Family Matters
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel

Thumbnail art by  tegerio, color by  Major Matt Mason

Part Fifty-three



Roland:

It was midmorning when my scrying-sphere began to buzz, and when I picked it up I was greeted by a very familiar roebuck’s visage. “[In day’s youth, peace and greetings, gracious lord.]”

“Greetings, Corporal. I will take it that this is not a social call.”

Winterbough looked distressed. “Commander Hartoh-Mason came to the Master’s Lodge earlier this morning, [gracious lord], bearing a report about a mishap near Persoc Tor. Have you heard anything about that?”

I nodded. The papers were full of it. “Report, [teashor].”

The Master straightened up. “Sir. Commander Hartoh-Mason reported that the ship Musashi encountered a Gap while over Faerie and nearly crashed. She tells me that her wife, Commodore Mason, succeeded in preventing the ship from causing a disaster.”

“There were reports of a ‘metal barn’ that briefly appeared,” I said, recalling a few lines in one of the newsheets, “lifted into the sky and vanished.”

“Yes, sir. I was told that part of the ship broke off, and was recovered rather than leave it.”

I nodded again. This was in keeping with the Commodore’s repeated insistence on not having a presence here in Faerie. And it was good manners on her part to report to me, via the Master, on the situation. “Was anyone hurt, [teashor]?”

“Minor injuries, [gracious lord], according to the Commander’s report. She told me that they managed to get some good intelligences from the Gap that they struck.”

“Indeed?”

“They say that another Gap opened up – in another alternity – and they succeeded in tracking it.”

“Well, some good came of the accident, at any rate.”

“Commander Hartoh-Mason – “ The Master winced at a crash somewhere out of range of his scrying-sphere “ – the Commander wanted to have me pass on that they are willing to pay compensation for any damage.”

“Hmm. Satisfactory. I shall speak with the King on the matter. Was that all, [teashor]?”

“Yes, [gracious lord].”

The sphere went dark, and I made a mental note to broach the subject to my royal brother when we had lunch.


***


Winterbough:

“You ain't gonna be gnawin' on that bonce
Only gonna tell you once
‘Cause Mama don't allow no skull-bone chewin' in here.
Mama don't allow no acid poop in here.
Mama don't allow no acid poop in here.
If she sees a smokin' two
Your scaly butt's gonna be through
‘Cause Mama don't allow no acid poop in here.
Mama don't allow no ant-herdin' in here.
Mama don't allow no ant-herdin' in here.
Gotta leave them Rushin’ Blues 'lone
If you don't wanna cry and moan
‘Cause Mama don't allow no ant-herdin' in here!”

“No, Westie! That’s my grandsire’s skull – it is NOT a chew toy!” I finished singing and succeeded in getting Third’s skull away from the ice-wyrm – and stopped in mid-scold when I saw the look on his face.

Oh, Netherhells.

I’m being more than a bit of an ass, aren’t I?

[Note appended to manuscript: “No more than usual.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “You know what, wolfess? I’ll concede the point this time.”]

Dragons are intelligent creatures, and I have a recently-hatched infant ice-wyrm galumphing around the house calling me ‘Mama.’

And here I am treating it like an errant pet.

That’s not Elfly, and if I go further down this road it’ll become downright Unseelie.

So after consoling Westie for a little while, I pulled on a heavy coat and we went out in the snow to play. While he cavorted (not Cavorted; he’s far too young for that, which brought up the mental image of a full-grown Westie Cavorting), I started thinking about setting up a Name-Day ceremony at the Temple, and acknowledging Westie as another adopted child of my family.

It’s the Elfly and Seelie thing to do.

The next day, I trudged through the snow to the Temple, leaving Westie to play with Stormy for a while, to have a word with Brother Cellini on the matter.

“Peace an’ greetin’s, Master,” the turtle said as I came into the Temple. He bestowed the Benedictio on me and said, “What’s bringin’ ya down here?”

“Well, it’s like this, Brother,” I said. “You know about the ice-wyrm hatchling.”

“Yeah yeah, sure sure.”

“Well, I think it’s time I got with you about setting up a Name-Day ceremony.” My ears drooped. “I’ve been treating him rather like a pet, and he’s not. So I’m going to do the Elfly thing, acknowledge him, and adopt him into my family.”

The turtle gave me a look. “Treatin’ him like a pet, ya say?”

I nodded.

“An’ have ya asked fer th’ Lady ta forgive ya fer that?”

“Yes, I have.”

