't have to walk far before I heard the sound of children giggling. I turned the corner to see a small gaggle of elf children all gathered around a circle, tossing bones and cheering with delight when they rolled, almost like they were dice. Dellah was standing off to the side with a young boy her own age who looked like he was trying to encourage her to play as well. A smile broke across her face when she saw me, and without a word to the crestfallen boy, she ran straight to me. 

“Mama! Are we going home now? Are you all better?”

Her eyes seemed impossibly wide and innocent, and I swallowed nervously. Lying to her felt like a kick in the teeth. I was in business, a cutthroat one. I was used to lying or putting a positive spin on things but this, this made guilt gnaw at my gut. 

“Yes.” I choked. “I’m quite tired, why don’t you lead the way?”

Dellah slipped her tiny hand into mine and squeezed, looking up at me with such love in her eyes it made my stomach squirm more and I forced the feelings back. This girl was young, young enough not to question her ‘mother’ . I needed to use that to my advantage.

“So, Dellah, why don’t you tell me what’s been happening in the village while I was sick? How are your friends, did anybody come to visit me?”

Dellah immediately began chatting away, and I did my best to memorise as many names and places as possible. This village wasn’t big, the main thoroughfare seemed to be lined with shops, with a number of cottages and small houses in the streets surrounding them. Over the top of the low roofs, I could see the barns and farmhouses that made up the outskirts. Only one building was made of stone, a large church-like structure right at the centre of town. That same symbol made of overlapping circles was emblazoned on a stained glass window overlooking the whole town.

 Maybe a hundred or so people could live here; it was the sort of place where everybody knew one another. All except me. The church loomed closer as we walked and I passed a few more young women in those same robes. Outside the doors one was standing, speaking to a small group of villagers with a serious expression. 

“We must remain vigilant. Our sisters at the order in Middleborough lost one of their own to the demons just last week.” The priestess warned. “A fever took her mind and replaced it with that of an outsider, a monster who had to be slain in order to protect our way of life.”

Dellah’s hand squeezed mine tightly, and without thinking, I squeezed it back. 

A few people in the crowd turned and regarded me, the priestess's eyes felt like knives through my chest. For a moment I felt myself flashback to a world that made sense, where a room full of investors were staring at me, daring me to say the right thing lest our company go under. I put on my best salesman smile. 

“It’s a good thing we have you here to protect us then,” I said. “We’d stay and listen, but as you can see, I am a little underdressed.”

A few members of the crowd giggled at my nightdress and the strange tension in the air dissipated. A burly looking elf with thick arms and an apron covered in flour clamped his great hands on my shoulder as I walked past.

“Good to see you up and about, Ada!”

I took in his appearance and the hard look of the priestess and decided to take a risk.

“Thank you, Sampson.” 

For a single second, time seemed to stand still. He matched the description Dellah had given me of the local baker who’d been feeding her while I was sick. If I guessed wrong…

“Always, I’ll talk to Sybil and bring you along an extra fruit loaf tomorrow. On the house.” Sampson grinned and I nodded, doing my best not to let out a sigh of relief. 

Dellah tugged at my hand and led me down the street behind the church to a small wooden building that looked much like Sybils. There was a small garden out front, but I had no idea what vegetables were growing in it. Dellah pushed open the door and we stepped into our home. 

It was small and smelt of hay. The cottage was made up of one central room, with a table, small kitchen and several cupboards and barrels. A curtain separated off a metal tub and basin for washing, and an open doorway revealed two small beds, one child-sized. A single open crate sat between them with a piece of fabric hanging over the edge; our clothing. 

A kind person would have called it quaint. I called it a hovel, but at least it was a clean hovel. Well, as clean as one could hope. I slipped off the shoes Sybil had given me and felt the dust cling to the soles of my bare feet. I couldn't help but grimace in disgust as I lifted them to see a coating of grey staining my dark olive skin.

“Sorry, mama,” Dellah said. “I haven’t been doing my chores…”

There was a pile of wooden dishes in the sink, and the barrel of water next to the basin was almost dry. There went any ideas of cleaning my feet. Dellah wiped crumbs from one of the bowls and bent over to scoop as much water as she could, almost falling into the barrel in the process. She placed the bowl on the table and then lifted a tea towel to reveal a hunk of rough looking bread. 

