Quiet as a Mouse

Realizing no amount of trying to deny the existence of the gigantic room, Daffyd decided he needed a better understanding of what he was facing and wanted to look around. Dangling himself over the edge of the hearth, he hung from the ledge and dropped silently to the fairly thick carpet below, landing softly and rolling to the side to come up on one knee before standing upright.

Walking slowly across the carpet, he looked up in wonder, craning his neck around to see the amazing construction and engineering of the immense room, mouth hanging opening and eyes wide. There was a sconce on the wall throwing light upward illuminating the entirety of the room.

The heavy sounds of large feet approaching impelled him to make haste and hurry under the skirting of the gigantic chesterfield. Circling the wooden leg, he leaned against it and tried to calm his breathing.

First one, then another huge bare foot flashed passed where he stood, turning, the chesterfield groaning under the weight as the owner of the feet sat down. They looked like a woman’s feet and he thought it fairly safe to assume they attached to the woman he had watched depart. Moving away from the leg, he padded silently up behind her heels. Up close her feet seemed even larger and more imposing, probably about three times as long as he was tall. He notice a silver colored ring around the biggest toe on her left foot, large enough he could pass through it without ever touching an edge.

He wasn’t sure what to do, reaching a hand up tentatively toward the back of her foot. Should he reach out and try to get her attention? After all, she was holding a dragon. He hesitated.

“What the?” he heard her voice say, watching surreptitiously as she stood up and moved to the fireplace, requiring only a few strides to cross the distance. She dropped down to a single knee.

What was she doing?

“Ella?” she said, pivoting back to look in the direction of the chesterfield. “Did you bring something into the house?” she asked, voice reproachful.

It suddenly dawned on him what she was looking at, tiny little footprints. He had unwittingly left a set when he tracked through the white ash and across the hearth when he left the dragon’s lair. Filled with a stab of fear in his belly, he moved quickly deeper in the shadows under the long piece of furniture.

There was a high pitched noise from somewhere up above, almost a squawking sound surely from the dragon.

“Ella!” scolded the huge girl. He could hear the sounds of her footfalls retreating. Was she leaving? There was the sounds of wings flapping. Creeping cautiously forward, he peeked out from under the skirt, prepared to sneak out but abruptly stopped when he saw the dragon perched on the edge of hearth, head raised and seeming to sniff the air.

The thunderous sounds of her footsteps preceded her as she returned, a great corn broom held to her right side in her hand.

The dragon made a fluting sound, and the girl dropped back to one knee, peering directly toward where he was hiding.

Stumbling backward, he heard her approaching. Racing as fast as his little feet would carrying him, he exited the rear of the chesterfield, hearing a high pitched shrieked from way up high. Risking a moment to look back, he saw her there, raising the broom as if to bring it crashing down upon him. As he turned back, he tangled up his feet, sprawling face first to the ground and rolling over. He brought his hands up as he saw the massive broom descending, closing his eyes waiting for the inevitable crash of it striking down on him, but it didn’t happen. Instead, she halted her killing stroke and set the broom to her side, dropping to her knees near him, big luminous green eyes wide with curiosity as she studied him.

“You look almost like a person!” she exclaimed, eyes sparkling as she looked down on him. The dragon circled around to her side, neck elongated and alien eyes staring intently at the fallen boy

“I am a person,” he blurted, slowly lowering both of his hands down and desperately trying not to tremble. “I’m Daffyd,” he stammered, eyes moving nervously from huge girl to dragon and back.

“Daffyd?” she asked, “Is that your name? Are you one of the wee folk?”

He shook his head vigorously, “I’m not one of the Fey, but my name is Daffyd,” he hastily explained.

“How is it you are so tiny?” she asked incredulously, placing a hand down on the dragon.

Shaking his head, Daffyd replied, “I am not tiny, it just that, well, you are just very large,” he said, voice still tinged with panic

Now it was her turn to shake her massive head, “I’m normal,” she stated emphatically, “Just look around, there is no tiny furniture.”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Do you have a name?” he asked.

Snorting slightly, “Of course I have a name, it’s Ivy,” she shared.

“Ivy,” he repeated, nodding his head and rising to his feet and doing his best to smile.

The dragon landed beside her with a loud thump, startling the boy.

“Ella brought you here?” Ivy inquired, reaching a huge hand down toward him.

“If Ella is your dragon, then yes, she brought me here, but I don’t know why,” he said, as the enormous girl carefully scooped him up in huge her right hand and elevated him in front of her to better see him.

Ivy looked at the dragon, then back to the boy, “Sometimes she does that, brings back things to play with, but she has never brought back a little tiny person before,” she explained, studying the handsome youthful lad standing in the palm of her hand.

“She killed Sir George,” he stated, looking down at the beast with a mixture of anger and fear.

Ivy shook her head slowly, “She surely wouldn’t have, unless your Sir George tried to attack her,” she defended, tone admonishing.

Daffyd frowned, thinking back on the encounter, Sir George had certainly been the aggressor, attacking the dragon without provocation.

There was a loud crash from elsewhere in the massive house followed by a booming female voice calling out, “Ivy, where are you?”

“Go to your den Ella,” Ivy urged with haste but quietly, waving her free hand quickly toward the dragon and spurring the creature to move. He watched from his lofty perch as the creature sinuously retreated into the fireplace wall and through the darkened crack to vanish in the inky blackness beyond.

“Alexa mustn’t see you,” Ivy whispered, eyes growing fearful as she looked around the room for a place to stash him.

“Who is Alexa?” he asked, seeing how alarmed Ivy was becoming and growing frightened.

“My stepsister,” she answered under her breath, “She can be very unpleasant.”

“Ivy?” repeated the voice, closer, followed the sounds of feet approaching.

“Oh no,” she fretted, hurriedly pulling forward the front of her dress and stashing him in between her cleavage before releasing the bodice to conceal him there.