Cellini pulled me into a headlock and bestowed a vigorous Benedictio on me before calling out to his two acolytes, “Hey, youse two mugs! Get yer tails over here, pronto!” Lupo and Cannizorro promptly prontoed, and when they were front and center Cellini said, “Now, lissen up. Th’ Master here’s just showed proper Elfly behavior to dat little dragon what hatched out on him, an’ we’re havin’ a Namin’ Day shindig here in th’ Temple fer him.” He glanced at me and asked, “Next Worship Day, Master?”

“Sure. Westie’ll be about two months old.”

“Den it’s high time he got th’ business. Now, youse two, we’re gonna do this up right, so get ta woik cleanin’ this place up!”

“But Brother,” Lupo spoke up, “me an’ Cannizorro just finished – “

“Then do it again!” Cellini snapped, and the wolf and the fox fell over each other scrambling to get to work. He watched them go before turning to me. “Do me a service, Master?”

“What, Brother?”

He leaned in close to me. “Can ya keep da little tyke from chewin’ on my shell dis time? Took a coupla days ta buff th’ marks out da foist time.”

I assured him that I’d try to have Westie on his best behavior for the ceremony, and after exchanging another Benedictio with the turtle I left the Temple.


***


One side of the Temple is always reserved for the does, with the [Eldest] taking pride of place in the front pew. The front pew on the other side is set aside for the Master of Elfhame; i.e., me, and my family.

The family pew is starting to get a little crowded. There was me (with Westie sitting on my lap; so far he was behaving), Anastasia, Stella, Sixth with Una and Tessie taking up the front pew, with Aedith and Stormy sitting beside my buck-fawn’s companion. Missy, Tali, and Ooo-er were in the second row, and to my surprise Zonya and Dotto could be seen up in the gallery with the Gypsy Wolves and the ex-Prisoners.

Brother Cellini superintended the Holy Recreation, the flash and the bang making Westie flinch, but thank the Lady he didn’t embarrass himself. The sermon, in honor of the occasion, was about the duty parents have to raise their children to be good and Seelie Elves, which would be pleasing in the sight of Fuma.

When he finished the sermon, Cellini stepped around the altar and said, “Today we’ve got us a parent who’s brought a child in fer his Namin.’ It’s th’ will of th’ Lady Fuma, an’ if anyone sez otherwise I’ll punch their teeth down their throats. Master, come forward.”

I got to my feet and carried Westinghouse up to the altar to the sound of some pleased and enthusiastic muttering on the part of the rest of the congregation. He was snuggled against me, which made holding him fairly easy. Acolytes Lupo and Ashearth stepped forward to attend the Brother while he gave me the Benedictio, gently rubbed his knuckles against Westie’s head, and asked, “Master o’ Elfhame, it’s th’ duty o’ every parent ta raise their kid up to be Seelie an’ pleasin’ in th’ sight o’ Fuma. Will ya teach him?”

“I will,” I replied.

“An’ will ya instruct yer kid, when he’s old enough ta unnerstand, accordin’ ta th’ rules o’ th’ Mephitist Church?”

“I will.”

“An’ will ya correct him if he looks like he’s gonna stray from th’ Seelie path?”

“I will.”

Brother Cellini smiled. “Have ya a witness, here, ta help ya if sompin’ happens ta ya?”

“Um,” and I quickly glanced around at the others gathered in the Temple. A trace of eyeshine up in the rafters caught my attention. “Estvan!”

Everyone looked up. “Phwat?”

“Come down here.”

“An’ whoi, Oi’m afther askin,’ are ye callin’ me down, Master o’ Elfhame?”

“My son needs an uncle.” That statement caused some excited conversation among everyone but my family and the [Eldest].

“Arrah, but ye’ve a way about ye, ta be puttin’ me on th’ spot like that.” He pooked, appearing beside me and giving himself the Benedictio. “Tis Oi, Estvan Silverbrush, standin’ as witness, Brother.”

If Brother Cellini disapproved, he didn’t let on. “Westersloe Winterbough, th’ Fifth o’ yer Name, will ye be a good parent to this little one?”

“I will.”

“What’s his name?”

“Westinghouse, and I am pleased and honored, in sight of the Lady, to acknowledge him as my son, and welcome him into my family.” Estvan looked proudly at me.

Cellini dipped a paw in a bowl of water offered by Trixie, wiped the paw on a towel Lupo was carrying, and laid the paw on Westie’s head. “Westinghouse, son o’ Westersloe,” the turtle said clearly, “be welcomed inta th’ Winterbough Family, th’ fellowship of th’ Mephitist Church, an’ th’ constant hope ta feel th’ Lady’s Embrace.”

He then gave the newest member of my family a gentle Benedictio Interphalangeal, as the rest of the congregation applauded.




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