“But I have dinner ready!”

Toast and beans had never sounded so luxurious, but my stomach grumbled, and it seemed unlikely that any better prospects were about to present themselves. We ate our bread in silence; the sounds of the city that I’d become accustomed to now replaced with a quiet breeze and the occasional shuffled footsteps outside. The sun set through the open windows, bathing the room in warm orange, then dusky purples as I forced down as much of the stale bread as I could. 

“Dellah, it’s getting late. Maybe you should go to bed.”

“But the sun is barely down!” She said, screwing up her nose. 

“Yes, but it’s been a big day.” I tried, emulating the way I remembered my own mother talking when I was small. “And we want things to get back to normal tomorrow, don't we?”

“Yeah.” 

“So…off to bed with you.”

“Alright, night, Mama.”

She hopped off her stool and ran over to give me one last, tight hug. 

“Will you tell me a story?” She asked, blinking those big, blue eyes up at me while still wrapped around my middle like an octopus.

“Oh, um, I’m not so great with stories.”

“Yes, you are! You’re the best!”

Shit. I racked my brain, trying to remember the latest YA book I’d approved several months back. Dellah changed into her own nightgown and settled herself in the bed before fixing me with an expectant look. 

“Alright, so, once upon a time, there was a boy who could fly.”

“Wow! How??”

“A scientist, uh I mean, a magic wizard, gave him wings, but the wizard wanted to keep the boy in a tower all to himself…”

I kept retelling as much of the story as I could remember, changing the science fiction elements for fantasy where I could and thanking my lucky stars that my job meant I could bluff my way through this. I kept waiting and silently begging the girl to fall asleep but she didn’t, she just kept staring up at me with those big eyes full of wonder until I reached the end of the story. 

“I thought bedtime stories were supposed to put kids to sleep.” I joked.

“But it was so good!” Dellah insisted with a yawn. “I had to hear the end.”

“Well, you have now, so close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“What about my goodnight kiss?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. Whatever it took to finally be alone. I pressed my lips chastely to her forehead as quickly as I could and gave her a little wave. Dellah giggled but finally closed her eyes. I sat back at the kitchen table with a huff of relief, waiting a few minutes for the girl's breathing to even out. As soon as I was sure she was asleep I got to work tearing the house apart as quietly as possible, searching for any clue, any detail about this new life and how to get out of it. 

The cupboards were full of food and clothes for the most part, with the exception of a single earthenware jar that contained a handful of gold coins. All simple dresses, smocks and aprons. Not a pair of pants to be seen, and I grimaced. I couldn't get used to the feeling of flowing fabric around my legs; I felt so exposed, even with the hem dragging along the dusty floor. The home was simple, with only a few small personal touches here and there, like the crude drawing of a horse I found scribbled beneath the dining table. One thing I couldn't find any trace of, though, was a man. Presumably, one had to live here unless Dellah’s father wasn’t in the picture? 

Finally, I spotted something hidden beneath the bed: a small wooden chest with a broken lock. Quietly as I could, I dragged the box out and placed it on the table before flipping it open. Inside was a strange collection of things. A small tuft of hair the same colour as Dellah’s, tied with a small ribbon, a crown of dried, brittle flowers and a notebook. 

I grabbed the notebook eagerly; it had a simple leather cover and thick paper. This had to be it, a diary or journal that could tell me about this life! But when I flipped it open, nothing but blank pages greeted me. I flipped through the whole thing, empty. 

“Why the hell is this in here?” I muttered. 

Oh well, it could still be useful. My search didn't turn up a pen, so I made do with a small stick from the garden burnt over one of the candles. I couldn't help but smile at the familiarity of writing a list; it was one small bit of normalcy on this insane day. I wrote down all the information I could: the names I’d learned, the news Dellah had relayed to me and everything I had observed about this village and my home. 

Then, on the back page, I wrote the questions I knew I needed answers to: Where was I? How did I get here? And most importantly, How did I get back? After a moment, I paused, makeshift pencil pressing against the page. Then I added one final question;

Who is Dellah’s father?